Posts by Laura Kerr 259 posts • joined 21 Apr 2015
That astounding suggestion that the President of the United States is just having a petulant toddler tantrum...looks to be right on the money. Props.
What's the betting he only wants control of TikTok so that his Blueshirts can track down the perps if there's a repeat of the Tulsa prank?
"Now, if I can just persuade them to reduce the number of Teams meetings that get scheduled..."
Aye. That's the big bugbear. When lockdown came, we went from office-based to full remote working literally overnight. The number of 'stand-ups', 'catch-ups', 'workshops' and whatnots transmogrified from a minor irritation to a major problem within a couple of weeks. When the manglement did a survey about how well we were all adapting, many of us pointed out that we could do some work or talk about doing some work, but not both at the same time. Meeting discipline was very poor, too. I think it was because a lot of folk weren't used to remote working. It didn't bother me, as I've done it on and off for the best part of twenty years.
To give the manglement full credit, they clamped down on it, and meetings are now back down to sensible levels. One slightly odd side-effect has been that we've got to know people better than when we were all traipsing into London each day and sitting at adjacent desks. All in all, I much prefer it.
One of my student housemates had a hamster that he liked to have running around when working. "Had" turned out to be the operative word. One evening, we were all in our rooms working when the power went off.
A glance out of the window showed light still on in neighbouring houses, so yours truly checked the consumer unit. Yep, main breaker off. Maybe it was just a glitch. Shut off the power, reset breaker, power back on.
Clunk. Hello darkness my old friend.
Turned off all individual breakers, reset the main breaker, turned the juice back on and reset each circuit breaker in turn. All good until I reached the upstairs ring main. Clunk, power off again.
You guessed it. The hamster had decided to have a wee nibble on the mains cable on my housemate's PC. We found it behind his desk well and truly kaput with its teeth still embedded in the cable.
Classic tale of hero to zero. Back in the early nineties, there were two UK ISPs - Demon and the also-rans.
I used to run a big Fidonet mail hub, which included gateways between five different FTNs and also had an Internet gateway. KA9Q with POP3 support found on a now long-defunct BBS calling Demon in the wee hours for gated newsgroups and lovely old plain-text email. It worked well, but as the FTNs shut up shop, Fidonet dwindled, and Usenet filled up with crap after Eternal September, I wound it down before finally shutting up shop in 2003.
Oddly enough, I can still remember the last two newsgroups it was carrying - alt.cow.tipping and alt.swedish.chef.bork.bork.bork.
Things seemed to be freer and more fun back then, but yes, I am getting old and creaky.
I think it's a bit of both. Snake oil sales are definitely on the up, with product lifetimes measured in months rather than years. Crapware's far more abundant than it used to be, too. It came as a pleasant surprise to find that the code I'm currently maintaining was written by people who knew what they were doing. The last lot had more spaghetti than an Italian restaurant and ran about as fast as a sloth on Valium.
I think the rot set in around the time of the dot-com boom, when any dim bulb who could get some flaky HTML code to more-or-less work with an Access database could get away with swanning around spouting buzzwords and calling themselves an enterprise architect. Then, when dot-com became dot-bomb, those bulbs who were most proficient in bullshit were able to worm their ways into more senior positions, and rather than be threatened by talented people in junior positions, filled vacancies with people less able than they were. Classic Peter Principle.
I certainly wouldn't encourage my kids to go into IT. Roll on retirement.
"something as simple/fundamental as Notepad shouldn't be out of reach as a result."
'Zackly. I use Notepad for a lot of things, from codding up quick and dirty SQL scripts from CSV files - the find and replace functionality seems to have got better over the years - to transforming online chord charts from gaudy ad-festooned crap into something that's actually usable in a studio.
Indeed. It's not difficult to make a gun in a home workshop. I'd guess the main challenge would be finding the right grade of steel for making the chamber, barrel and firing pin. Back in the 1980s, my dad made a working model of an anti-aircraft gun that used a cut-down rifle barrel and which could (and did) fire .22 rounds. The plans were published in the Model Engineer around 1942.
Weld can be bored through or ground off. I can't help thinking that the safest way to deactivate a firearm would be to so weaken the chamber that it would explode if the gun was fired.
"Why does a 2019 Vauxhall Astra weigh ~1.8 tonnes? The 1990's version weighed 900kg. And that's only an Astra - not some monster peasant crusher 4x4."
It weighs HOW MUCH? Sheesh, that's about the same as my Land Rover Defender, which is a monster peasant crusher 4x4. Not even my old V6 Vectra was as heavy as that. Are they casting the engine blocks from depleted uranium, or just piling on the bells and whistles?
BOS COBOL! There's a blast from the past, all right. My first job as a developer involved using it for data migration.
I've often thought that if Windows hadn't come along when it did, it might have faced some stiff competition from BOS Software. Being able to use a humble desktop PC as a mini with terminals attached was quite a thing back in the day.
"And then there's the "I forgot I was crossing the road, because phone" cretins."
Plus the "I'm going to cross on red because female driver" characters. I've had several of these: I'm sitting at the lights with my indicator on waiting to turn left. Lights change, I start the turn and some numpty decides to step out in front of me. Some of them have even looked right at me before doing it. The last one got the full benefit of the Defender's light box and horn. He looked like a tourist; I hope his phrase book included 'you fucking idiot!'
I'm going to ask Santa for a set of bull bars this year.
"If the user wasn't aware that they needed a PC in order to connect it's a safe bet they wouldn't have been able to use the PC itself."
I suspect it might have been quite a common problem. In the run-up to the launch of Windows 95, I distinctly remember radio DJs repeatedly telling their listeners that yes, you did actually need a PC to use it.
Mind you, this was on Radio 1...
"exactly what is the sovereign power in the UK going to decide to do?"
The logical answer is also the most psychopathic. But I wouldn't put it past Borat "Spaffer" Johnson.
1. Prorogue as planned and then bring Darth Mayder's withdrawal agreement back on 31st October with a simple message: 'this is the only deal available. Vote for it or we leave tonight with no deal.'
2. Irrespective of whether it gets through or not, engineer a reunification referendum in Northern Ireland and use every dirty trick in the book to ensure a Yes result. Spaffer could help things along by insulting the Irish at every opportunity. He's got plenty of form for that.
3. Ireland reunites. Bye-bye backstop / hard border.
And bye-bye Scotland. No way would Holyrood tolerate a referendum in Northern Ireland without our having one here. But both places are a long way outside the M25 and Spaffer might be glad to not have Ian Blackford tearing him a new one every week.
I could see him trying it, but see icon for what would happen in Ireland if he did.
Scene: Yours truly doing some late-night maintenance on our Sun server back in the early nineties. Lights on in computer room, off everywhere else. Each PC was on, as I needed to wander round and test connectivity and printing. I'd turned them all on before getting on with the maintenance - IIRC, it was a SunSolve patch. To relieve the boredom, I'd set the eyeball screen saver going on each PC.
So there I was, alone in a darkened open-plan office with dozens of PCs each showing a moving eye.
Then came a rattle at the door. A particularly obnoxious road warrior had come in late. His hysterical scream was music to my ears.
"Sovereign Street was actually pretty good for the BT estate actually. If you had a problem on the flexi desks there I think you just had problems."
Yup, agreed 100%. If you were matey with the cafe staff and Frank on the front desk, it was a good place to work. I used to have a thing for the breakfast butties - if the staff knew you and liked you, you got freshly-cooked bacon and sausages rather than the old shoe leather given to those less-favoured.
But elsewhere, it was a different story. FM and cleaning was a case in point. After a few years in Sausage Street, I was shunted off dahn sarf to the smoke. Not long after I arrived in 120 Holborn, I noticed my rather expensive 1GB memory stick (this was a wee while ago!) was missing. Naturally, I assumed it had fallen out of my bag or I'd left it on the train, or something.
Well, about two years later, there was some sort of financial hoo-haa and travel was curtailed. I went back to my desk in Sovereign Street, and found nothing had changed, apart from some bar steward having nicked my chair and a thick layer of dust on every surface bar the desk. And lo and behold - my long-lost memory stick was on the floor under my desk. So much for carpet cleaning.
Causing them to start rolling their own in 3... 2... 1...
It might take Huawei a fair few attempts to clone what they're currently buying from Jesusland, but let's not kid ourselves for a moment that they wouldn't try. And with their kit effectively banned from The Land Of The (allegedly) Free, whatcha gonna do, Donny? Nuke 'em?
"The hipster clowns would just class you as "Dinosaur" or "Grandad"."
Mr King sir, you are most improper! Have you never heard of the Old Fartettes' renowned pastime of 'setting hipsters up for a fall by playing on their ignorance'? Really, young man, you should apply yourself. There is endless fun to be had.
If it was cheaper to tool up for building them again, and possible to quickly iron out the problems that would crop up due to the loss of knowledge since 1972, that isn't such a daft idea. The Saturn 5 could put 30 tonnes into lunar orbit - that's quite a big chunk of space station per trip. If modules could be docked without needing meatware to bolt things together, it might be possible to build a complete station relatively quickly.
But if you needed to send meatware along, the payload reduces to about 15 tonnes.
"Too much effort was expended on global issues, not enough on European threats. "
Well, with an empire spanning the globe, Britain had to focus on international issues. And though you're right about the financial drain following the First World War, there are a few tricks you've missed:
1. At the Versailles conference in 1919, Woodrow Wilson explicitly threatened a transatlantic arms race, which eventually led to the Washington Naval Treaty. That imposed a level of parity between the naval powers, and was weighted in America's favour, and against Britain. Britain had a huge empire to protect; America did not. It was probably the first time the US successfully flexed its muscles on the international stage.
2. During the First World War, Britain and Japan were allies. That alliance was terminated under American pressure, weakening Britain's position in the Far East and necessitating greater defence expenditure there. There's proof of the rot setting in here - the guns of Singapore could have pulverised an attacking naval force, so the Japanese simply advanced down the Malay peninsula instead.
3. By 'German ambition' I'm assuming you're referring to the rise of Hitler. The Nazis weren't a serious threat until after the Wall Street crash of 1929. Fear of a return to the hyper-inflation of the 1920s stoked by a nationalistic demagogue helped to persuade more people to vote for the Nazis in the elections up to 1933. And after Hitler became Chancellor, it didn't help that the US had retreated into isolationism.
You could argue that Clemenceau and Lloyd George should have told Wilson to sod off back to the ranch, but that's looking back with a hundred years of hindsight. The war-weariness of Britain and France helped to accelerate their decline, while the US, who had not suffered anything like as much, slowly but surely pushed them aside.
"this sounds like it would hurt the US more than anybody else"
'Zackly. And to put the old tin lid on it, it might be quite some time before Lord Dampnut's cabal realised the impact that would have. The days of American hegemony are slipping away, and just like the way empires throughout history have disintegrated, the people in charge will be the last to know; and they'll find it out the hard way.
It's probably far too late for America to recover its dominance, anyway. Lord Dampnut's just presiding (for very small values of 'presiding') over a great power in its death throes. Some time in the next few decades, future historians will point to a date between December 1972 and November 1989 as the end of the American empire.
It was the same on this side of the pond. It's a popular belief that the British Empire ended on 15th August 1947 with Indian independence, but the first nail was hammered into the imperial coffin on 21st January 1906, with the election of the last Liberal government. By the time India gained independence forty years later, the British Empire was rotten to the core.
Britain had its day of glory. So did the United States - and to an extent it still does - but the sun's sinking towards the horizon. I might not live to see it finally set, but my kids probably will.
Including the one for the BSA A65, complete with its deathtrap brake maintenance instructions.
The manual was spot on for the engine, but the cycle parts were a different matter. The Haynes manual blithely stated that the brake shoes were interchangeable. They weren't, as I found out after nearly going under a bus when the brakes suddenly faded. I couldn't work out WTF was wrong with them.
Then I found an original A65 handbook at a swapmeet. There was a whole section devoted to maintaining the brakes, including diagrams that showed the brake shoes had offset liners. Once I'd found a set of original shoes, they worked just fine.
Good manuals generally, though. Saved me a fortune back in the day.
RIP John.
"We need to move away from the paternalistic, clinician-led culture, to using a targeted mix of partnership approaches and encouraging personal responsibility for health where appropriate."
What exactly is wrong with a 'clinician-led culture' in healthcare? Call me old-fashioned, but when I need healthcare, I think I'll take the advice of a doctor over a beancounter any day of the week.
@ Doctor Syntax
Yup. And for bonus points, a lot of those requirements themselves have a high degree of mutual incompatibility. That means a Decision Has To Be Made so les grandes fromages hastily reconvene. This time, without the minion present, the atmosphere is a little more confrontational:
GF1: I want these changes to go in asap.
GF2: These ones have a higher degree of business need.
GF3: This third lot also needs to go in. And they aren't compatible with the first lot.
GF1: I want these in immediately. I've promised the Minister.
GF2: Hey, hang on. These ones are important, too.
GF3. I want doesn't get.
GF1: Do you know who I am?
GF2: I want these changes implemented immediately. If that doesn't happen, I'll scream and scream and scream until I'm sick.
GF3: Yeah, well my dad's bigger than your dad.
..etc. Eventually the requirements backed by the loudest shouter are somehow squeezed on top of the live system. No regression tests can be done, as testing was one of the first corners to be cut, so a few happy path scenarios are run and the most glaring faults hastily corrected. The Go / No Go meeting spends most of its allotted time whittling down the remaining list of bugs until the defect mask's met.
It goes live, falls over and is plastered with hot fixes until it only needs rebooting once a day.
Then rinse, squabble and repeat until end of contract.
Gubbmint IT projects have their own playbook, and it's almost the direct opposite of how sane development works. In the real world, you work out what the website has to do, make the best estimates of throughput you can, add in some contingency and ensure the architecture is scalable, design the interfaces for the payment, warehousing and transport systems, implement a decent security layer and separation of concerns and so on. Then, with a fairly comprehensive set of requirements, off you go.
Now in gubbmint, first of all, a minister bumps their gums in public about how the new shiny will go live on date X. Just to emphasise the importance, they do so in the House of Commons, which means it's recorded in Hansard. Then they pass it on to their minions, who giggle 'bananaaaa' and set up a Senior Manglement Team, a Steering Committee, a Stakeholder Forum, a Supplier Management Review Group and a Procurement Executive. This all takes time to put together - must get this right, old boy, as it's a Ministerial commitment, don't y'know - so some time is taken up with assigning people, synchronising diaries and debating terms of reference for each group. Then it goes up to the Minister for approval. Once that's been obtained The Plan is assembled using the Great Hammer of Microsoft Project.
Next step is to Gather All Ye Requirements. As all stakeholders must be consulted, a few months are burnedspent on workshops that rapidly turn into either meandering debates or turf wars. Technology allows these to be done via con-calls so that half the attendees dial in, go on mute and play on Facebook, while half the rest are mumblers who can't express themselves clearly.
With the workshops concluded, the next step is to assemble a set of requirements that make the Chequers Brexit plan look like a model of clarity. But hey, there are the requirements, so they're cut 'n' pasted into a tender document. In order a provide full transparency, a different font is used, and redacted text is included.
Off they go to tender and a couple of months later, a shortlist of bidders is invited to present their solutions. While all les grandes fromages are being seduced by the glittering PowerPoint, the minion assigned to monitor The Plan opens it one morning and cries "bananaaa!" in horror as the dates all turn red. Off they go to raise the alarm. Les grandes fromages yell at the minion for speaking truth to power and then convey an emergency meeting to review the situation. As it's so urgent, people are flown in business-class from all over the country. A locked-doors session then ensues.
GF1: How did we get to this point?
GF2: It's just not acceptable.
Minion: We fixed the end date and we've used up a lot of time in requirements gathering.
GF3: Why didn't you tell us before now? For God's sake.
Minion: I did. You all get highlight reports each week.
GF1: Oh, is that what they were. Well, really. You should have escalated it.
GF2: Absolutely. It's just not acceptable.
Minion: I did. You asked me to refer it to the Steering Committee.
GF3: They haven't met for some time. Pressures of other work, it seems.
Minion: Nobody told me that.
GF1: Well, what are we going to do? Have you got any bright ideas?
GF2. You'd better come up with something. It's just not acceptable.
Minion: We might be able to deliver a Minimum Viable Product if we cut a few corners.
GF3: What on earth is a Minimum Viable Product?
Minion: It's usually shortened to MVP.
GF1: Oh, MVP. Well, why didn't you say so? Best get on with it then.
GF2: Agreed. The current situation is just not acceptable.
Minion: Bananaaa!
GF3: OK, off you go then.
The meeting breaks up and eventually an MVP is delivered six months late by a DevOps team using Agile methodology. However, as all the budget's been used up, the MVP becomes the end product.
That's how you piss 350 million up the wall. Those stakeholder workshops need attendees and options papers don't write themselves. But hey, why should the GFs care? They're sitting pretty under the shelter of the magic money tree.
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