What Apple is doing is good for consumers. We don’t need creepy ad groups tracking everything we do. If you do want that, there are Web browsers that aren’t so intelligent that will allow that to happen. You can also disable the Intelligent Tracking Prevention feature if you wish. I’ll stick with Safari.
Me too.
Why have human beings' brains evolved to discard perfectly valid information when it does not fit their preferred view? This seems like bad engineering, so why hasn’t this glitch been corrected?
Cognitive scientists have proposed an intriguing answer: our brain assesses new information in light of the knowledge it has already stored, because in most cases that is, in fact, the optimal approach. More likely than not, when you encounter a piece of data that contradicts what you believe with confidence, that piece of data is in fact wrong. For example, if I told you I had observed a pink elephant flying in the sky you would assume I was either lying or delusional, as you should. It is a reasonable strategy, but it also means that confidently-held opinions are difficult to change.
It’s incredibly difficult to change your mind about a topic once you’ve already bought into a preferred answer. Even more so when part of your cultural identity hinges on that belief. In the follow up article, Tali Sharot recommends finding common ground that works in the favor of both parties. Seems reasonable to me.
His video also discusses myths of cinematic portrayals of archery. He posits some interesting theories in this highly fun-to-watch video.
Incredible. I could watch this all day.
At the beginning of Spring, I signed up for two races, the half-marathon Dam to Dam in the summer, and the full Des Moines Marathon in October. This was my second half, but I’d never come close to a full marathon, so signing up for it was aspirational motivation. I was training with a group running long on Saturday mornings, so as the time for the half approached and I started thinking about the full, I was feeling more and more confident that I would actually be able to run it. Then I ran the half, and things went wrong.
It was hot. Not ridiculously so, but it started out in the 70s and went up from there. I probably would have been fine, but I wore my long Under Armor pants under my shorts, mistake number one. I started out at a good pace, but too good, running at around 8:30 or so, which for me is pretty fast, even when I’m at peak training. Mistake number two. The first few miles were fine, but around mile four or so the sun beating down started to take its toll. I stopped at every water station to take a drink. Around mile six I started taking an extra cup to pour on my head. Mistake number three.
Mile seven I hit The Wall. I hit it far too early, I was only halfway done. The water I had been dunking on my head soaked my shirt, which started chafing and I started to bleed. I was absolutely ready to quit. I saw quite a few other folks on the side of the road who’d given up or pushed themselves too hard and collapsed, needing medical attention. I’d stop and walk, then jog, then walk, then jog, pushing and pushing to get through the race. It was a struggle. It was hard. I was miserable.
Some days I can get out and knock down ten miles and feel great during and after the run. Sure, I’ll feel exhausted, my legs will feel tired, I’ll be breathing heavy, but inside I’ll still have energy, I’ll still have that spark of joy that makes running worthwhile. At the Dam to Dam, I lost that spark. I dragged myself across the finish line, got my finishers medal and went to find my friends I drove up with. While they agreed that the run had been one of the worst, they had finished far in front of me. It felt like my months of training had all gone out the window. I thought about the full marathon in the Fall, but the seed of hope that I’d fostered during the training leading up to the half was gone.
The week after the half I ran a local 10K, finishing first in my age group (being the only one in my age group), and then started training on my own for the marathon. I was on mile six of a ten-mile run when I gave up. My run out was great, my run back turned into the same kind of slog I experienced in the half, and what was left of my resolve to keep running dissolved. I went home and told my wife I was done. She thought it was probably the best thing for my knees.
My wife and I joined an early morning workout class, and I realized that all my running had done little for my overall health. The women in this class were out-punching, out-kicking, and out-squat-jumping me through the entire class. I’d built up endurance, but my overall strength and physical ability had floundered. This class kicked my ass.
At first, it actually felt great not to have a long weekend run to be anxious about during the week. I slept in on Saturday, had too big of a breakfast, and generally loafed around the house. I was getting into the workout class two to three times per week, so why not? Over the weeks that followed I slowly started noticing something in myself. I was more agitated, I became frustrated more easily. Something was wrong. Missing.
While the workout class pushed me physically in ways that I was not accustomed to, the loud pounding music and group environment didn’t allow me the quiet, personal time that was the primary reason I ran in the first place. What was missing was the meditative experience running provides, the feeling of doing something by yourself, for yourself, where you can literally run away from everything for an hour.
I quit running because I forgot why I ran in the first place. I’d had a bad run and thrown in the towel, and this created two problems for me. For one, I was missing out on the benefits to my mental health. Running helps me put everything in life in perspective, it gives me goals to work towards, it clears my mind. Secondly, I gave up on something I said I was going to do, which I felt violated my personal integrity. I noticed that whenever I thought about the marathon I felt, bad. A tinge of guilt. The same feeling I get when I think about my failed software company, Farmdog. I’d given up on something that I am. I’m a runner.
I can’t have that.
I decided to start running again after reading an article in Runners World about pushing through the hard things in life. The author said, paraphrasing, that we run because it’s hard. When we overcome the hard runs it prepares us to overcome whatever other difficulties life throws at us.
This morning I strapped on my phone, put on a podcast, and had the Nike app track a 20-minute run. I’m easing my way back into the habit, but with fresh eyes and a new habit to mix into my runs. I’m keeping up pretty good with the rest of the crew at our morning kickboxing workout now. Although there are some workouts where I’m ready to quit after 15 minutes, by the time we hit the 45-minute mark I’m feeling pretty good. I’m positive that the workouts will help with an overall total-body approach to health, but I’m going back to the road for my mind. I’m too late to start training for the full marathon this year, but I’m not giving up. I’m just saying, “not yet”. I’m still a runner.
By undercutting the gravitas white supremacists are trying to accrue, humorous counterprotests may blunt the events’ usefulness for recruitment. Brawling with bandanna-clad antifas may seem romantic to some disaffected young men, but being mocked by clowns? Probably not so much.
Which brings us to Charlottesville, and the far right rallies that will surely follow. To those wondering how to respond, Dr. Stephan says that “nonviolent movements succeed because they invite mass participation.” Humor can do that; violence less so.
The broader issue, in her view, is this: Why do oppressive regimes and movements invest so much in fomenting violence? (Think of our president and his talent for dividing the country and generating chaos.) Because violence and discord help their cause. So why would you, she asks, “do what the oppressor wants you to do?”
This is a good idea. I support the mocking of morons.
It will require a struggle to make America reality-based again. Fight the good fight in your private life. You needn’t get into an argument with the stranger at Chipotle who claims that George Soros and Uber are plotting to make his muscle car illegal—but do not give acquaintances and friends and family members free passes. If you have children or grandchildren, teach them to distinguish between true and untrue as fiercely as you do between right and wrong and between wise and foolish. We need to adopt new protocols for information-media hygiene. Would you feed your kids a half-eaten casserole a stranger handed you on the bus, or give them medicine you got from some lady at the gym? And fight the good fight in the public sphere. One main task, of course, is to contain the worst tendencies of Trumpism, and cut off its political-economic fuel supply, so that fantasy and lies don’t turn it into something much worse than just nasty, oafish, reality-show pseudo-conservatism. Progress is not inevitable, but it’s not impossible, either.
A fascinating historical perspective of how we got to where we are today by Kurt Andersen writing for The Atlantic. Andersen focuses on how the counterculture movements of the ’60s morphed into a widespread belief in conspiracy theories adopted and expounded on by the right. Long, but well worth the time.
You don’t have to pretend to be a family to be courteous Or kind. Or protective. All those values can be expressed even better in principles, policies, and, most importantly, actions
I’ve worked with companies that do this, and it always felt… weird. I didn’t want to have a family, I just wanted to do great work for an organization with a mutually beneficial arrangement That’s not to say that you can’t form close bonds with those you work with, or have a deep appreciation for the company you work for, but it can never, and should never, take the place of your actual family.
This is a bit silly, I’ll be the first to admit. The contraption I’ve built to host this site is clearly unnecessary, especially when I could host the site on Github for free, with very little effort, but I was curious, so down the rabbit hole I went.
I thought it would be interesting to host my site on S3. The site is entirely static, no database back end or dynamic programming required to generate the site, it’s just HTML, CSS, and Javascript. I also wanted to understand the AWS CodeBuild service, and how I might be able to use it for other projects.
There are four components of this system: Github, which hosts the code
for the state. The domain name is registered and managed through
Route53, where I’ve configured an “A”
record as an alias to point at the S3 bucket which hosts the site.
Finally, CodeBuild is the glue which pulls the code from Github, runs
jekyll build, and pushes the site to S3.
CodeBuild works by starting a Docker container and pulling the
repository down. It then looks for a file named buildspec.yml which
contains the instructions to build the project. This file contains
arbitrary Linux commands, whatever you need to build your code. Mine
looks something like this:
version: 0.2env: variables:SITEBUILD: "yes"phases: install:commands:apt-get update -y pre_build:commands:gem install bundler bundle install build:commands:echo Build started on date bundle exec jekyll build aws s3 sync _site/ s3://jonathanbuys.com post_build:commands:echo Build completed on dateThe interesting thing about this system is that I could replace Jekyll
with Hugo, Hakyll,
or any other static site generator, even my own scripts, and the system
would stay the same. I’d just need to update buildspec.yml with the
new commands to install the right tools and build the site. Hosting
costs so far have been pennies, my cost this month might reach $1.27,
and for the past couple months the cost has been below one dollar.
I’ve been considering making this system more user friendly and monetizing it somehow. There’s a business model to be had in here somewhere, if I care to pursue it. Even though blogging in general appears to be in somewhat of a decline, publishing platforms will always be needed.
I got an email from my mom the other day asking me for a recommendation on a new Mac. The first question I asked was what her budget was like. She said she’d like to keep it under a grand, which right away narrowed the field quite a bit. Next I asked what she would be using the machine for, to which she replied with the standard home use cases of “income taxes, email, scanning, internet, etc”, as well as printing to a Brother ink jet.
At first glance, it would seem like she would be the perfect candidate for an iPad. Modest computing needs, tight budget, and she doesn’t want junk. Or, in her words, “I hate slow computers but don’t need top of the line either.” I considered steering her towards an iPad, but that first item in the list of things she uses a computer for gave me pause, “income taxes”. I don’t know exactly what software she uses to do taxes, but I started imagining scenarios where she would run up against the edges of what the iPad, or more specifically, iOS, can do. Would she need to download and import files from banks? Would she need to read files off a USB drive? She’s into wildlife photography in Montana, how would she get the photos on the iPad?1 My mom’s no slouch, but she’s not Federico Viticci either. Pushing the boundaries of iOS is not what she cares to be spending her time doing.
I imagine Mom just wants to use a computer like she’s been doing for the past thirty years. Given the budget, and after eliminating the iPad from the equation, I briefly considered the desktop options. Of course, all of those were thrown out almost immediately. The iMacs are too expensive, the Mac Mini is too slow, and the Mac Pro, uh, no. That leads us to the laptop line. The MacBook Adorable was considered, then eliminated for lack of ports and high price. The new MacBook Pro also suffers from a lack of standard ports and a price tag that’s far too high. That leaves us with the venerable MacBook Air.
The Air has been Apple’s best laptop, and possibly best computer period, for years. While the MacBook Pro is the workhorse of the lineup, the Air’s svelte styling and weight paired with an affordable price tag to make an extremely compelling offer. While the MacBook Adorbs is beautiful and portable, Apple is pushing the envelope with the single port, and consumers are footing the bill for the new technology with a higher price. While the Air is plenty fast enough for all but the most demanding tasks, I’ve heard more than one user complain that the mobile chip in the MacBook Meh is sluggish. Jony’s styling doesn’t win out over performance with my mom.
In the end, I found a 13” Air with 8GB RAM, 128GB SSD, and an Intel i5 for $850 on Apple’s refurbished site. I think Mom will be happy with this machine for many years to come.
Next, my daughter and I are going in on a Mac for her to take to college. That’s an entirely different set of requirements and a different use case, one that I’ll follow up with here, as soon as we decide what to get.
Yes, I’m aware of the dongle. It seems like a wonky workaround. ↩︎
So, I managed to download within the three day window during which the infection was unknown, managed to hit the one download mirror that was compromised, managed to run it and breeze right through an in-retrospect-sketchy authentication dialog, without stopping to wonder why HandBrake would need admin privileges, or why it would suddenly need them when it hadn’t before. I also likely bypassed the Gatekeeper warning without even thinking about it, because I run a handful of apps that are still not signed by their developers. And that was that, my Mac was completely, entirely compromised in 3 seconds or less.
This is how you handle a compromise in your systems. Full transparency, an explanation of how it happened, how they are handling the issue, and how their customers can stay safe. Panic, once again, doing the right thing.