Let's try an experiment. Let me do some blabbering, filling in some blanks with words, and then see if there's a subtext. Or maybe just a pattern.

Sample 1

I use a paper towel dispenser every day. It's not what we had when I was growing up, but it's what we have at my workplace and I've gotten used to it. Heck, I even prefer it sometimes. It makes sense to me.

Recently I found myself in a different place, but needing to get some paper towels. And lo, there was a paper towel dispenser. But it wasn't like the one I'd used before. It was [a sensor-activated paper towel dispenser, one that tries to automatically | a manually-operated paper towel dispenser, one where you have to turn a crank just enough to] dispense the right amount of paper towel. Of course, used to the more logical, other, kind of paper towel dispenser, using this thing felt like using some kind of alien technology that was both sick and wrong.

I felt this so strongly, in fact, that I felt that I needed to warn others about this horribly designed and built paper towel dispenser. I did, and was shocked to find that others actually preferred to have their paper towel dispensers work this way. "Are they insane?", I asked myself. "No, they just don't know better," I replied, and decided to go on a warpath, to show them reason and convince them of the error of their ways. But no, they didn't like that. They thought I was wrong.

It was like I'd entered some kind of bizarro world. I mean, what kind of mentally unhinged person would want a paper towel dispenser that worked so unlike the kind I used? I decided to spend more time trying to convince people of how a paper towel dispenser should work than actually getting work done. It's important, and my opinion counts more than others (or it should, because I'm right), and if they would just listen to me, the world would be a much better place.

But no, they don't listen. So I have to waste my time arguing with them. And all of the energy devoted toward having multiple paper towel dispensers is tearing the community apart. I can't stand it. Why can't we all just get along and settle this by admitting that I'm right?

Oh right, the subtext. I'm not talking about paper towel dispensers. I'm talking about the Linux Desktop.

Sample 2

I use a Linux Desktop every day. It's not what we had when I was growing up, but it's what we have at my workplace and I've gotten used to it. Heck, I even prefer it sometimes. It makes sense to me.

Recently I found myself in a different place, but needing to get some work done. And lo, there was a Linux Desktop. But it wasn't like the one I'd used before. It was [GNOME | KDE | J. Random Desktop ]. Of course, used to the more logical, other, kind of Linux Desktop, using this thing felt like using some kind of alien technology that was both sick and wrong.

I felt this so strongly, in fact, that I felt that I needed to warn others about this horribly designed and built Linux Desktop. I did, and was shocked to find that others actually preferred to have their Linux Desktop work this way. "Are they insane?", I asked myself. "No, they just don't know better," I replied, and decided to go on a warpath, to show them reason and convince them of the error of their ways. But no, they didn't like that. They thought I was wrong.

It was like I'd entered some kind of bizarro world. I mean, what kind of mentally unhinged person would want a Linux Desktop that worked so unlike the kind I used? I decided to spend more time trying to convince people of how a Linux Desktop should work than actually getting work done. It's important, and my opinion counts more than others (or it should, because I'm right), and if they would just listen to me, the world would be a much better place.

But no, they don't listen. So I have to waste my time arguing with them. And all of the energy devoted toward having multiple Linux Desktops is tearing the community apart. I can't stand it. Why can't we all just get along and settle this by admitting that I'm right?

Or maybe it's about X servers with accelerated OpenGL. Really, most competing technology discussions fit this mold. And it's boring as hell. Actually, I imagine the real Hell (if there is one) is quite interesting, if unpleasant, so it's boringer than hell. I mean really, does any of this matter in the long run? Does it pass the 5 year test (will I care in 5 years?). I think I'll take a nap now. Wake me up when something newsworthy happens.

Do we really need more snow? I mean, I had plans for the day. Instead, I found myself cooking — cooking food I didn't feel like eating. What's that all about?

Sometimes, when I'm not busy thinking about work, or the future, or how my life isn't exactly what I hoped it would be (for starters, I always hoped I'd be cooler than I turned out to be), or what's wrong with my brownie recipe (still... too... dry), I come back to the question do the ends justify the means?

Usually I count myself in the no camp, but that answer is usually accompanied by the nagging question what if they're right?. What if the people in the "yes" camp are right? What if the ends really do justify the means? What if acts I'd consider inexcusable must in fact be excusable, if they're done in the name of a greater good? What if they're not just excusable, but necessary? And what if I'm just too naive to understand that?

Put another way, if you were taken back in time, and pointed at a child, no, a baby, and told that that child would grow up to destroy, no, murder, millions, no, hundreds of millions of people, could you then kill that child? I posed that question to a friend recently, and he asked me how I'd respond. I had to say "no", I couldn't. But, in the end, it's the most objective good for humanity, he argued. And all I could come up with was that we have to be more than a random factor, more than the sum of a bunch of neurons firing and making haphazard decisions, randomly feeding into the sea of history. There's got to be more to us than that. And I can't back that up with anything more than a feeling. Which in a way, is one definition for Faith. And it's surprising to me at least, to find, that after all that I've learned and seen and heard and experienced, that I have still some at all.

Snow is big. Especially in large amounts. But at least Boston managed to dig itself out reasonably well on Sunday, so the roads were passable on Monday. And this year I'm no longer living at the top of a steep hill, so there's no chance of skidding (in the car or on foot) like last year.

Thus endeth the big giant snow storm for mid-February. Counting the ones from December and January, I think we're done for the season.

Having been a long time fan of horror and many things weird, I picked up a copy of The Best of H.P. Lovecraft a couple of weeks ago. (The Wikipedia articles which cover his works really made it look like fascinating stuff.) It gathered dust after that, but as I prepared to retire for the evening tonight, I absently scanned the cable guide and came across Necronomicon: Book of the Dead, which purports to be an adaptation of three of Lovecraft's stories. So I change the channel, because I need some background noise, and start reading. About five minutes later, I realize that the movie is presenting the exact story I'm reading. Weird. And by weird I mean a little bit creepy.

Filing 40 duplicates of your bug in a row doesn't make things go faster.

Spent a large part of the day discovering that a function which was advertised as reentrant was in fact not (by virtue of calling functions which are not reentrant, which isn't easy to spot unless you're looking for it), and the case where it's called recursively ends up deadlocking the calling application. I'd have banged my head repeatedly against hard objects if it wouldn't have been noisy and disruptive.

Mood: dejected and peeved.