On Monday, my wife's iBook abruptly died. One second she was browsing with Firefox, the next she was watching inexplicable patterns morphing on her LCD. We took it to the Mac store and they diagnosed it: "99% sure it's the logic board". (I think that when Mac people say "logic board", they're trying to say "motherboard" but it comes out wrong, every time.) $400 for another new logic board - it was just replaced two years
ago. This is a G3 800, and not worth $400 more, we decided.
So we just picked up another G3 800 for $300 today, in better shape, from a friend. But since we needed the old data, I set about removing the hard drive from the old iBook so I could use my handy-dandy 2.5-3.5 IDE converter to read the data. Thankfully, I found a very precise and helpful guide (PDF) before I set about dismantling the old iBook. So, after removing the keyboard, the airport card, 32 screws of various sizes and types, the bottom of the case, some shielding, some tape, and some little greasy springs that help out the battery contacts, I managed to remove the hard drive. Now, the iBook looks like this.
I plugged in the adapter, set the drive gently in a test box on my network, ran 'mount -t hfsplus', and rsynced everything very nicely to my fileserver.
Then, I realized I could replace the 12GB drive in my own laptop - a PIII Compaq M300 running Ubuntu - with this neat-o 30GB drive from the iBook. Unable to find good instructions on taking the M300 apart, I dreaded the perils...but I took out three screws, popped off a small side panel, and extracted the hard drive. Now why couldn't the iBook have been that easy? Granted, it's awfully slick how the iBook has so few visible screws -- are there any at all? But seriously, folks, we sent it in last time and it came back with little gouges around the edge where they pried the case apart. It seems like they could save themselves some time and preserve the aesthetic beyond the first repair by designing in some well-placed screws.
My operating system has just finished rsyncing to my new 30GB drive, so I'd best go try the laptop out.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Sunday, April 09, 2006
Pullman: Better than I thought?
I just finished The Amber Spyglass and I have more good things to say about Pullman than I did last time. Coincidentally, I've also started reading The Broken Bridge, which I like just fine so far and may have more to say about later since the main character is named Ginny, just like a very respectable Rowling character we all know. Is my Rowling-Pullman character-naming theory shot through with this new revelation?!? I'm inclined to guess not, but I need to finish The Broken Bridge before I comment further.
Unfortunately for this post and for my progress in reading delightful fiction, I also have a paper due Tuesday and so must spend my time expositing about what Pierre Duhem might say about the type of theory that a "softer science" than physics, namely psysiology, ought to pursue. If you think that sounds interesting, that's because it is interesting. If you don't, then be glad I'm done writing here for now.
Unfortunately for this post and for my progress in reading delightful fiction, I also have a paper due Tuesday and so must spend my time expositing about what Pierre Duhem might say about the type of theory that a "softer science" than physics, namely psysiology, ought to pursue. If you think that sounds interesting, that's because it is interesting. If you don't, then be glad I'm done writing here for now.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Open Letter about Open Source
One of my greatest passions in life is Free Software. I like it a lot, and I don't think it makes any sense for educational institutions not to be using it. So I wrote up this Open Letter to Educational Institutions over on the Software Freedom Day wiki. Feel free to customize it and send it to your school.
Subtle Obviousness in Harry Potter
Once every three or four months I think of something that might be worth blogging about, but I generally don't like editing text without using Vim and I didn't even want to think about different blogging toolsets and markup and so on and so forth. But now I've given in and here we go.
So lately I've been reading Phillip Pullman's "His Dark Materials" trilogy for the second time since 2002, and some points that John Granger made in The Hidden Key To Harry Potter are presenting themselves more forcefully. Pullman has a whole series about Sally Lockhart. He's got a character in The Golden Compass named somebody-or-other Trelawney, and one of the witch queens in The Subtle Knife is named, of all things, Ruta Skadi. My wife is skeptical, but I'm totally convinced that Granger was right, and Rowling is expressing an opinion of Pullman and/or his work by her characters Gilderoy Lockhart, Sybill Trelawney, and Rita Skeeter.
Just think about what those characters have in common.
Even better, let's think about Pullman's work, and we'll even limit ourselves to His Dark Materials. Pullman's a very vocal atheist, and he quotes Paradise Lost in the front of The Golden Compass just to get us into the right frame of mind. Pullman aims to correct Milton's mistake: paradise wasn't there to be lost, and if we stop looking for the mythical and instead glory in the dust that we are and shall be, then we can get over our preoccupation with sin and our slavery to the church and get on with the important things in life, like having sex to achieve our own paradise in the end. Or something like that; it's been a while since I finished The Amber Spyglass the first time. And along the way the horrors perpetrated by the church and its agents are fought at every point, we learn how materialism is a blessed succor to minds weary of the deceit of spirtualism, and God himself, the Authority, the false "Creator", is fortunate enough to be relieved of the burden of his sad, tired, and worthless existence.
The second title in His Dark Materials ("HDM") carries tremendous irony. If we're willing to grant that Pullman started with a "subtle knife" in book one, by book two he's brandishing a broadsword requiring both hands, and by book three he's wildly swinging a club and pausing every now and then to pound his chest with his fists. He's not subtle to start with, and it just gets worse.
I was talking with a fantasy-loving frind of mine the other day, and I said that I think HDM starts out very imaginatively and well-written, but that it degenerates to the point that his characters are thinly-veiled (thin-lipped?) mouthpieces for the author. My friend disagreed and said he thought HDM was an enjoyable read but neither imaginative or well-written -- even to start with. I disagree, but like I said, my friend reads a lot more fantasy than I do, so he may know better. (We're both at a loss as to the number of awards Pullman's won for HDM. Who can explain these things?)
In any case, Pullman's work is anything but subtle. And yet we have a contemporary of his, the much-celebrated J.K. Rowling, writing a fantasy series of her own and enjoying what everyone must admit is runaway success. How does her subtlety compare to Pullman's? The Googlefight has Pullman ahead 522k to 334k, but maybe by winning this one Pullman loses. "C'est moi! C'est moi!" Pullman's forced to admit, thus book two is "The Subtle Knife". If you're vying for "Most Subtle", you probably don't want to put "subtle" in the name of your book... If you agree with me about the significance of the character name pairs I mentioned above, you can see how thoroughly Rowling mocks Pullman without resorting to an ex-nun in her books saying right out loud that "Pullman's self-important and professionally incompetent."
And just tonight, about three hours ago, I finished watching The Goblet of Fire with that same friend. Since he hasn't read the books I was filling in some details about house elves and their much greater role in the book, and it hit me right over the head: house elves are like housewives. Let's see what Rowling's done here:
1. House elves perform household duties.
2. House elves must obey their masters.
3. House elves are not paid for their work.
4. Hermione is a very intelligent, independently-minded young woman.
5. Hermione knows what's best for house elves -- for them to be released from their slavery.
6. With the exception of Dobby, house elves don't want to be "freed".
Surely this is some sort of commentary on the social liberation of women. Hermione is painted as affectionately pathetic in her misunderstanding sympathy for house elves. Dobby is clearly a hero, doing what he knows is ultimately right even when it requires him to punish himself for lesser wrongs. And yet every other house elf we've met is by nature, we are told, impelled to serve and content, even thrilled, to do so. Based only on books 1-6, it appears to me that Rowling (a very intelligent and successful woman herself) is sympathetic to women who want to liberate other women and perfectly accepting of women who seek success outside the home. But -- and this is the controversial part -- she also seems to recognize that lots and lots of women might just be very happy staying at home. It does feel rather weird when the other elves are so ashamed of Dobby's freedom, but it feels equally and oppositely weird when Hermione is unable to accept the joy that elves find in service.
I've been wondering for a while if HP7 will end with the destruction of the magical world and the end of magic*, though I'm not sure what that would mean for all the magical creatures. In such a situation, it seems possible that a liberation of sorts may be coming in which the nature of house elves will change and a more direct opinion on the social status of women may emerge. But I doubt it, and I hope not. The marvelous complexity and, yes, subtlety of the house elves' situation is superior to anything that could be wrapped up as a pro- or anti- statement.
Maybe you don't think Rowing is subtle, and you think I've just said the obvious out loud. Maybe everybody has been reading "house elf" as "housewife" all along, and S.P.E.W. as "Society for the Protection of English Women". Maybe I just caught up with the rest of you. Well, if so, then I apologize for failing to Google very well, because I wasn't able to easily find anybody writing about this issue in Harry Potter, and yet now that it's occurred to me it seems blindingly obvious.
Maybe sometimes it's best to make your point directly and clearly, yet surely a master artist can do better by making a point profound through subtle artistry. If Pullman's wrong and God exists, and if God is the master artist, then it's obvious that we, his characters, nun and ex-nun alike, serve our creator as something more profound than thinly-veiled mouthpieces.
I doubt that if Lancelot had been made the partner of Eve we'd be in Eden still, just as I doubt that cheering on Sir Lancelot, as Pullman seems to want to do, is the right response to our banishment.
* I still wonder, but I rather doubt that we're headed in that direction.
So lately I've been reading Phillip Pullman's "His Dark Materials" trilogy for the second time since 2002, and some points that John Granger made in The Hidden Key To Harry Potter are presenting themselves more forcefully. Pullman has a whole series about Sally Lockhart. He's got a character in The Golden Compass named somebody-or-other Trelawney, and one of the witch queens in The Subtle Knife is named, of all things, Ruta Skadi. My wife is skeptical, but I'm totally convinced that Granger was right, and Rowling is expressing an opinion of Pullman and/or his work by her characters Gilderoy Lockhart, Sybill Trelawney, and Rita Skeeter.
Just think about what those characters have in common.
Even better, let's think about Pullman's work, and we'll even limit ourselves to His Dark Materials. Pullman's a very vocal atheist, and he quotes Paradise Lost in the front of The Golden Compass just to get us into the right frame of mind. Pullman aims to correct Milton's mistake: paradise wasn't there to be lost, and if we stop looking for the mythical and instead glory in the dust that we are and shall be, then we can get over our preoccupation with sin and our slavery to the church and get on with the important things in life, like having sex to achieve our own paradise in the end. Or something like that; it's been a while since I finished The Amber Spyglass the first time. And along the way the horrors perpetrated by the church and its agents are fought at every point, we learn how materialism is a blessed succor to minds weary of the deceit of spirtualism, and God himself, the Authority, the false "Creator", is fortunate enough to be relieved of the burden of his sad, tired, and worthless existence.
The second title in His Dark Materials ("HDM") carries tremendous irony. If we're willing to grant that Pullman started with a "subtle knife" in book one, by book two he's brandishing a broadsword requiring both hands, and by book three he's wildly swinging a club and pausing every now and then to pound his chest with his fists. He's not subtle to start with, and it just gets worse.
I was talking with a fantasy-loving frind of mine the other day, and I said that I think HDM starts out very imaginatively and well-written, but that it degenerates to the point that his characters are thinly-veiled (thin-lipped?) mouthpieces for the author. My friend disagreed and said he thought HDM was an enjoyable read but neither imaginative or well-written -- even to start with. I disagree, but like I said, my friend reads a lot more fantasy than I do, so he may know better. (We're both at a loss as to the number of awards Pullman's won for HDM. Who can explain these things?)
In any case, Pullman's work is anything but subtle. And yet we have a contemporary of his, the much-celebrated J.K. Rowling, writing a fantasy series of her own and enjoying what everyone must admit is runaway success. How does her subtlety compare to Pullman's? The Googlefight has Pullman ahead 522k to 334k, but maybe by winning this one Pullman loses. "C'est moi! C'est moi!" Pullman's forced to admit, thus book two is "The Subtle Knife". If you're vying for "Most Subtle", you probably don't want to put "subtle" in the name of your book... If you agree with me about the significance of the character name pairs I mentioned above, you can see how thoroughly Rowling mocks Pullman without resorting to an ex-nun in her books saying right out loud that "Pullman's self-important and professionally incompetent."
And just tonight, about three hours ago, I finished watching The Goblet of Fire with that same friend. Since he hasn't read the books I was filling in some details about house elves and their much greater role in the book, and it hit me right over the head: house elves are like housewives. Let's see what Rowling's done here:
1. House elves perform household duties.
2. House elves must obey their masters.
3. House elves are not paid for their work.
4. Hermione is a very intelligent, independently-minded young woman.
5. Hermione knows what's best for house elves -- for them to be released from their slavery.
6. With the exception of Dobby, house elves don't want to be "freed".
Surely this is some sort of commentary on the social liberation of women. Hermione is painted as affectionately pathetic in her misunderstanding sympathy for house elves. Dobby is clearly a hero, doing what he knows is ultimately right even when it requires him to punish himself for lesser wrongs. And yet every other house elf we've met is by nature, we are told, impelled to serve and content, even thrilled, to do so. Based only on books 1-6, it appears to me that Rowling (a very intelligent and successful woman herself) is sympathetic to women who want to liberate other women and perfectly accepting of women who seek success outside the home. But -- and this is the controversial part -- she also seems to recognize that lots and lots of women might just be very happy staying at home. It does feel rather weird when the other elves are so ashamed of Dobby's freedom, but it feels equally and oppositely weird when Hermione is unable to accept the joy that elves find in service.
I've been wondering for a while if HP7 will end with the destruction of the magical world and the end of magic*, though I'm not sure what that would mean for all the magical creatures. In such a situation, it seems possible that a liberation of sorts may be coming in which the nature of house elves will change and a more direct opinion on the social status of women may emerge. But I doubt it, and I hope not. The marvelous complexity and, yes, subtlety of the house elves' situation is superior to anything that could be wrapped up as a pro- or anti- statement.
Maybe you don't think Rowing is subtle, and you think I've just said the obvious out loud. Maybe everybody has been reading "house elf" as "housewife" all along, and S.P.E.W. as "Society for the Protection of English Women". Maybe I just caught up with the rest of you. Well, if so, then I apologize for failing to Google very well, because I wasn't able to easily find anybody writing about this issue in Harry Potter, and yet now that it's occurred to me it seems blindingly obvious.
Maybe sometimes it's best to make your point directly and clearly, yet surely a master artist can do better by making a point profound through subtle artistry. If Pullman's wrong and God exists, and if God is the master artist, then it's obvious that we, his characters, nun and ex-nun alike, serve our creator as something more profound than thinly-veiled mouthpieces.
I doubt that if Lancelot had been made the partner of Eve we'd be in Eden still, just as I doubt that cheering on Sir Lancelot, as Pullman seems to want to do, is the right response to our banishment.
* I still wonder, but I rather doubt that we're headed in that direction.
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