Vegetables of the Mind Weblog

If you have known me for any time, you will know that I cringe whenever I see the contraction “it’s” used in place of the possessive pronoun “its.” To a lesser extent, the same nails-on-chalkboard feeling is evoked when I encounter similar mistakes with their/they’re, your/you’re, and others. It’s only a matter of time before people start thinking her’s is correct, or even hi’s. But for whatever reason, the proper use of its/it’s occupies a special place in my heart. And I’ll explain why.

In geometry, I learned about asymptotes: lines that functions will never touch except at the point of infinity. I have always felt that language is a tool, much like a geometric function, and that the description of absolute truth is akin to an asymptote. Mastery of language will get you close to the asymptote, but not even the greatest of poets can quite reach it.

Difficulty with language comprehension is a major indicator of someone on the autism spectrum. I have huge problems with spoken word. I have always felt that there is a strange disconnect between my thoughts and my mouth which makes it virtually impossible to articulate my opinions and feelings by talking. Likewise, I have problems understanding others when they speak, which sometimes makes meetings at work agonizing. It takes a huge amount of brain cycles for me to process what others say, and when you start throwing in corporate business-speak, I find it tiring to the point of mental exhaustion.

However, I have always felt very comfortable with the written word since it allows me to sculpt and craft my thoughts in a way that is otherwise impossible. Sure, I don’t always get it right, but I enjoy the rules of language and the possibility that I can use it to clearly articulate my points.

And that’s where I have a problem with the misuse of it’s. Consider this sentence:

The dog’s head slowly turned on it’s massive, mangy neck.

I’m reading along, and suddenly I’m stopped dead in my tracks. I simply don’t understand what the sentence means. It could mean any of the following:

• The dog’s head slowly turned on it is massive, mangy neck.
• The dog’s head slowly turned on it has massive, mangy neck.
• The dog’s head slowly turned on it was massive, mangy neck.

I have to go back, undo the rules of language, and attempt to decipher what the author meant to say. Which then puts doubt on everything else that I’ve read up until then. Not only is the flow of language completely disrupted, I don’t even know whether I can trust my comprehension anymore.

I know I’m nitpicking, that I need to just get over it. But it’s language, and there are rules, and the reason for those rules is that language means stuff. Without the rules, there is no meaning, and no understanding of one another.

Last week I saw a big black tarantula hanging out in the bike lane.

A couple days ago, I high-tailed it past a large rattlesnake moseying along in my direction in the bike lane. It was at least 3 feet long and quite meaty. I figured it wasn’t coiled so it wouldn’t have time to strike, right? Needless to say I gave it a few feet of berth and gunned the engine to overtake with speed.

This happened about a month ago on my ride (on a bicycle) to work.

The first encounter was with a June bug. It hit my helmet, then into my hair. I thought it had found its way out until I stopped at a traffic signal, then felt it drop from my hair. As long as it’s not of the stinging variety, I don’t pay much attention to my insectual encounters.

The second, and most memorable encounter, was with a peregrine falcon that I spooked along the Murphy Canyon Creek by Qualcomm Stadium. I was just riding along the bike path when suddenly the brush just to the left and in front of me came alive and began to fly. It was so well camouflaged that I never saw it until I was upon it. I must have scared the poop out of it and it darn near scared the poop out of me as suddenly there was this bird of prey not 5 feet in front of me, taking flight. It was absolutely amazing — I mean how many times do you get to see a peregrine falcon, in flight, from above, at point blank range? Then it gained speed and altitude and winged away.

The third, and not so memorable encounter, was when I was almost doored by a dude exiting his BMW 3-series. I curse myself for not paying attention but at least I was able to perform some evasive maneuvers to clear myself of bodily harm.

All in a day’s commute.

This was 6 minutes well spent. At least for me. Y’all might think otherwise. Animation with black ink pen and 2300 sticky notes.

First, the betrayal: it turns out that techno chicken is from a Domino’s commercial for their BBQ chicken pizza. Still, the song and video are well produced but it just seems so wrong that it’s chicken-hawking Domino’s wares.

Now for the love, or that I think I am in love*, with this woman: Nellie McKay.

*love here is meant figuratively, as the only woman who truly has my heart in any meaningful sense is, of course, my wonderful wife.

1. Yellow jackets

Encounters with flying insects are not uncommon while riding a bicycle. Once in awhile you get some extra protein in your diet, but for the most part they’ll just smack into you and fly away. Or get stuck in your helmet.

Yesterday, as I was cruising around 22 mph, something with a bit of mass smacked my knee. And this was the ensuing chain of thought:

Hmm. That felt like a junebug.
But junebugs usually just bounce off.
Ow, what was that?
(looking down)
OH MY GOD HOLY HELL IT’S A F*ING YELLOW JACKET AND IT’S STINGING ME OH HOLY CRAP GET IT OFF ME GET IT OFF ME GET IT OFF ME!!!!
(hand is now furiously smacking at leg, trying to dislodge the burrowing insect)

The spectacle must have looked hilarious: cyclist cruising at speed suddenly jerks up, hand flailing, bike swerving, a stream of curse words unfit for sailors flowing from his mouth.

The thing about yellow jackets is that they don’t just sting. They bite too, and this one was intent on a dinner of Scott Patella Steak, extra rare. I actually hadn’t believed that it stung me until this morning when I looked at the larger bite wound and noticed a smaller, slightly more painful wound next to it. That and the minor swelling and soreness.

And now I can definitively say that the bite/sting combo I received a couple months back in my ear was also from a yellow jacket. That encounter was within 200 yards of this one, so they must prey on passing cyclists in that area.

Well things are pretty dreary around here, what with all that’s happening, so here is a yoo toob that may or may not lift your spirits:

Thanks to neat-o-rama for bringing this to my attention.

Link to video

First, the bad news: my brother was hit by a catering truck while riding his bike last week. He’s ok (as in no apparent permanent damage), but suffered some broken bones and other injuries. He spent several days in the hospital and is now healing at home. We’re all thinking about him and his family.

This has been a very sobering event for all of us: he and his wife had been cycling for the past year or so and both have become fit and trim, and I know my wife worries about me on my bike.

I will continue to ride and I will continue to be vigilant, now more than ever. I hope my brother and his wife will get back in the saddle but I sure do understand if they call it quits.

Now for the good news: my mom is engaged to be married to her sweetheart. He asked her to marry him in Vienna, and they are both very happy. Unfortunately I interrupted their bliss with an early morning phone call to tell her about my brother. The confluence of major life-altering events is something to ponder.

Go Dennis, go.

Link: Kucinich Presents Bush Impeachment Articles

This weekend, a friend brought up a vague memory he had of a 1980s cartoon: MASK. He had no idea what it was, only that it existed and he wanted to know more about it. Well, it just so happens that I have two members of the MASK toy line / marketing juggernaut.

The good/evil dichotomy of MASK was represented by two teams wielding somewhat-transformable vehicles: the Mobile Armored Strike Kommand (MASK) and the Vicious, Evil Network of Mayhem (VENOM). If battles could be won by acronym alone, I think the bad guys would have this one in the bag.

<useless expository backstory>
During my formative years in the 1980s, there was a television show called Amazing Stories, which was aptly named: it was sort of like Twilight Zone only not creepy. If I recall correctly, Steven Spielberg produced Amazing Stories and it even featured a cartoon created by Brad Bird who would later gain fame as a big player at Pixar. Anyway, one of the stories was about a kid who didn’t want to throw his toys away, grew up to be homeless, then auctioned his mint toys for big money. That’s why I still have all the boxes to my Transformers (and related) collection, though my collection is much devalued since I played with all my toys.
</useless expository backstory>

Here are the boxes, front and back. Click on the pics for largeness.

I love the description of Ali Bombay and his mask: “Ali Bombay of MASK with VORTEX mask that pretends to create a cyclone which can throw objects into turmoil or dig a deep hole.”

And Floyd Malloy: “Floyd Malloy of VENOM with BUCKSHOT mask that pretends to launch ball bearings.”

Pretending is the most valuable part of play. I like that the MASK lawyers did not forget this important fact.

Next we have Ali Bombay and his mask:

Ali Bombay wearing his mask. Couldn’t they have done a better job of coordinating his mask with his outfit?

Ali Bombay on his crotch rocket:

Is it a streetbike? Or is it a hovercraft? It’s both! But not at the same time. You know, Heisenberg and all that.

Next we have Floyd Malloy of the evil VENOM. Note his facial expression. He’s got crazy written all over him.

Floyd Malloy wearing his mask that pretends to shoot ball bearings. VENOM may be evil, but they get mega points for style. Is he a cylon? Is he a storm trooper? VENOM is all that and more.

Floyd Malloy makes the Hell’s Angels quiver when he comes to town on his touring cycle. I think I saw this guy at the end of Cobra.

Departing as a touring cycle but arriving as TOTAL DESTRUCTION. Or was that just vicious evil and mayhem? I get the two mixed up.

EDIT:  If you’ve read this far, have I got a treat for you. The cartoon intro on youtube (video link):

This has to be shared: http://garfieldminusgarfield.net/.

Glargh. Last Sunday, I hopped on my bike for my weekend ride and as I was pulling away from my house heard a loud PWINGGGGG from my rear wheel, which simultaneously became very wobbly. Pulled over and I will now in the future be able to recognize the sound of a broken spoke. Done for the day. At least I hadn’t gone very far.

Yesterday, I went to the bike shop and got a new spoke, popped off the rear wheel, removed the cassette, placed the dork disk in the trash, replaced the spoke, and serviced the rear hub. Went for a test spin and things seemed ok, so I packed the bike in my car for my usual partial bike commute today.

Today, everything was running smoothly and I was feeling a bit proud of my mechanical skills when suddenly the pedals dropped out from under me. No power transfer to the rear wheel. I thought maybe I had not torqued the cassette lockring enough and it had come loose, but that was not the case. The freehub was not engaging the wheel at all. This time I was stranded at just about the midpoint of my ride. So I turned around and made the long lonely unpowered journey back to my car.

So now I’ve learned all about pawls and the ratcheting mechanism that allows the rear wheel to spin freely when the pedals are not moving. Which is good to know but I’m not even sure that my freehub is replaceable.

The bike commute has been less than ideal lately. The money I save on gas is more than offset by my repairs. And if I need a new wheel then I’m looking at a costly replacement.

My bike has been in and out of commission for the last three weeks. I may be doing more harm than good with my own repairs, but everything seems unrelated to what I’ve done. After servicing the front hub, a rear spoke breaks. Fix the rear spoke and the freehub body breaks. I just want to ride my bike.

Today I’d like to give thanks to Bike Repair Online. Their article on overhauling hubs walked me through the process of replacing my front axle, cones, and bearings. For whatever reason, one of my cones had become all mangled and had stripped some of the thread off the axle. My competing hypotheses are that:

1. I overtightened the skewer and crushed the cone against the bearings
2. the hub had gone out of adjustment and my continued riding messed everything up.

Perhaps ’twas a combination of the two.

At any rate, the wheel rolls very smoothly and I feel much better for actually knowing how the mechanics of the wheel hub work. Next project will be servicing the rear wheel hub, and while I’m at it I will finally rid myself of the self-incriminating dork disk.

Contrary to most mechanical work, I don’t think I cursed a single time. Well, except for my frustration at Home Depot for not selling individual 17mm wrenches.

Oh, and thanks are also due to the wife who let me take the time to hole myself up in the garage and do the repair.

I had never heard of Sister Rosetta Tharpe until I saw this video posted on grow-a-brain.

A very talented woman belting out soulful gospel while wailing on a vintage white Gibson SG, then posted on YouTube many years later. It seems so very postmodern.

• Link to video
• Sister Rosetta Tharpe in Wikipedia

Almost a year ago, I posted about my son’s ability to plunk out Twinkle Twinkle Little Star on the piano.

His interest in the piano had tapered off for a bit, but in the last month or so he’s come around to it again. Up until now, his only interest was Twinkle Twinkle. But now he’s figured out how to play This Old Man, Frère Jacques, Jingle Bells, and this morning he figured out most of the Battle Hymn of the Republic. Oh, and London Bridge too.

Not only that, but he has also begun to harmonize. This morning, he played Twinkle Twinkle and added the 5th note of the scale below each note. I watched him playing in the key of G, and on the harmony he knew to play F# instead of F!

About a month ago I believe he was experimenting with modes of scales. He played Twinkle Twinkle in the key of C, but moved it up a note each time. So he started in Ionian, then played the tune in Dorian, Phrygian, Mixolydian, Lydian, Aeolian, and Locrian. While they all sounded strange, I think he was truly absorbing the different flavors. I say this because later I caught him doing the same thing, but instead of using the modes of C he started on the 2nd note of each scale and played it correctly: he played the tune in C major, then D major, then E major, then F# major, and so on up the keyboard. There were some keys that gave him trouble but for the most part he’s very good at finding all the sharps and flats that make the melody work in each key.

Needless to say, I’m very proud.

On Saturday, May 17, 2008, I participated in the San Diego Century 2008. Once again, the event coordinators did a fantastic job of marking the course and providing much-needed SAG support. Of course, the well-marked course didn’t deter me from taking a slight detour that upped my total mileage by a few.

The big news is that I may or may not have been smoked by a group of riders that included Floyd Landis. As I was heading back to Poway from Ramona, a very well-coordinated cluster of cyclists overtook me. I attempted to get on their wheel but only managed to pace them from about 20 yards back for a minute, then was stranded at a stoplight. At the next SAG station I saw one of the guys from the group and he was on his cell phone, saying “hey guess who I just rode with… FLOYD LANDIS!” I really wish that I could have caught that group but I can still take pride in being able to say that I may or may not have been smoked by Floyd.

Road kill report: one severely torn and mangled deer (luckily on the opposite side of the road - and let me tell you that the smell of death certainly preceded it), several snakes and rabbits, and saddest was a small ruddy-brown songbird just lying in the bike lane.

The heat was the biggest competitor on this ride. While the purple monster was a challenging hill, it paled in comparison to the climbs of the Alpine Challenge. But the purple monster had fire in its belly, and there was no cover to be found. I overheard several cyclists at subsequent aid stations commenting that they felt they were near the danger zone, and I know that I held back a lot of effort to keep myself from overheating.

I missed my goal of completing the century in under 6 hours by just under 4 minutes, but I feel pretty good about the close margin.

I do have a gripe to vent about red lights and cylists. I held back in my post about the Alpine Challenge but after what I saw this weekend, I am a little bit upset about cyclists running red lights. In the Alpine Challenge, there was a time where I was in a small group of cyclists on a main road with a traffic signal. There was cross traffic that had tripped the light, but there was a single cyclist who had already crossed the intersection and was stopped, waiting for his buddies who were in my pack. I slowed to stop at the red light, but the guy at the intersection put his hand up to stop the cross traffic, even though they had the green light and the right-of-way. His buddies crossed and the car stopped at the light missed his green light. This really bothered me, since we cyclists had taken over the Alpine area with our event and were causing a huge inconvenience to residents. This is not acceptable in my opinion.

This weekend, there were two close calls caused by cyclists running red lights. At the first, I was stopped with a group of cyclists in the left-turn lane, waiting for the light to turn green. One of the cyclists got antsy and decided to push ahead before the light turned green and almost got t-boned by two cyclists coming through the intersection. They had the right-of-way but almost met with disaster because of this guy’s bad judgment. The second close call was when I was stopped at a red light with another cyclist who also got antsy and pushed off before the green light. There was a straggling car in the oncoming lane, making a left in front of us, who had to brake hard to miss the cyclist.

I am a big supporter of cyclists’ rights on the road. But when cyclists refuse to adhere to basic traffic laws, they give up any hope of having equal rights with motor vehicles on the road. And guys, if you’re going to run lights, you’ve got to have a head on your shoulders. What I saw this weekend was just plain stupid.

Ok, enough of my ranting. The stats. They are coming.

A minor bit (pun most definitely intended) of one of my projects at work deals with endian-ness. Click the link to learn more or you can suffer my hair-brained attempt at explanation. Or, here are some links to places far¹ more interesting.

<HAIR-BRAINED EXPLANATION>
In computers, data is stored in bits (on/off). A string of 8 bits forms a byte. Bytes can be used to store numeric, binary data. But which end of the byte contains the most significant* bit? It turns out that the answer to this question is arbitrary. The number 1, stored in a binary byte, might be represented as 00000001. This is an example of big-endian bit ordering: the biggest bits are at the front of the string. The same number 1 can also be represented as 10000000. This is an example of low-endian bit ordering: the lowest bits are at the front.

Endianness, therefore, has major implications for computing across operating systems. It is absolutely essential that the OSs agree on which end of the byte contains the most significant bit. The number 1 on a low-endian platform (10000000) would be interpreted as the number 127 on a big-endian platform.

* Significant, in this case, means the bit representing the largest number. I can best explain this through example. The number fifteen (15 decimal) consists of two numbers, 1 and 5. In this case, the 1 is located in the more significant location, representing the number 10. The 5 is located in the less significant location, so even though 5 > 1, its lesser significance gives it a lesser value. Sorry, 5. It’s not you, it’s your endianness.
</ HAIR-BRAINED EXPLANATION>

Ok, now that that’s over, here comes the point of this post. When I was growing up, we sang a politically-incorrect children’s song called 10 Little Indians. Well I’ve had a really bad song going through my head all week:

One, little two, little three little endians
Four, little five, little six little endians
Seven, little eight, little nine little endians
Ten little endian bytes

¹Oh how totally weird is it that a softer world has a comic about vegetables on the day I post this?

Here’s an infotainment device that gauges your position on the autism spectrum.

Last night I scored 37 (very high). I took it again today and put more thought into my responses and scored 35 (not as very high).

The autism spectrum quotient

Last Saturday, I rode the Alpine Challenge. It was a challenging ride indeed. I’ve done a lot of hill training but none of the hills I train on are over 2 miles. This ride was much more mountainous than I’ve ever attempted and it was really tough. I don’t know how long the ascents were but there were a couple that seemed to go on forever.

The start was interesting; this is only my second event and the only event where I started on time and in the main pack. I have no experience riding in a peloton and it was actually kind of fun to be in a huge mass of cyclists trying not to lock wheels with anyone. The ride began on a long ascent so everyone was trying to find their groove while not killing themselves for the rest of the ride.

I found myself passing a lot of cyclists on the ascents but losing to them on the descents. I might owe that to the smaller gearing and wheels of my mountain bike: easier to climb but no larger gears for speed. Plus all those roadies had their extra-fancy gear, what with their Dura-Ace drive trains and carbon frames and all. There were some beautiful road bikes out there and I confess that I was drooling with bike envy. Some day I will get a road bike.

The last 5 miles were really hard. While the last mile was a nice downhill coast to the finish, the 4 in front were uphill. By that time, the mid day sun was blazing and there was no shade to be found. I didn’t have much gas left and the heat took everything from me.

The ride support was great: SAG stops at just the right moments with lots of drinks and food, and support cars driving back and forth for mechanical issues. It makes such a huge difference to not have to worry about what to bring on a long ride.

My average speed of 14.8 wasn’t so hot, but I broke my top speed record when I hit 48 going downhill with a tailwind. Gotta love the tailwind.

Stats, stats, stats:

China does not have a stellar record on the human rights front, but the Olympics are not the venue to discuss the issue. I’m sad to see all of the strife and conflict brought upon the torch-bearers while bringing the torch to Beijing. I’m sad that political leaders are boycotting the opening ceremony.

The Olympics are about celebrating athletes and the physical feats that the human body can accomplish. Bickering over political ideology is disrespectful of all the athletes who have dedicated their lives to the event.