My ol' Dad stroked out about twenty years ago but it didn't kill him. His speech was almost entirely gone so I thought, hmm, I wonder if a computer program can help. That's when WEBSTER was born and he was in the family for many years. My ol' Dad even used it after he was talking again to try to further build his skills.
In case I have not been as assiduous about this as I have thought I have been, the Queen Bee volunteered to create the text files to be used for this and, in case you think I am being patronizing about text files, consider what is involved in researching the lists of words you will use for drills for some person with a profound brain trauma, particularly when you love that person. She did that, it was enormous work requiring deep thought, and I'm not patronizing anyone.
Through all that time, I was blowing reefer constantly, destroying my productivity, imagination, and ambition, you know. At the same time I was burning on mainframe computers at the university, I was learning electronic music (which I later ended up hating), and I was relatively-new to marriage. Sometimes I hate myself for my slothfulness and how much ganja exacerbated it (larfs).
Ladies, don't ever marry a musico/programmer. You will never see him. From that you may reasonably conclude I never learned much about marriage even while learning so much about the other endeavors. There's no need to retell that story as I'm sure you know already it will not turn out well. The Mystery Lady knows I never forget but that's not a reason to fail to tell her again I'm sorry I sucked as a husband.
After WEBSTER was largely completed, I wrote a letter to the family which said, I thought, how happy I was to have had the opportunity, along with Queen Bee, to do this. My ol' Dad was brain-traumatized but remained incredibly incisive regardless and he asked, "Are you trying to build up what you did or put someone else down?"
His mind was laser beams like that and I'm not sure I was trying to do anything negative but I wasn't positive and I never sent the letter. I have no criticism of him as he was right.
Scientists don't pound with truth but rather ask you questions until you find it for yourself.
(Ed: so you're not much of a scientist!)
Obviously but I don't see a PhD tag hanging after your name, Roger Rabbit. There's the Facebook thinking 'I read a lot of books and that's as good as a PhD' but it's not the same because the PhD reads a lot of books ... but doesn't do anything else so s/he can focus entirely on what's in them. It's the second part which social networks miss and which gives rise to anti-vaxx, survivable nuclear wars, perpetual motion machines, and other hare-brained science of that nature. It's America, the individual and his or her knowledge, regardless of how weakly it was obtained, is supreme, don'tcha know.
From what I see years later, it doesn't appear my ol' Dad had that talk with the others. Read the blog comments and make up your own mind. Don't look for anything supportive in them unless you go back about six months or so. That's not so much an attack as the hope things will move in a more positive direction. The best conversation is always in questions so what is your dream? No, I am not being facetious. Cadillac Man and I talk along that theme quite a bit as it's not so much what are you doing but rather where does it go.
There's only one thing you get from false information or mischaracterization of drugs: more junkies. The GOP has been doing this ever since the 40's when Harry Anslinger said marijuana makes black men rape white women. That thinking his prevailed, albeit with minor modification, ever since. He's the same one who get marijuana classified the same as heroin and made one of the most destructive mistakes ever in U.S. drug management.
How imaginative of Anslinger to simply cover the mantra of the Andrew Jackson era: don't give alcohol to Indians because it makes them crazy. In effect, the entire U.S. drug policy is just another emasculated cover song on the "Britain's Got Talent" show.
Look around you at the heroin problem and opiate addiction in general which America has moved up to the level of an Olympic sport after all that false information.
I rest my case.
As to whether I'm smoking reefer this morning: yep.
Note: major high five to America on replacing Andrew Jackson on the twenty-dollar bill with Harriet Tubman. That's so cool it needs an article of its own.
There was a time when I was quite public in reviewing whether my behavior has had any influence on creating junkies. I wrote of my one experience using heroin in Edinburgh and the purpose in writing must have been, in part, to say, holy fuck, I just did some heroin ... but ... much more than that it was a horrendously bad experience and I thought that was a worth documenting as an Aesop's Fable or some such.
The second-guessing was largely as to whether people would miss the point and see only, dayum, he did some heroin. In that case, my documentation is not assistive but rather is only publicity. After some review, I decided that was not true unless there's a class of singularly-stupid junkies out there and they may be many things but they usually aren't stupid.
It would be better if America as a whole did some second-guessing of its motives and intentions vis a vis the so-called Drug War and its methods. The failure is apparent yet they do not change. Surely everyone has seen Einstein's estimation of insanity as repeating something you have seen does not work.
Those who call me lazy and unproductive couldn't have kept up with me on their best days as my work hours were legend and I built more things than I could ever possibly remember. And then I went home to do another shift trying to learn music and made more things.
That my work hours are not that way now causes me no shame whatsoever; in fact, it surprises me the crash did not come sooner. I thought I would vapor lock and get immediate relief from the judgmentalism. Instead it will continue to judge and I will continue to rot. Such is life in America.
So it goes.
What day is Judgment Day in America?
Every day, cabron.
Note: I learned that word from hookers in Juarez, Mexico. They're remarkable women and you bet they go to church on Sundays. I have no criticism of that as you bet also they believed and for real.
Any criticism I have of morality in Juarez has nothing to do with hookers but rather with the bullfighters whom I regard as the only people on the planet more cowardly than politicians. Perhaps I shall write an article on how it goes in a Mexican bullfight but it's not a good experience to recall. It's not Hemingway, it's evil. The bull dies.
(Ed: kind of judgmental, aren't you?)
Dunno, ask the bull.
A talented writer can make any subject interesting but a talented writer should also know which subjects are worth making interesting. We submit killing a bull is not one of them, romanticizing it is even worse.
When heroin has been abundant all my life, I could easily have obtained some if it were my purpose to do so, and it was my purpose to experiment with lots of drugs, it's been some question to me of why I was always firm in my rejection of heroin. My earliest memory of any discussion of the matter was when my ol' Dad wanted me and I'm not sure whomever else to watch "The Man with the Golden Arm" in which Frank Sinatra played a junkie. It did not go well for Frankie.
Note: even though it's a fifties movie with less than impressive production qualities, it's still a significant piece of celluloid and I watched it again not so many years ago.
All my life the thinking has been in my head heroin equals needle equals junkie equals death. I do think it all traces back to that movie as I saw that as true amid a whole lot of lies. It may well be my ol' Dad and Frank Sinatra saved my life.
Call that exaggeration if you will but I don't believe it is.
There's also a wee bit of confounding information since my ol' Dad had a cat he called Benzedrine and he talked matter-of-factly about eating bennies during studies for his degrees which he got at young ages. This would have been in the early forties in New Zealand so it probably explains why there was little concern about bennies when there was a war in the world.
Years later at Crow's it was fashionable to eat a fistful of bennies and then drink all night. You will get a hangover which will make you beg for death but everything for the party, man.
Some lessons were clear and some were a bit confusing. Extremely few lessons were ever spoken out loud.
Cocaine was not characterized in Frankie's movie and I had no particular thought of it. The result was I nearly got myself into serious trouble with it more than once. Others in my family did as well. This fact leads me all the more to think of the importance of Frankie's movie, particularly in seeing it at such an early age. Kids can't handle such things? Bulllllshite.
Note: the only thing my parents were hugely insistent on censoring was "The Untouchables" as that one was just too violent, you kids can't watch that one.
There were some other anti-smack movies of this nature and "Joe" in the late sixties (I think) was another which was quite powerful but the one which was always most eloquent to me was the first with Sinatra.
Nah, I don't think crediting Sinatra and my ol' Dad is any kind of an exaggeration. It was genius on my ol' Dad's part because I don't recall him ever giving any grand pronouncements on heroin; he had never used it so what does he know. However, the scientist way gets him thinking, ok, let's get someone who does know and see what comes from that.
Apparently heroin sobriety comes from that. Evidence: the fifty to five-five years which have passed since seeing the movie with him which saw many, many other drugs enter my body but not that one.
Yah, ol' Dad, I sure as hell do remember that and thank you. WEBSTER was tiny after the things you did.
For the geekish among you, WEBSTER was written in Commodore BASIC and I used assembler subroutines for the parts which needed the speed. The system ran on a Commodore 64, one of the lowliest but still one of the coolest computers which ever existed. Later I rewrote the entire thing in assembler maybe just because I could. Unknown what motivated that upgrade.
The assembler was for the Motorola 6502 chip which gave three registers, two index registers and an accumulator. Those were all you had for every function your assembler routine you would perform and yet it was astounding how much could be done with them. I have seen many, many computers of all sizes in my life but I have never seen anything as fast as a Commodore 64 running an assembler program because it has absolutely nothing else to do. It's not multi-tasking, it's not even virtual.
One routine was written so it was dispatched in-between refreshes for the screen (i.e. at 1/60th of a second intervals). There's no possible way your eye is fast enough to detect changes made at that speed and the result is incredibly smooth, incredibly fast actions. The reason for writing something like that is in animation of sprites, etc. When you move something around the screen, you don't want it to jerk or surge, etc.
(Ed: bragging?)
Nah, fondly remembering. I have zero interest in writing code anymore but it's sometimes cool to think of what they did. Most programs just come and go but that one had personal significance in a huge way.
In case I have not been as assiduous about this as I have thought I have been, the Queen Bee volunteered to create the text files to be used for this and, in case you think I am being patronizing about text files, consider what is involved in researching the lists of words you will use for drills for some person with a profound brain trauma, particularly when you love that person. She did that, it was enormous work requiring deep thought, and I'm not patronizing anyone.
Through all that time, I was blowing reefer constantly, destroying my productivity, imagination, and ambition, you know. At the same time I was burning on mainframe computers at the university, I was learning electronic music (which I later ended up hating), and I was relatively-new to marriage. Sometimes I hate myself for my slothfulness and how much ganja exacerbated it (larfs).
Ladies, don't ever marry a musico/programmer. You will never see him. From that you may reasonably conclude I never learned much about marriage even while learning so much about the other endeavors. There's no need to retell that story as I'm sure you know already it will not turn out well. The Mystery Lady knows I never forget but that's not a reason to fail to tell her again I'm sorry I sucked as a husband.
After WEBSTER was largely completed, I wrote a letter to the family which said, I thought, how happy I was to have had the opportunity, along with Queen Bee, to do this. My ol' Dad was brain-traumatized but remained incredibly incisive regardless and he asked, "Are you trying to build up what you did or put someone else down?"
His mind was laser beams like that and I'm not sure I was trying to do anything negative but I wasn't positive and I never sent the letter. I have no criticism of him as he was right.
Scientists don't pound with truth but rather ask you questions until you find it for yourself.
(Ed: so you're not much of a scientist!)
Obviously but I don't see a PhD tag hanging after your name, Roger Rabbit. There's the Facebook thinking 'I read a lot of books and that's as good as a PhD' but it's not the same because the PhD reads a lot of books ... but doesn't do anything else so s/he can focus entirely on what's in them. It's the second part which social networks miss and which gives rise to anti-vaxx, survivable nuclear wars, perpetual motion machines, and other hare-brained science of that nature. It's America, the individual and his or her knowledge, regardless of how weakly it was obtained, is supreme, don'tcha know.
From what I see years later, it doesn't appear my ol' Dad had that talk with the others. Read the blog comments and make up your own mind. Don't look for anything supportive in them unless you go back about six months or so. That's not so much an attack as the hope things will move in a more positive direction. The best conversation is always in questions so what is your dream? No, I am not being facetious. Cadillac Man and I talk along that theme quite a bit as it's not so much what are you doing but rather where does it go.
There's only one thing you get from false information or mischaracterization of drugs: more junkies. The GOP has been doing this ever since the 40's when Harry Anslinger said marijuana makes black men rape white women. That thinking his prevailed, albeit with minor modification, ever since. He's the same one who get marijuana classified the same as heroin and made one of the most destructive mistakes ever in U.S. drug management.
How imaginative of Anslinger to simply cover the mantra of the Andrew Jackson era: don't give alcohol to Indians because it makes them crazy. In effect, the entire U.S. drug policy is just another emasculated cover song on the "Britain's Got Talent" show.
Look around you at the heroin problem and opiate addiction in general which America has moved up to the level of an Olympic sport after all that false information.
I rest my case.
As to whether I'm smoking reefer this morning: yep.
Note: major high five to America on replacing Andrew Jackson on the twenty-dollar bill with Harriet Tubman. That's so cool it needs an article of its own.
There was a time when I was quite public in reviewing whether my behavior has had any influence on creating junkies. I wrote of my one experience using heroin in Edinburgh and the purpose in writing must have been, in part, to say, holy fuck, I just did some heroin ... but ... much more than that it was a horrendously bad experience and I thought that was a worth documenting as an Aesop's Fable or some such.
The second-guessing was largely as to whether people would miss the point and see only, dayum, he did some heroin. In that case, my documentation is not assistive but rather is only publicity. After some review, I decided that was not true unless there's a class of singularly-stupid junkies out there and they may be many things but they usually aren't stupid.
It would be better if America as a whole did some second-guessing of its motives and intentions vis a vis the so-called Drug War and its methods. The failure is apparent yet they do not change. Surely everyone has seen Einstein's estimation of insanity as repeating something you have seen does not work.
Those who call me lazy and unproductive couldn't have kept up with me on their best days as my work hours were legend and I built more things than I could ever possibly remember. And then I went home to do another shift trying to learn music and made more things.
That my work hours are not that way now causes me no shame whatsoever; in fact, it surprises me the crash did not come sooner. I thought I would vapor lock and get immediate relief from the judgmentalism. Instead it will continue to judge and I will continue to rot. Such is life in America.
So it goes.
What day is Judgment Day in America?
Every day, cabron.
Note: I learned that word from hookers in Juarez, Mexico. They're remarkable women and you bet they go to church on Sundays. I have no criticism of that as you bet also they believed and for real.
Any criticism I have of morality in Juarez has nothing to do with hookers but rather with the bullfighters whom I regard as the only people on the planet more cowardly than politicians. Perhaps I shall write an article on how it goes in a Mexican bullfight but it's not a good experience to recall. It's not Hemingway, it's evil. The bull dies.
(Ed: kind of judgmental, aren't you?)
Dunno, ask the bull.
A talented writer can make any subject interesting but a talented writer should also know which subjects are worth making interesting. We submit killing a bull is not one of them, romanticizing it is even worse.
When heroin has been abundant all my life, I could easily have obtained some if it were my purpose to do so, and it was my purpose to experiment with lots of drugs, it's been some question to me of why I was always firm in my rejection of heroin. My earliest memory of any discussion of the matter was when my ol' Dad wanted me and I'm not sure whomever else to watch "The Man with the Golden Arm" in which Frank Sinatra played a junkie. It did not go well for Frankie.
Note: even though it's a fifties movie with less than impressive production qualities, it's still a significant piece of celluloid and I watched it again not so many years ago.
All my life the thinking has been in my head heroin equals needle equals junkie equals death. I do think it all traces back to that movie as I saw that as true amid a whole lot of lies. It may well be my ol' Dad and Frank Sinatra saved my life.
Call that exaggeration if you will but I don't believe it is.
There's also a wee bit of confounding information since my ol' Dad had a cat he called Benzedrine and he talked matter-of-factly about eating bennies during studies for his degrees which he got at young ages. This would have been in the early forties in New Zealand so it probably explains why there was little concern about bennies when there was a war in the world.
Years later at Crow's it was fashionable to eat a fistful of bennies and then drink all night. You will get a hangover which will make you beg for death but everything for the party, man.
Some lessons were clear and some were a bit confusing. Extremely few lessons were ever spoken out loud.
Cocaine was not characterized in Frankie's movie and I had no particular thought of it. The result was I nearly got myself into serious trouble with it more than once. Others in my family did as well. This fact leads me all the more to think of the importance of Frankie's movie, particularly in seeing it at such an early age. Kids can't handle such things? Bulllllshite.
Note: the only thing my parents were hugely insistent on censoring was "The Untouchables" as that one was just too violent, you kids can't watch that one.
There were some other anti-smack movies of this nature and "Joe" in the late sixties (I think) was another which was quite powerful but the one which was always most eloquent to me was the first with Sinatra.
Nah, I don't think crediting Sinatra and my ol' Dad is any kind of an exaggeration. It was genius on my ol' Dad's part because I don't recall him ever giving any grand pronouncements on heroin; he had never used it so what does he know. However, the scientist way gets him thinking, ok, let's get someone who does know and see what comes from that.
Apparently heroin sobriety comes from that. Evidence: the fifty to five-five years which have passed since seeing the movie with him which saw many, many other drugs enter my body but not that one.
Yah, ol' Dad, I sure as hell do remember that and thank you. WEBSTER was tiny after the things you did.
For the geekish among you, WEBSTER was written in Commodore BASIC and I used assembler subroutines for the parts which needed the speed. The system ran on a Commodore 64, one of the lowliest but still one of the coolest computers which ever existed. Later I rewrote the entire thing in assembler maybe just because I could. Unknown what motivated that upgrade.
The assembler was for the Motorola 6502 chip which gave three registers, two index registers and an accumulator. Those were all you had for every function your assembler routine you would perform and yet it was astounding how much could be done with them. I have seen many, many computers of all sizes in my life but I have never seen anything as fast as a Commodore 64 running an assembler program because it has absolutely nothing else to do. It's not multi-tasking, it's not even virtual.
One routine was written so it was dispatched in-between refreshes for the screen (i.e. at 1/60th of a second intervals). There's no possible way your eye is fast enough to detect changes made at that speed and the result is incredibly smooth, incredibly fast actions. The reason for writing something like that is in animation of sprites, etc. When you move something around the screen, you don't want it to jerk or surge, etc.
(Ed: bragging?)
Nah, fondly remembering. I have zero interest in writing code anymore but it's sometimes cool to think of what they did. Most programs just come and go but that one had personal significance in a huge way.
2 comments:
wonder what you would have accomplished if you werent blowing weed every day.
I know the weed made you better.
Looking back I see how my life was just a vast wasteland of one failure after the other and I didn't even make VP. What a loser, huh?
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