In 2015, cryptocurrencies will stop being viewed as having “one bad year” — and start being viewed for what they are: modern-day Beanie Babies for ultra-libertarian math nerds. It’s stunning to me how many otherwise intelligent people fell for cryptocurrency, having forgotten (or failed to understand in the first place) what a currency actually is: a medium for exchange and a store of value. As such, currencies that experience acute inflation or (worse) acute deflation tautologically fail. We actually have a lot of (willfully ignored) macroeconomic history that tells us this; central banking was only invented after we had had disastrous experiences with every other way of managing currency (viz. the Panic of 1837). And this isn’t just like, my opinion, man: no one purchasing or selling goods is going to opt into a currency that introduces volatility risk in an orthogonal (and often low margin) commercial transaction. (Indeed, in the you-can’t-make-this-up department, Bitcoin has become too volatile to be reliably used for ransom.) Of course, proponents are now saying that “the value isn’t in the currency but in the blockchain application stack” — which is like saying the value of Beanie Babies is in their soft and cuddly nature: yes the value of Punchers the Lobster is non-zero, but it doesn’t mean that it’s actually worth 2,600 clams.
That people keep discovering crazy ways to do new things in C++ (that were previously considered impossible) is both amazing and horrible.
It follows that functional programming has little to do with functional notation. It is a trivial and pointless task to rearrange some piece of symbolism into prefixed operators and heavy bracketing.
There are chunks of thirty minutes when the baby is sleeping, that are the new “productivity zones” for me. Since I was introducing my mom to ArtRage1, I decided to try it out myself. One of the nifty features is the ability to import a photo and create a new layer with variable opacity, which can then be used as a template for a layer on top of it. I used the watercolor brush and made the following:
The original image is on the left, and the watercolor (with some contrast and exposure adjustments) is on the right. For someone who cannot draw what he sees, this has a huge amplifying effect.
Of all the lessons I’ve learned, there is one that can summarize them all in 3 simple words: everything is terrible. This text is an attempt to recount some of the hard-earned lessons I have ended up learning, sometimes indirectly, but often personally. Everything is terrible, but our job still is to build something solid and usable on top of that everything. What we build adds to that ‘everything’, makes it bigger, more terrible.
Existing systems come with all sorts of terrors; each time I touch something, I cause subtle ripples that disrupt the careful balance of all the elements holding it together. Each bug fixed opens the door to a bigger one, hidden deeper, and more violent.
Writing new systems comes with an inescapable feeling of dread. I can imagine everything failing before it has been written, and feel sorry for the person who’ll maintain it—possibly me.
… our industry, the global programming community, is fashion-driven to a degree that would embarrass haute couture designers from New York to Paris … Fashion dictates the programming languages people study in school, the languages employers hire for, the languages that get to be in books on shelves. A naive outsider might wonder if the quality of a language matters a little, just a teeny bit at least, but in the real world fashion trumps all.
Another lesson we should have learned from the recent past is that the development of ‘richer’ or ‘more powerful’ programming languages was a mistake in the sense that these baroque monstrosities, these conglomerations of idiosyncrasies, are really unmanageable, both mechanically and mentally. I see a great future for very systematic and very modest programming languages.
Einstein argued that there must be simplified explanations of nature,
because God is not capricious or arbitrary. No such faith comforts the
Math, you might say, is a conspiracy theorist’s dream: it’s the one part of life where, when you see things match up, the odds are excellent that it’s not just a coincidence, that there is a deep explanation waiting to be unearthed.