Bored young men turn to violence

February 27, 2009 under thehumancondition

Whenever a bored ten year old boy picks up a twig, he’s going to break it in two. He might stick it in his ear first, or push around some ants, beetles or worms with it, but when he’s done, he’s going to snap it. That twig has a limited life expectancy.

Ok,ok, he might just discard it.  The point is, there’s a tendancy towards chaos. If he throws it away, you can be quite sure it’s not in an orderly fashion.

Any mother of small boys will be able to tell you that they have a strong tendency towards chaos. That’s why they like to play with knives. Anything that they can chop, destroy, break or otherwise reduce to small pieces is an escape from boredom.

So what happens when bored little boys grow up?

If you try and solve the problems of the Middle East politically, you will fail, because the problems are not political. They’re people problems.

I’m a young man. If you take my self respect, my purpose and my job while killing my neighbors, what do you think I’ll do when someone comes along and offers a way to restore those?

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Avoidance

February 26, 2009 under wholenessinreallife

One of the things that I am learning in prayer ministry is that, for everything that we do,  there is a reason. Often it’s not, objectively speaking, a very good reason. From a practical point of view, however, the only thing that matters is that it makes sense to us when we make our decision about how to act. When faced with unknown, unexpected, overwhelming or terrifying things, we cope the best we can, doing the thing that seems best in the moment.

Often this reason is centred around avoiding things we don’t like. However, it’s rare that we’re ever aware enough to be honest about this, and it’s somewhat shocking when you run across it in clear text.

From Dave Winer ,

“I’ve learned if I say nothing that gets me the least angst. So that’s what I usually do, say nothing. And every time I do it, my blood pressure goes up a teeny bit, and another hair either falls out or goes gray. Or maybe it goes gray and then falls out.”

Dave probably wouldn’t tie this to issues of personal brokenness, but it’s a remarkably clear example of how we struggle with things in unspectacular fashion, on a depressingly ongoing basis.

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Holidays

February 26, 2009 under tongueincheek

Are region specific.

In Edmonton, for example, we think about Groundhog day, and laugh.

Or maybe it’s just that I’m as bitter as the cold outside :-(

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Facebook TOS Revisited

February 22, 2009 under metablogging

I’m cross-posting my comment on Dare Obasanjo’s blog. It’s somewhat repetitive, but it says nicely what I think. What the heck, bits are cheap – I’ll keep it around.

But first, here’s an odd thing – I’m a little nervous whenever I post on the blog/website of a highly respected person.

Half of it is that it’s highly visible. As a blogger, the greatest thing in the world is when you post something insightful in a high traffic place, and that people read it and say – “What an interesting thought! I think I’ll follow the link attached to his name and see what else he has to say.” [Hi Dare! :-) ] This is called “joining the conversation,” but when it happens in a rigid meritocracy (such as the web), there are risks.

The Happy Moron has, for every person, *one* first impression. I’d estimate that 90+% of visitors will come only once. They’ll glance at the front page, and unless it blows them away… they’ll never come back. (Actually, the vast majority of blog and website traffic comes not from links but from Google hits on specific articles – and from there people may decide to visit, or not to visit, the main page) If I’m baiting a hook for readership that I care about, I want to make sure my house is tidy before I bring the guests in.

Tied to the visibility is that if I say something stupid, I’ve done so in a highly visible place. Oops.

The other half is that if you post rubbish in a place where smart,  influential people visit, you will drive them away. Watch Giles Bowkett rant. If I want to observe world-class engineers and software people, I need, to some degree, to be a fly on the wall. It takes effort to track smart people to their lairs and eavesdrop. It’s easy to find the popular places that everybody links to. It’s much harder to filter through the long tail and find the quiet places where people hold reasoned, polite, informed conversations.

For people who just like to talk about stuff, being consumed by their own popularity is a burden – a curse, not a blessing.

Anyway, the comment:

“For me, the most interesting wrinkle is that people’s expectations of ownership vary greatly according to the kind of content discussed – exactly as Andrew describes.

Is papering over a complex reality with a simple, blanket license really the answer? For every complex problem, there is a simple solution, and it is wrong. Copy-on-post for Messages? Sure! Don’t do it with my Notes or photos.

I understand Mark’s desire to run his platform and not get sued, but Mark… Do you really need the right to sub-license my Notes and pictures? The right to publicly perform the contents of my message?

Even on a web where I can’t guarantee deletion of anything, the principle of least privilege applies.

I would be comforted, however, if instead of simply claiming “We need these privileges because it’s complicated,” Facebook would come up with a TOS that actually reflected that and gave me some confidence that they cared about my privacy.
The reality is that Facebook will probably thrive with any TOS, merely due to public apathy.”

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Little and Big

February 20, 2009 under thehumancondition, theology

“Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things, I will put you in charge of many things.”

God shows every indication that he understands the concept of a learning curve.

I love to listen in on bus conversations. Canadian public transit is a forboding, stifling experience. People who are undaunted and speak aloud on the bus, therefore are generally frank and honest. On this ride, the ladies were discussing youth behaviour both good and shameful.

I was struck by how small in size the instances of behaviour were. They were not Stalin sized or Madoff sized. Quite the opposite: they hardly affected anyone. Just little tiny instances, with little tiny consequences, tiny feedback to shape the course of a learning life.

Tiny incidents, with massive significance. The lessons learned (Was running away the right thing to do? Was honesty rewarded?) will tip the really crucial decisions the kids will have to make later in life. That they failed in the one instance is not even so important. What is important, I think, is what happens afterwards. That lies with the parents, not the youth.

In my own life, I fail all the time. Before God. At my job. In the face of my own expectations. With my friends.

The right to fail is precious – it’s the right to bear the consequence of our actions, the right to learn. Failure is not to be embraced or glorified, but the right to fail is important. It’s part of our free will – it’s why God does not wrench decisions from our hands and blatantly override our misguided notions.

If the right to fail is precious, then so is the opportunity to approach a small thing before a big thing. Failure in the big thing can kill us.

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Sometimes its okay if people don’t like you

February 19, 2009 under Uncategorized

And naming your documentation

Sun Java System Application Server Platform Edition 9 Developer’s Guide

is a good way to start.

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Sad but true.

February 19, 2009 under Uncategorized

Sending nasty e-mails is a useful life skill.

It’s important to separate the intent of being nasty from the knowledge that what you say will be received as nasty.

Sometimes, overcoming the fear of being nasty is the nicest possible thing you can do for someone else.

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A Temporary Retraction

February 18, 2009 under metablogging

Gee, that didn’t take long.

Facebook have reverted their terms of service changes (temporarily, mind) while they try to draft a version that doesn’t make them sound like Big Brother.

The BBC has a reasonable summary.

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Writing

February 18, 2009 under metablogging

Part of the reason I started this blog was to learn how to write. Arguably I already know how to write, but not all writing is writing.

Wait, that doesn’t make sense. But it does. If not all writing is writing, then what is writing?

I feel like a very small child, like my year-old niece. I want something, I want it badly. want Want WANT! must have! But the words aren’t there. My mental picture is there; I know exactly what it is I want. But the words aren’t there, just squeals and grunts and shrieks.

And so, like any small child, I must wait for an adult to come along and teach me the words I need. In this case, it is Earl Pomerantz , a comedy writer, answering the question of when he first knew that he was a writer, telling the story of sitting down to write a letter.

“It was just what it was: Exactly the letter I’d intended to write.”

Maybe I’ve missed more than I care to admit in life by not having the words when I needed them. So please be patient with me as I stumble through haikus and random story snippets, and litter the Happy Moron with literary detritus.

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A curious fellow

February 18, 2009 under curios

When he recited limericks, his chin waggled.

When he drank milk, his nostrils flared.

When he smiled, his two front teeth showed very large. He suffered from osteohippopotimis, he claimed.

To watch him write, you would say there was revelry in poetry.
To watch him drink; poetry in revelry.

I first met him in a park, where he was strewing roses on a path. “For the young couples who walk past,” he explained.
“Yes, but why are they made out of concrete?” I asked.
“So their petals don’t fall off.”
“Oh.” I said… “I see.”
He looked at me severely. “An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.”
I looked back. “Those look like they can’t possibly be less than 4.6oz”
We were silent, looking at each other for a long, long time.
“4.6 pounds.” he said.

The last time I saw him he was wearing fatigues and leaving for Afghanistan.
“I’m going to gather poppies for my Sunday suit.” He flashed his tusky grin.

The next day, I wondered if I should worry about him.
“No,” I thought, “He’ll be all right.”

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