Dove

He was an incredibly great man, and it remains a privilege to have learned from him. While I left mathematics for engineering, his audacious asking of the right questions around the philosophical foundations of an endeavor remains a large influence on me and has become a hallmark of my engineering work. It makes me smile that you are familiar with him as well. :)

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Here's the full puzzle, as best I remember it:

Suppose you have two convex polygons with the following very specific relationship: one has been created from the other by making one side stretchy, moving an adjacent side on a hinge, and keeping the remaining sides fixed. For example, imagine a square with a top side made of rubber, and a rigid right side hinged at the lower right corner. You can make a series of convex polygons in a continuous fashion by rotating that right side on its hinge.

The question is, if you have two convex polygons that differ only by this one stretchy side and this adjacent hinged side, can you guarantee that you can always smoothly deform the one into the other by this hinging method while keeping the whole thing convex?

That is to say, if you are deforming one polygon into another by this hinge and rubber band method, if your starting polygon and ending polygon are both convex, are all the middle ploygons guaranteed to be?

The answer is intuitively obviously yes, but in point of fact, it is no.

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To bring this back to the original story, the question was a small step in a larger constructive proof he was working on. The overall result was already known - in fact, we had just discussed it in class - but the proof had this distressingly jerky, discrete movement to it, and he was hoping to construct a more pleasing and smooth algorithm as a more satisfying proof.

As for me, I would not have known how to begin to prove even the smaller question... but I sure could doodle a counterexample. ;) I therefore looked for a one with all the gusto of a young grad student hoping against all odds to do something helpful. You may look with all the confidence of knowing there is something to find, which is also a tremendous help.

I only know his side of the story because he started Monday's class with this line: "I spent the entire weekend trying to prove the result, without success, and it was a good thing too, as there was a counterexample in my box this morning." He did seem genuinely frustrated, but I also wouldn't have put it past him to have exaggerated that part for the laugh.

Anyway. Asking an AI to find counterexamples under such circumstances seems to me similarly reasonable to asking grad students. In my engineering work, I find there is a balance between using the AI to improve and augment your work (especially to call on the diverse perspectives in its training set), and using the AI to avoid your work. I do think the best experience and results are found in that balance. I would expect the same to be true in mathematics.

We were studying geometry - my adviser was the great Branko Grünbaum: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Branko_Gr%C3%BCnbaum

The conjecture had to do with whether one convex polygon could be continuously deformed into another while remaining convex, under certain conditions and constraints. The answer turns out to be no, but surprise and disappointment are understandable reactions to that outcome. It was indeed much more practical for a young grad student to look for a clever misbehaving polygon than to try to prove something about all of them at once.

This was back when the internet was mostly chain emails and personal web pages, being unreachable once you went home for the weekend was perfectly normal and expected, and automatically thinking the worst of people was not a common form of public performance art. ;)

When I was in grad school, I had the opportunity to take a course from my adviser in which he discussed his current research and some open questions. It was a relatively accessible subject area and the questions were sometimes easy enough that we could meaningfully contribute.

On one particular Friday afternoon, he stated a conjecture that he hoped was true, and invited us to try to help him prove or disprove it. It was the sort of thing that he really wanted to be true; he liked things smooth and beautiful. I, on the other hand, hoped it was false as I like the weird and exceptional in mathematics. It was also the case that I had absolutely no command of the sort of machinery that one would use to prove such a thing, but I could certainly look for a counterexample.

I learned on Monday that he had spent the entire weekend trying and failing to prove it. I, on the other hand, had put all my energy into finding a counterexample and had one within an hour.

My single (quite small) contribution to mathematical research was a counterexample because it was all I could do. The story does illustrate that it can be helpful to have people with different tools, hopes, and motivations working on a problem, though. I was not, and will never be, even a shadow of that great mathematiciam I studied under, but on that occasion, I had reason to look in a different direction than he did.

I think one of the most aggravating things about interacting with the health care system is losing control of cost/risk/reward tradeoffs. The mandatory transfer and ambulance ride in the linked story are an excellent example. I think I'd have walked out against medical advice in that circumstance, but there is the constant danger of being subjected to similar costs, both monetary and physical, when I am less conscious or at a serious informational disadvantage. The need to bring a patient advocate with you to the hospital whose role echoes both doctor and lawyer is becoming quite serious.

Air filters, decluttering, regular deep cleaning, replacing dust-friendly surfaces and furniture (such as carpet, drapes, and upholstered sofas) with things like wood, vinyl, or leather. HVAC maintenance, cleaning, and filters. Washable allergen covers for things like pillows and mattresses.

Let us imagine a Bug Bounty Bouncer Service.

The project does not accept bug bounty submissions without BBBS attestation. To get it, you must first submit your report to the BBBS for review.

Now, if this is your first submission (you are unknown to the BBBS), you must submit $50 to the BBBS along with the bug report, to pay a human to spend an hour looking at your work to verify it is written in good faith. This is not a review of whether the bug is real or valuable, just a readover to verify the report is coherent and plausible. If you have done this before, you can get a free attestation based on being a member in good standing, but submitting slop (per the judgement of the BBBS reviewer or the project receiving the report) is an account ban.

The BBBS couldn't steal your work and submit it themselves if they gave you some sort of signed hash as a receipt, which as a side effect would also be a deterrant against bounty programs stealing your work.

Submissions would only be expensive per submission for an anonymous user, enabling the low friction high trust communication under which collaboration works best when reputation has been established.

The BBBS itself won't be overrun by slop since the price of establishing an account far exceeds what a bot might expect to make with a single malicious submission. Nor can legitimate established accounts be sold since the cost of creating them exceeds the value to be expected from abusing them. Moreover, the cost to establish a reputation as a bug bounty hunter is small in dollars compared to the cost in time and expertise that a legitimate hunter would be expected to expend in the course of their work.

The vast majority of slop would go away as the cost of a first submission is much too high. The cost to the project is close to nothing - integrating with the BBBS attestation API. The cost to a legitimate bug bounty hunter is low - some human review while establishing a reputation, which could even be made useful if it came in the form of feedback. All review is paid for by the submitter, so no one is trying to counter infinite slop with volunteer hours.

Moreover, the BBBS can serve as a mediator of trust, not only against AI, but as a place to receive reputational merit for high value work and trustworthy bug bounty programs.

I realize I am describing a lightweight guild, which is subject to well known political failure modes (the most significant of which is exploiting newcomers), but the concept has the advantage that guilds have functioned as successful slop gatekeepers in society for a very long time and a lot is known about how to make them work.

By the way, this paints a very dark picture. I keenly mourn the world I feel slipping away, but there are bright spots and people who fight the good fight, and the occasional blessed and beautiful creation and the odd victory. I don't mean to imply these things are pointless or hopeless - on the contrary. People who do that are the reason we have any good things at all. Thank you.

It is not an us vs. them sort of thing. Don't get me wrong, there are wicked people doing awful things, but I breathe the same air everyone else does. I remember building things 20 years ago with breathless excitement about how it might make the world a better place, and these days I am much quicker to think about how to monetize. Asking a fair price for something isn't evil, but none of us is an island and I don't like how my dreams have changed. I write these things in part to teach myself.

We are a generation of tyrants, each oppressing the others in his own little domain. Gone is the dream of making a modest living while enriching humanity with offerings of technology. Whatever is invented now is gated, rented, and exploited for power, in the shadows and in the open, and what technological power had been granted to the people is whittled away year by year, immense riches destroyed so someone in particular can extract something from a replacement.

There is no Caesar to assassinate because it is everyone, or near enough. It is the idea that this is how you do things. Tyranny is in the air and in the water, that exploitation of power for more power by means of misery, old as mankind.

In such a world, removing one tyrant only gets you ruled by his rival, who is often worse. The historical recipe for freedom and abundance is a people who, as a whole people, are generous with power and expect it of each other at every level, and are viciously intolerant of its abuse. Such was the world of technology for about five decades in the last century, but it hasn't been so for the last two or three. I think it doesn't take much for a few awful people to eat up any abundance, if they are allowed to, and that war is written across the history of computing from its very beginning. But these days, it is not a healthy society defending itself from would-be conquerers, but a world of feuding warlords anxious to eat up any excess anywhere, not only for profit but because thriving and independent people are inherently a threat. With few exceptions, and it seems like fewer every year, any kingdom now which consists of a group of people and some code, be it a software service, a phone, a game, a car, or a dang toaster oven, looks like a despot extracting taxes from his peasants, not a king sheparding his people. Certainly the big ones are that way, and the legacy of the last generation continues to be eroded.

Whatever the means, that tangle of the legal and economic and social and educational and technological and cultural, and I do not pretend it is anything but a thorny and incomprehensible thicket, Aristotle's identification of the broad themes remains relevant. Divided, humiliated, disempowered - whatever the pretext, the encroachment of dark forces is unmistakable. The only defense is (and ever was) those who see their work as in some sense sacred and power as conveying a duty to serve. The generation for whom Superman is a central myth builds one way; the generation for whom it is Game of Thrones builds very differently. Not that these stories are necessarily causes, but their resonance is a reflection of how two very different groups of people think about power.

This is tyranny: making people powerless, afraid of each other, and submissive, per Aristotle's understanding.[1] The technological means are new, to be sure, but the social strategy is as old as civilization.

Mark my words. General purpose computing and private, direct communication are things too powerful for a tyrant to permit the people to have. The freedom we've enjoyed for the last several decades, to build what we want, to run what we want, to network with who we want, is not the default and will always be under attack. We had it for a little while by the generosity of the previous generation. It was not then, and is not now, and never will be free.

[1] https://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=Perseus:text:1...

The obvious thing to me is to ask the AI to notice obviously offensive submissions and transform them along absurdist lines, such that "I-hate-girls" becomes the familiar Wikipedia redirection page saying something like "Archaic expression. See: Eight Grills". Store the redirect, but only index the sanitized page.

"Every time I sat down to play [the game] it was like walking into a dark shed full of rakes, treading on one, and getting blatted in the face... and then I'd go back into the shed, thinking maybe it was just the one rake, when blat in the face again. So I thought, I'll just keep tanking the rakes and maybe I'll become psychotically in love with being rake-faced. And that's kind of what happened."

Yahtzee was talking about Dark Souls, but it applies. (Vigorously NSFW, https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=STrYyhEwkbY )

That said, I think Nethack is best experienced with liberal and unapologetic spoiler use.

Some of my best work has been done as a labor of love. I do have the vague impression that we as a society have taken a wrong turn in selling the sacred. I am not in favor of collapsing society down to hippie communes or anything, but it does seem to me that we told better stories back when stories were freer.

I sometimes imagine gathering up some number of like-minded electrical and software engineers, and founding some sort of monastary in which everyone was fed and taken care of and built the best technology they could, as a gift to humanity. I do wonder if the day's robber barons would find a way to shut us down, of course, but I still remember a bright and optimistic time when technology was made to serve people, not to oppress them, and it seems to me like a bright expression of human spirit that oughtn't to have been sold.

make unique swallowing monsters (Juiblex) resist magical digging from inside

Oh noooooooooo... yeah that's fair.

Lots of overdue gameplay changes here, really. I was something of an expert player 20 years ago, my best ascenscion being Atheist/Genoless/Wishless with no pet to boot. It seems a lot has changed. I see fixes on this list for things that bothered me then. :)

Every few years, I think Yahoo's old attempt to have real people build a phone directory of the web wasn't such a bad idea. And I occasionally wish Google still worked by seeing what other people thought was a worthy web page on a topic. My algorithm for finding worthwhile content is similar: I try to visit the community of interest and see what they like. There is no substitute for the human element in evaluating quality.

Interestingly, tragically, YouTube seems to have gotten the message that I like long form informational videos, and serves me ones with intriguing titles that are clearly written, illustrated, and read by AI. I seem to be training it to deceive me, which is not a good thing. In fact, I had trained it so well to push my psychological buttons that I recently had to leave entirely, which is surely not what anyone wants.

Some critical differences between the situations that come to mind:

- The problem of counterfeit currency is well acknowledged and has roots in antiquity. Reasonable people agree that currency genuinely cannot do its only job if counterfeiting is possible, and have had that agreement for thousands of years. In addition, the sole right to print currency is given to the US government in its constitution (almost certainly for this reason). These two things grant government control over printing currency both a moral and a legal legitimacy that government control over printing gun parts doesn't have.

- Because the government has control over the design of legitimate currency, it is actually practical to prevent software from reproducing it. See: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/EURion_constellation . Gun parts have no such distinguishing characteristic, and cannot be made to have one, since there is no authoritative body responsible for all of them. Having such a marking could be made legally mandatory, but it is not actually required for the function of the part, whereas currency needs to match the authentic design in order to be useful. It is therefore much less practical and effective to mark gun parts to prevent replication than it is to similarly mark currency.

- Creating your own guns specifically (and weapons, generally) is widely seen as a natural or God-given right. I would go so far as to say that it is intrinsically human, and that losing access to it would be as painful to some as losing access to rock 'n roll. I would say that due to this pain, losing that right is one of the chief signs of an enslaved people. While not everyone would agree with me, many would, which gives the issue a divisive moral edge. By contrast, creating your own currency might be seen as some sort of natural right by some people, but creating your own US Dollars certainly is not seen that way by anybody. Well, I'm sure you could find someone, but you know what I mean.

- As far as I know, there is no law compelling printer/photocopier manufacturers to use anti-counterfeiting software, and compliance is voluntary (but apparently pretty widespread -- though I doubt it's universal). A similar voluntary setup with 3D printer manufacturers would be less objectionable (though also much less likely to succeed). Introducing any sort of mandatory compliance regime introduces friction, slows innovation, and invites corruption.

- Manufacturing gun parts is actually pretty easy, and could be accomplished via many methods accessible to hobbyists, ranging from whittling by hand to duct taping hardware together to lost wax casting to desktop CNC to a desktop injection molding setup to metalworking on a lathe in a garage machine shop. It is in no way limited to 3D printing, though that admittedly lowers the bar a bit. Learning to work on guns is not significantly harder than learning to work on cars, though perhaps fewer people know how to do it. Thus, a focus on 3D printing seems much more driven by sensationalism, paranoia, and ignorance of this fact than it is by practical assessment of the issue. By contrast, creating even minimally recognizable counterfeit currency without the assistance of a computer is practically impossible and certainly cost-prohibitive. In manufacturing gun parts, it is perfectly practical in some cases to do the equivalent of drawing a dollar bill with a crayon -- something much less successful in the counterfeiting world.

- Adding broad pattern-recognition controls to a 3d printer is a novel and difficult problem that will likely impact innocent people doing legal things. Preventing the printing of accurate-looking currency has a much more narrow impact, and is much more focused on people doing illegal-adjacent things.

Without meaning any malice toward your question, I mention that I write because you have stepped on one of my pet peeves: it seems to me that an inability to see the difference between things that are, in fact, different, is one of the major failure modes of modern society in general. We need an appreciation for texture and nuance if we are to navigate the world rightly.

I once became so famous that a community of several hundred people knew and recognized my name for a few years. At the time, it was very ego-flattering, and I was delighted to have done something that had such a big and positive impact. However, as an experience it really did not agree with me, and even this very minor level of fame has left me resolved to never, ever, ever become that famous again if I can help it.

I don't think I am unique in that. In fact, I perceive that it is very normal for public figures, not merely to fade from public attention, but to actively seek out seclusion.

While I'm not Satoshi, I would put the odds of someone in such a position of maintaining radio silence far from "zero chance". I would put it more around 70 or 80 percent. And at any rate, it is certainly what I would do.

I agree that there is a parallel between governments and corporations multiplying surveillance and preppers impractically multiplying gadgets. I perceive both to be responding to some sort of psychological issue relating to control or insecurity, not to be practically pursuing resilience.

A government with aggressive surveillance ambitions but a decaying police department and justice system looks to me very much like the guy with a mountain of guns and ammo but no parallel investment in something like battlefield medicine. Whatever you're telling yourself about the reason for what you're doing, it is manifestly not correct, at least going by other investments I would expect to see and find neglected.

That was my first thought, too. I and a couple of my kids have great affection for Minecraft. However, I don't think that affection really matches the absolute foaming-at-the-mouth excitement we felt for Descent.

I don't think it's that video games have gotten worse (though perhaps they have). I think it's more that it's impossible to recreate the way they impacted us back then. It wasn't just about the games, but also about the times. DOOM today is a fine game and even a classic, but back then it was the first time anyone had ever seen anything like it and we were inventing online play and fps tactics and amateur map design in real time. Descent had that same blockbuster feel, but that for me that feeling faded from new releases over the next few years. (Though I won't deny Minecraft caught something of that old bombshell energy.)

I suspect the way I feel about the video games I grew up with is a feeling my kids will never exactly have. Sure, they love their games, but the 90s were an incredible time for the art form. By analogy, I love the music I grew up with, but I don't feel about it the way my parents feel about the music from the 60's. Music is always special, but that was a particularly special time for music and if you weren't there, you weren't there. In time the absolute electricity of the British Invasion became "So what kind of music do you listen to?" So I think it will go with games.

Everspace is good too!

Impressively faithful, right down to weapons functioning incorrectly at a high framerate!

I will always love Star Wars for the 15 minutes of Return of the Jedi that make the point that, with all of magic and technology at your disposal, love is still the strongest weapon in the universe. The rest of Star Wars (and all of Star Trek) is comparative fluff.

B5 spends most of the series saying that sort of thing.

They are sort of incomparable, being very different shows. That said, I am myself someone who grew up with TNG, who was molded by TNG and shaped by TNG, and for whom TNG is the only good Star Trek... and I like B5 better. For me, TNG is entertainment and B5 is literature. To illustrate the difference, I will point out that TNG occasionally (rarely!) deals with death, and it usually does so by minimizing and mourning it, essentially averting the topic. Entertainment does not linger over the uncomfortable. (I am painting with a broad brush here -- I'm aware TNG sometimes does. Just not a lot.) B5, by contrast, returns again and again for full episodes to the topic of the soul-rackingly difficult moral requirement to offer comfort and face the inevitable tragedy together, and the agony of the experience and the ways it changes you.

As much as I love both shows, I wouldn't really recommend B5 to someone based on a love of TNG. I think it is more natural to recommend B5 to someone based on a minimial affinity for sci fi and a liking for Lord of the Rings, which will really tell you how different the two shows are.

TNG is wonderfully idealistic. It paints a picture of rising above your vices and being professional, civilized, and decent. It teaches you to work the problem, to examine the data, to think and consult and reflect and do better. I think it unrealistic -- I thought it unrealistic when I first encountered it -- but that doesn't matter. It's such a worthy ideal that it is worth encountering and remembering over and over again. As you go through life, you should remember that that is an option and strive for it.

B5 is wonderfully heroic. It is about dealing with a world of moral complexity and uncertainty, about trying to do good even when it is futile, about being a hero in the face of danger and risk and doubt. About how politics makes that difficult and keeps it in check and at any rate isn't a game you can check out of because it is the game.

Both shows encounter awful authoritarianism. One examines the law and philosophy in detail and gives a stirring verbal rebuke that carries the day. One starts a rebellion without certainty that it will be right or effective, but because under the circumstances, a good man feels compelled to do so. I think these are both extremely valuable takes on the topic, and I wouldn't want to have not seen either one. But I do have to say that at the end of the day, it is the second one I think of more as I go through life. For me the greater life lesson is not in taking the time to seek deeper wisdom, worthy as that is, but in having the bravery and faith to face danger, uncertainty, and tragedy.

We quote Babylon 5 on an approximately daily basis in this house. Definitely my favorite sci fi series. Well, that and Firefly. B5 won not one, but two Hugos, which were highly deserved.

Whenever I get the itch to watch the whole thing again but I don't want to spend the time, I watch this (which is so thick with spoilers that you shouldn't watch it unless you've seen the series so many times that the Vorlons make sense now). https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mHpMAubwfQg

In the 1950s, and perhaps to some degree in the 1990s, it seemed possible to believe technology was limitless and miraculous and conducive to human thriving. As a result, breathlessly hopeful and exciting stories about the wonders of the future made sense.

It is hard to feel that way in the 2020s. Technology seems oversold, scammish, dystopian, inhuman. Everything is slop and skinner boxes. It impoverishes rather than enriches, and it seems to be getting worse. It is easy to feel that the Amish, nay perhaps even the medievals, have a point.

Worse, the science fiction oriented around starships took its cues from our experience of the naval - journeys of days or weeks would take you to alien places teeming with new and interesting and enriching life. Foods you couldn't eat anywhere else. People you couldn't meet at home. But now the globe seems smaller, explored, and conquered. Those faraway goods are easily shipped to your door, and those faraway people show up in your comments section and they're just people. The excitement of the seas is no longer such a part of our outlook that reskinning it in fantasy speaks to us.

Not only is the excitement of the seas greatly diminished, the more we have learned about the universe, the worse the naval analogy seems. The distant stars no longer seem like tropical islands, but rather hopelessly distant and inhospitable. In 1958, Heinlein wrote a wonderful short story about scout troops in the verdant jungles of Venus back when that was a reasonable expectation[1], but it seems like a silly thing to write now. https://xkcd.com/2202/ seems to capture the current expectation well.

Several decades ago it was easy to get excited about the march of scientific discovery and technological progress. But now we're asking why science seems to have slowed down so much, and new technology seems about as exciting as new mechanisms for dependence and dystopia.

Atheism is weakening and religion is rising.

The imagined global society of the UN that was reimagined at a larger scale as The Federation may have seemed like the way of the future for a few decades, but now that dream looks foolish and the globe is visibly fracturing.

The classic science fiction trope that progress will better us as people, that leisure will lead to fitness, that access to information will make us wise scholars, that we will use the convenience of machines to free ourselves for the pursuit of virtue... it makes for an inspiring story. I had my suspicions about how true all of that was back before the internet. I am now very sure that Wall-E and Idiocracy are nearer to the mark.

The human-like AIs of Star Wars' robots or Star Trek's androids or innumerable superintelligent computers from Asimov to Heinlein seem further away every year. AI is part of everyday life now, and our major concern is how to keep it from catastrophically failing at mundane research, not whether it should have voting rights or makes humans obsolete. Ambulatory human-like AI seems unlikely when data centers the size of small cities struggle with emdashes. The hope and promise of a generation of robot children and citizens seems as misguided as the forests of Venus.

I could go on. We GOT a lot of the wonders science fiction predicted, or things so much more powerful that our most audacious futurists didn't dare to imagine them. And yet it doesn't feel like the promised land. Science fiction promised instant video conferences across the globe, but when we got it, it didn't look like all the world's best researchers collaborating on its hardest problems. It looked like all of the miscreants with their dick pics and the dreary business meetings and school lessons suddenly having access to your home. I don't mean to imply it's all bad, but the difference between imagination and reality has been stark on many fronts.

I really think the truth is that in a thousand ways, the tropes of the genre no longer speak to the moment.

[1] https://writingatlas.com/story/3984/robert-a-heinlein-a-tend...

In many contexts in which I am trying to deconflict namespaces, I use my initials. I hadn't thought about it in this particular context, though now that I do, it seems fortunate that I am ced rather than sed.

Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter.

I miss perl. I encountered it in school, in 1998, and fell head over heels in love. Used it professionally a lot longer than was probably justified, given the mores and availability of programmers. The Camel Book set my formative opinions on what software should be like, and I'll surely be a perl programmer at heart forever.

I gave it up in 2020, perceiving that python had won. It was a sad day - working in python feels like typing while missing three fingers. I go to reach for an idiom and not only is it not there, I'm told the phantom limb syndrome is for everyone's good, including mine.

I've never found the code of skilled perl programmers difficult to read. I think bad programmers will always write code that is difficult to work with, even in languages that are supposed to prevent it. The most miserable time I ever had understanding someone else's code came at the hands of a brilliant, overly clever, somewhat inexperienced python hacker. I will admit, though, that this feat of confusion required a prodigy, whereas perl makes it quite easy to shoot everyone in a thirty yard radius in the foot. Just the same, I've always thought the messiness of perl was a myth, a result of misuse, abuse, and inexperience. Well written perl conveys much at a glance where in visually cleaner languages, all shapes have the same outline.

But it's also true that by the time I gave it up, I was already looking for a replacement. The language is bold and beautiful and opinionated, and in the fullness of time, some of those opinions proved to be wrong. The world moved forward and perl didn't, and I found myself wanting to do things with objects, and types, and tooling, and functions, and exceptions, that it just didn't do, or didn't do well. Some languages, like PHP and javascript, grew beyond their humble beginnings and bolted on the rigorous and increasingly mandatory machinery of the modern world. Perl didn't.

So my leaving had two big factors: the language didn't grow up, and people didn't want to read my code.

I'm still looking for a replacement. The serious contenders seem to be Go and Ruby, both of which I really like a lot. I dabble in Haskell and Lisp looking for pieces of what I've lost. I have negotiated an uneasy ceasefire with python and javascript out of professional obligation. We can work together, though admittedly neither one of us is entirely happy about it.

Perl was a beautiful thing, a thing I appreciated like art and poetry. I'm glad to have been there for the years in which it flourished. But I also think the world has passed it by. Even looking past hacked in features, it had a more fundamental problem. The tug of war between standardization and expression is like the one between society and the individual. Neither side should ever really win, but perl favored expression more than we now think is wise. We didn't know it then. And the feeling was glorious. But in the decades since, we all - myself included - have decided the balance between those things is ... well we don't know exactly where it is, but we do know it involves less individual freedom than that. The language made a lot of gambles that turned out wrong, but that's the big one.

I think lisp fell prey to that, too, by the way. So formless and expressive that by the time you got done writing your software, you'd essentially invented a language specific to it. Great, in the narrow scope of your project, language and domain fitting hand in glove. Not awesome if you need to hire help. Ads for people who speak Emacs Lisp or Autocad Lisp are telling. You can invent the most beautiful language in the world, but the fact that only three people speak it is surely a strong point against it.

Perl is and was a beautiful thing. I miss it. I seek out its children when I can. I write jokes and references and eulogies where I can, tucking little utility functions stolen from perl into languages where they don't belong, places that never touched that unix heritage. Perl is humble enough to give you the space to do things your way, rather than its way, giving you permission to break all the rules and requesting that you use the freedom with wisdon and goodness and politeness. That sort of bold faith and generosity sparks in me a fierce love. I haven't found it anywhere else. I doubt I will, because as wonderful as it is, it's since been considered unwise. Programming is a social endeavor, and while a specialist language like GLSL can thrive in a little niche, a glue language spoken by only a few people isn't a glue language at all - it's another arcane system that needs to be glued. No, python won. Perhaps it even deserved to.

So for me, perl is dead... but also long live perl.

To be sure, I agree that wild animals, even small ones, should be treated with respect and given space. I did not mean to imply that humans should go around picking fights with geese. Anything can happen in a fight, and I certainly agree with you that fighting a goose without a compelling reason would be imprudent. And at any rate, it would be unkind. You can be stronger than something without mistreating it. I don't mean my assessment of the danger humans and geese pose to each other as a sort of challenge -- it's just what I frankly think on the topic. Either way, of course we should respect and be kind to geese.

Where we stand on the respective odds of different humans versus different geese in different arenas, it's actually orthogonal to my original point -- that different groups of geese vary in their courage around humans, and that there are extreme outliers who are doing a lot more than "cutting it close" -- they're betting the humans will give them space. Or perhaps I saw something rare and was simply channelling Snow White that day. ;)

The more general point is that animal behavior need not always be thought of as the solution to an optimization problem. Whether you believe that's true or not in an ultimate sense, in an immediate sense, it is obvious that their personalities and experience come into play too, and that sometimes they make bad decisions.

Oh, I don't know. They seem like a lot more "honk" than "bonk". ;)

I get that they have a lot of aggression and deterrence going for them. But in a fight between a goose and a human, the human is mostly risking bites and bruises while the goose is risking death.

I put them in a similar category of threat as scorpions. Of course I don't want to fight -- getting hurt is inconvenient. But if we do fight, I'm not really concerned about which of us is going to win.

Sure, humans should worry about crazy geese. Geese have a lot more reason to worry about crazy humans!