rave reviews

If any readers are anywhere near Manchester tonight, they should rush off to Ratdog. I had no very high hopes of them last night, but they were lovely: slick, imaginative, and interested in their work. They played a set consisting of about half the stuff that people wanted to hear (pre-1976 Dead tunes, preferably not sung by Weir originally) and half newer and very pleasant material. Sax, keyboards, lead guitar, all thoughtful and making space for each other. Very fine rhythm section. Mr Weir, in a full beard and yet fuller moustache, looking extremely bizarre, “like a crazed Victorian Ghillie”, said John Gillow, who popped up in the seat next to us. Well, yes, except that crazed Victorian ghillies aren’t usually wearing sawn-off denim short, and don’t have the melancholy glittering eyes of a beagle that’s spent its whole life smoking the wrong cigarettes. Quite without ego, though: his guitar was mixed right down and there were no special spots on him or anything. One of the nicest, friendliest, and most fun concerts I have ever seen, and about as different in atmosphere from a modern Dead show as you could imagine — except, of course, that almost all the audience were Deadheads.

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a long strange trip

The first time I saw Bob Weir play was around 29 years ago, at the Alexandra Palace, though I was, God knows, in no condition to trust the evidence of my eyes at the time or for about eight hours afterwards. And in about an hour, I’m off with my daughter to see him again, in Milton Keynes, in a place so small that row 8 is the back row. We shall be Very Good. I hope that he is too.

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a glimpse of the future

If you want to know where the debate on altruism, group seleciton, and sociobiology is going for the next decasdee, these papers would be a good place to start.

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The, like, great chain of being

If you can understand this, it’s too late to save you.

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Righteous preaching

Things my friend the vicar would say if he had only thought of them: “You cannot wave your unread bible and scare me. I know its larger story and I will tear you a new biblical asshole.”

From the rather wonderful Real Live Preacher.

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richer than anyone in history

One of the minor wonders of the Empire is that a rich man in America can not only muy more things than the richest men of the past could dream of; he can buy servants that were once the prerogative of an Emperor. Snoop Doggy Dog is a medium-successful rap star, with scarcely more than $100m to his name, but he has a personal Archbishop, just like the Queen of England:
Snoop turns away in disgust, passing the blunt to his ‘spiritual advisor,’ Archbishop Don ‘Magic’ Juan. Juan, sipping from a bejeweled goblet and wearing a white suit with a dollar-bill pattern, is a former pimp who earned ordination. Decked out as Dolemite, he’s the rapper’s unofficial mascot. ‘Snoop is calmer now, baby,’ Juan shouts at me above the din, waving smoke from my eyes with a gold-encrusted hand. ‘Millions have seen it. They saw it at the Playboy mansion, when we visited there together. His family life has improved, and he’s reaching a spiritual level that he couldn’t reach before because his brain was clogged up with weed and alcohol. That’s why his career is taking off the way it is, why he’s touring with those — what’s their name? — Hot Chili Peppers, and with 50 Cent.’
Between inhales, Juan is still talking. ‘Everybody’s always pullin’ at Snoop Dogg, but I try to do for him. I go get him things, like a fish fillet — I know he like that. Orange Crush — he like that, too. And because of my association with Snoop, I’m taking myself to new heights. Like — and you print this — I’m the first pimp William Morris ever signed!’
Maybe not quite like the Queen of England.

The quote comes from a story in Salon. I don’t know if non-subscribers can get it.

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He’s on our side

Just a throwaway link from tnh but this is a lovely piece of work, and shows what libraries can do on the web if they are so inclined. It makes a good illustrated primer to one thesis in Dr Longley’s important book.

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Technical writing

When I am on my own, less often otherwise, I eat kippers. This morning, I finally mastered the technique, from Jane Grigson, of eating them without any bones at all. Her instructions were illustrated with diagrams. I were setting a proper A level in English, I would demand that candidates describe the process clearly, concisely, and without pictures. You may not use more than one side of the paper. You may write for an hour. Successful candidates may read any subject at University, though there may be supplemental questions if you anctually want to study Eng Lit. (I have scribbled a wonderful answer to my own question, but the margin is not big enough to hold it)

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A sense of proportion

There’s a (good and interesting) story on Cnet about a man who makes the best guitar strings in the world, and switched to Linux after being busted by the BSA. It wasn’t the money he minded; it was the subsequent public humiliation, and the fact that his crimes were entirely inadvertent. All he had done was to change the ownership of computers without wiping the hard disks.

There are a couple of fine, counter-intuitive points. One is that Linux, whatever is better than Windows if you want to run your office like a chicken battery:
If you put a bunch of stuff on people’s desktops they don’t need to do their job, chances are they’re going to use it. I don’t have that problem. If all you need is word processing, that’s all you’re going to have on your desktop, a word processor. It’s not going to have Paint or PowerPoint. I tell you what, our hits to eBay went down greatly when not everybody had a Web browser. For somebody whose job is filling out forms all day, invoicing and exporting, why do they need a Web browser? The idea that if you have 2,000 terminals they all have to have a Web browser, that’s crazy. It just creates distractions.

But the great line was a throway at the end: Microsoft is a growing business with $49 billion in the bank. What do they care about me? That should be the marketing line for SuSE and OOo.

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Lossily compressed article

Someone just rang me up from a newspaper that shall be nameless, asking for a piece on the sobig worm. I said, which is true, that I am too busy today. It is also true that I have no ideas at all about it and would only have any if I were feeling very broke. But I did manage to squeeze out one line, about the changing economics of the business and the move to renting, not buying stuff. “It used to be that software was sold like cars: a big purchase, that came with manuals and which you wouldn’t upgrade for years. Now they want to sell it you like petrol: a little purchase, endlessly repeated.”

This is different to the shift from paying for printers to paying for ink cartridges, because no one is trying to conceal what’s happening.

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