bubblehouse

As my DBA skills have progressed over the years, I'm always impressed and upset to see the extent to which MySQL has allowed me to use terrible syntax generally not accepted by standards-compliant SQL servers.

A recent one really blew me away, because it exposed a lack of understanding on my part about how to understand the syntax of JOIN commands.

This is how I always built nested JOIN queries. The premise is that semantically you are always selecting from a single table; the use of the INNER JOIN statement is treated like a function that returns a compound table.

This is a paper I wrote at some point during my Master's work. I think I had to do it because I kept forgetting to go to class, but I don't remember putting this much effort into it. It does a decent job of describing how it felt to finally break through various mental blocks about songwriting and composition.

[most emphasis is non-essential]

The compositional process has always been a difficult subject for me to adequately understand. For a long time I put forth a lot of effort to make my style of writing fit into a particular mold, only to be disappointed with the results. For an equally long time I had an idea of the kind of music I wanted to write, but I couldn't find the right method or approach to create this sound I heard.

This diatribe is a way for me to document the various discoveries I made as I began to develop my writing. Some of these things are really "well, duh..." kind of discoveries, but for me they are a way of simplifying important concepts that I find easy to forget.

this is truly the saddest thing i've ever seen.

so i made a lampshade for it...

just when i was sure i was out, they pulled me back in!!!

lately my exposure to spam has been relatively low. since i got spamassassin working to it's fullest by utilizing the razor db, the amount of false negatives i've gotten is damn close to zero. i can't remember the last time a spam e-mail got through to my inbox.

also, awhile ago i realized that spammers were the only ones submitting comments on my blog, which led me to start using James Seng's SCode.pm for generating CAPTCHAs, which stopped the problem for the most part. I was still getting spammed manually, though.

Source: http://www.theregister.co.uk/2004/11/07/blue_state_to_reds/

Reach out and sneer: Dem radicals speak to the Red States

By New Democrat Outreach Program

Published Sunday 7th November 2004 12:30 GMT

The defeated Kerry may have called for unity last week, but already radical elements inside and outside of the Democrat party are arguing for the abandonment of the old ways of cosy consensus. One such organisation, formed even as the last queues for the ballots ebbed away, styles itself "The New Democrat Outreach Program." The Register has been contacted by one NDOP activist, styling himself Commandante Camembert, with an early draft of the organisation's first communique to the nation. "We must," says Camembert, "learn to speak to all of the people. But we mustn't be afraid to sneer when we do it."

i understand why "art music" exists. i understand absurdity, dadism, the need for a composer to express himself. i understand the contributions that esoteric music has made to the mainstream, and i have composed my share of avant garde pieces to explore this facet of musical creation.

but when i listen to your five minute atonal composition consisting of a
grand total of seven different sounds, don't tell me that the reason i don't like
it is because

i don't get you

if it's not hard, then it's not art. if you didn't slave over it, then it's just a byproduct of your quest for musical expression

so, although i did take some pleasure in my chosen title for this weblog, being the simpsons fanatic that i am, i decided that it sounds too much like some angsty goth kid's page of lamentations.

bubblehouse is relatively meaningless, except being the name of a mmw tune that i like a lot. i also figure it's good to have the title be connected with the domain name.

so i leave you with the following...

Homer: What's wrong with you?  What are you trying to hide from me...
       [Homer opens the door and sniffs]  What's that smell?  Onions...
       chili powder... cumin... juicy ground chuck?  It's chili!  Oh, my
       god, I'm missing the chili cook-off!  [whining, fidgeting] I'm
       missing the cook-off, it's going on right now, and I'm missing 
       it.

Marge: All right, I was trying to keep it from you, but I had a good
       reason.  Every time you go to that cook-off you get drunk as a
       poet on payday.

Marge asks him to remember last year.  In a flashback, we see an
obviously drunk Homer, a Duff in each hand, standing in the cotton-
candy machine.  "Look at me...I'm a puffy pink cloud." he mumbles,
before he climbs out of the machine and lies on the ground, where dogs
lick at him.

Back to the present.  Homer is shuffling around in the closet.

Homer: Well of course, everything looks bad if you remember it.  Now
       where are my chili boots?