Python developer center launch at YDN

In these times of snakes on planes, it seems fitting that we launched the Python Developer Center today on the Yahoo! Developer Network. The Python Developer Center was put together by Simon Willison (Simon also posted on the YDN blog).

This is timely for me, because like Jeremy, I’m beginning to learn Python after being a Perl guy for a long time (with a little PHP thrown in in recent years). I had some mild tangles with Python back in 1997 or so when we used the Ultraseek search engine at CNN, but I never got very deep into it. Now’s my chance!

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The road to shaving nirvana goes through London

Anyone who knows me (or my dad or brother) knows that managing the Dickerson beard is a near-Sisyphean task. The Dickerson beard is absolutely relentless (as I sit here writing this on Sunday afternoon, I haven’t shaved since Friday, and I could easily be cast as someone who has been stranded on a desert island for months). I seem to recall my dad telling me that long ago when my grandfather approached the barbershop in small-town Bunn, NC, the barber groaned and began sharpening his straight razor furiously. A “5 o’clock shadow” late in the day would be a wondrous gift to any of the men in my family. For me, I’m pretty sure the shadow sets in as I’m rinsing my face after a shave. For this reason, I’ve taken an unusual interest in the search for the perfect shave. By pure excellent happenstance, I stumbled into one of the most hallowed halls of shaving on my recent trip to London. My shave will never be the same.

The topic of shaving seems to pop up in the blogosphere somewhat regularly. Merlin Mann’s Shaving tips, or, “how I remain Gillette’s bitch” is a must-read in the genre, as is this MSNBC article (which Merlin references) that pushed me down the path of old-school shaving with a badger brush and a tub of shaving soap early last year. Like Merlin, I tried the Merkur safety razor, but after a couple of tries, I decided that bleeding so profusely early in the morning just didn’t sit well with me, so I went back to the trusted Mach 3. The badger brush/tub of shaving soap/Mach 3 combo is a winner, I tell you.

razorI’ll admit that along with the functional appeal of the new method of shaving, there was a certain aesthetic satisfaction I got from doing it the new (yet old) way. It’s hard to explain to the uninitiated, but the morning is just better when you lather your face up the old-fashioned way instead of rubbing cold Edge gel on your face. While the Mach 3 made my shaving ensemble complete functionally, its $5.99 drugstore aesthetic appeal never quite rose to the seriousness of my shaving task. The Merkur safety razor caused a facial bloodbath, but it sure did look good in the bathroom.

Fast-forward to the London trip. . . I was walking down St. James Street in London (a swanky area — we were just cutting through on our way somewhere else) when I noticed an entire display of beautful old-school shaving gear in a shop window. I swear that the clouds parted and God himself spoke to me. I had stumbled upon Truefitt & Hill, home of the Guiness-certified oldest barbershop in the world. Their tagline is “grooming men for greatness.” Truefitt & Hill claims that its barbers have given shaves to Sir Winston Churchill, John Wayne, Charles Dickens, Fred Astaire, Cary Grant, Alfred Hitchcock, and Danny Kaye. I was quite possibly at ground zero for shaving in the world. (Ask Nancy, it was all I could talk about for the rest of the trip)

Now, I had shaved just a bit earlier, so it didn’t make a lot of sense to go into the world’s oldest barbershop (!!) to get another shave, but that didn’t prevent me from having an immensely fulfilling half-hour conversation about my shaving needs with a nice woman behind the counter there. This was a long way from sitting in my PJs piecing together an order on classicshaving.com (fine people there, no doubt). I quickly found out that the fine folks at Truefitt & Hill sold absolutely beautiful and elegant Mach 3 compatible razors. Sold! They weren’t cheap (~$90), but all you need to know is that the shipping weight for these things is one pound and the look is timeless (see the photo with this post). I was so totally sold that I had to get a new matching badger brush and stand to complete the set. I even bought some new Truefitt & Hill shaving soap (and the tub I already had will last at least until 2010). The packaging says “Many of our fine preparations have been formulated for almost 200 years and are still sold to the nobility.” (Classic shavers: Truefitt & Hill was on Old Bond Street in 1811, perhaps even preceding Taylor of Old Bond Street!) Somehow, I didn’t feel like nobility in my Austin City Limits t-shirt, but I’m glad they were willing to so generously share their shaving excellence with a plebe like me. Generations of male Dickersons to come will henceforth receive a package from Truefitt & Hill at birth.

I have been shaving with my new Mach 3 compatible Truefitt & Hill razor for a couple of weeks now, and I couldn’t recommend it more highly. The combination of the Mach 3 blade with the quality heft of such a well-made razor is unparalleled. My Mach 3 has never felt so classy.

E-commerce is about the little things

Over the past several years, I’ve bought cars over the Internet, financed my house over the Internet, and made many relatively high-dollar electronics purchases, but I have never had such a satisfying e-commerce experience as I had today.

dryer knobFirst, a little background. This morning, the plastic on/off knob on my dryer broke and I had to use a set of pliers to turn it on and off. (Of course, this is this sort of minor annoyance that can threaten to tip a challenging day into negative territory). I punched the model number of the dryer into Yahoo! Search and quickly ended up on partselect.com, where I quickly found a useful page with a diagram of the “control panel” for the dryer and clear options to order the needed part, and a few clicks later, I had placed an order for a replacement.

Thank you, Internet. After all these years, you continue to thrill me in wonderful little ways.

Update 07/21/06: To finish the story, the parts arrived at my desk yesterday (Thursday) after my Sunday order — just in time for the weekend laundry (and I ordered with regular ground shipping). Fit perfectly.

I'm engaged

I’m engaged! Check out these Flickr photos. I didn’t mention it on my blog before, but I’m in Paris for vacation (my first time here) and I had been planning to pop the question for quite a while now. My apologies to the many friends — even close ones — who I didn’t tell. I wanted absolute air-tight secrecy! Special apologies to those of you whom I flat-out lied to when you asked me if I was going to propose on this trip. Nancy is an absolute gem. I love her so much, and I have never felt so loved and cared for. That’s what life is all about. We are having a great time celebrating, mainly by walking around and sitting in cafes all day talking. We are both very good at this.

My fianceeOur engagement made yesterday an extraordinary day all by itself, but that was only the beginning. Later on in the evening, we watched France beat Brazil in the World Cup in a cafe with some new French friends (new friends mainly because we offered our enthusiastic American support for the French team, which they graciously accepted), then joined the throngs of people who rushed to the Champs Elysèes to celebrate. I had always read about the U.S. forces marching down the Champs Elysèes in August 1944 when Paris was liberated from the Nazis and could only imagine what that must have been like. This party went on until about 2am. Even before the match last night, we had been seeing people driving through the streets of Paris waving large (i mean, really large) flags of their respective countries, beeping and yelling out the window. World Cup fever has been a real bonus of this trip. We are definitely going to be watching France vs. Portugal in the semi-finals on Wednesday night — can’t wait.

All the stereotypes of the French have proven to be outright wrong. Both Nancy and I have been speaking French whenever possible (though we’re both a bit rusty) and everyone we’ve met has been really kind despite our limited vocabularies. A simple bonjour upon entering a shop or restaurant before asking for something, merci when appropriate, and au revoir when leaving is generally sufficient. The stereotype of French snobbery and aloofness is really just them leaving you alone to think, eat, drink, or whatever. I love Paris.

Now, back to the woman I love. . . .

The Stanley Cup in North Carolina: just plain weird

When I called my dad in North Carolina (where I spent the first 23 years of my life) on Sunday for Fathers Day and he mentioned NHL hockey, it just didn’t seem right. When I was growing up there, I’m pretty sure the World Cup garnered more excitement than hockey. Hockey and the South just don’t mix well.

One of the more difficult management problems I’ve ever faced was hockey-related. When I managed a team of developers at CNN / Sports Illustrated (now just SI.com) in Atlanta and hockey season rolled around, we had to crunch all the stats into our various databases and generate useful web pages for hockey fans. I remember how difficult it was to get anyone on my team of Southerners to do the work. We had meetings where we hashed over NHL rules that seemed like they had been created on another planet. I still don’t know what “icing” is. The work got done (the team was great), but I always dreaded hockey season.

Fast forward to now, and the Stanley Cup is sitting with the Carolina Hurricanes somewhere in Raleigh, North Carolina. I’m stunned. The world has clearly gone mad.

17-car sorta-pileup on the 101 (and I was in it!)

This is a momentous day. Just over a week away from my 34th birthday, and I got in my first-ever car wreck while behind the wheel (I’ve been in a couple with others driving) — and it was a doozy! A seventeen car chain-reaction.

CHiPsTraffic had stopped really quickly and I had just finished congratulating myself for not smashing into the Toyota minivan in front of me when the Honda behind me gave me a memorable physics lesson. I initially avoided impact and came to a stop, but the woman driving the Honda behind me took the brunt from a giant garbage truck behind her and ever-so-gently (in relative terms) slammed me into the minivan.

Things I learned:

  • Camera phones (or digital cameras in general) are really useful at an accident scene. Instead of writing everything down, take some photos of the damage, a copy of the relevant people’s insurance cards, etc.
  • In 17-car accidents, the police break things up into smaller sub-accidents, and the iterate over the smaller accidents.
  • One way to meet a cross-section of Silicon Valley is to get into a large accident. I met a garbage truck driver, a woman who works at Cisco, a couple of Highway Patrol guys, and a woman of indeterminate occupation. I don’t recommend this as a way to meet people, but you’re gonna be on the side of the road for a while, so why not exchange a few pleasantries?
  • In accident reports, one of the first things the cops ask you is, “were you using a cell phone at the time of the accident?” (I wasn’t).
  • People are surprisingly calm in 17-car accidents (and this one didn’t seem so bad). There’s something about seeing 16 other cars on the side of the road in various states of dented-ness that makes one think, “I’m lucky that this wasn’t worse.” When 17 cars are involved, you’re bound to see at least a few cars that got it worse than you.
  • I grew up in North Carolina as a big fan of the old CHiPs TV show (we used to ride our bikes and pretend we were CHiPs). For that reason, I felt like I was dealing with a celebrity when the motorcycle cop from the California Highway Patrol took a report from me. They are good guys. . . just like Ponch and John were.

Anyway, I’m ok and my car seems to need some minor bodywork. Whew.

Postscript: I found possibly the most naive FAQ question EVER in a CHiPs FAQ:

Was the popularity of “CHiPs” ever exploited by marketing?

Uh, “yes.”

Great moments in dotcom history: DigiScents

The 25 Worst Tech Products of All Time story from PC World brought back a memory of dotcom craziness at its peak. #24 on the list was DigiScents iSmell, which was according to PC World “a shark-fin-shaped gizmo that plugged into your PC’s USB port and wafted appropriate scents as you surfed smell-enabled Web sites–say, perfume as you were browsing Chanel.com, or cheese doodles at Frito-Lay.com.” I visited DigiScents back in the day and remember the visit clearly.

Back in the summer and fall of 2000, I was leading an effort to commercialize the CMS we had built at Salon.com. We called the spin-off Creation Engines, and word got around to the media and a story showed up on the Industry Standard. (Thanks to the dedication and efforts of David Wheeler, the project eventually was open-sourced as Bricolage). As CMS’s went, I think it was pretty good, but there were lots of reasons it didn’t end up working out (long story, but you can read the 8-K we filed with the SEC).

One of our early targets was DigiScents — we weren’t particularly discriminate in our sales targets by that point. We visited their offices in a grubby section of Oakland (getting real estate in SF then was impossible — remember?) and we did our usual presentation, then a person on their end of the table uttered a line with a completely straight face that pretty much encapsulated the simultaneous seriousness and insanity of the dotcom era for me:

“We’re building a portal of digital smells — a snortal.”

I almost spit up my free dotcom soda.

Just now, I had to look in the Internet Archive to make sure I didn’t dream up the “snortal” concept. Lo and behold, on their “contact us” page, you see this line:

If you would like to advertise on Snortal (coming soon), inquire at ads@digiscents.com.

Also, run a search for “snortal” and there’s still a trail. You just can’t make this stuff up!

Making DSL too hard

My dad recently ordered DSL from Earthlink (provided by Sprint) and was having trouble getting it running. Basically, the software they provided was hanging during installation, so it looked like the overall install just didn’t work and he was doomed to dial-up. The box he had was a basic self-install kit, and the #2 step was “Run the installation software” (after “prepare your PC”), so any normal person would think that installing the software on the CD they provided was a necessary step.

Luckily, I’m visiting my parents now in North Carolina, so I was able to take a closer look. I had the same problem with the install software hanging, and then it hit me — he probably didn’t actually need the software to get things running. I guessed that the software was probably just a bunch of unnecessary marketing crud. He had all the wires connected properly, so I decided to try hooking the DSL modem up to the computer and seeing if it worked. It did — he had it right all along.

Why do DSL companies do this to their customers? Why not just tell them that the software is optional?

Some thoughts on the Duke lacrosse situation

Update 12/22/06: The rape charges have been dropped.

Update 05/15/06: Having been in North Carolina since last Wednesday (part of the time on the Duke campus, where I had a really nice visit), I am actually geographically closer to the situation than at any point since it all started. The whole thing is starting to sound really fishy and it’s certainly possible that a rape did not occur. Bad behavior, definitely, but not necessarily rape. I stand by my criticisms of Duke culture below, but the case is starting to seem muddy at the very least. It’s also theoretically possible that we’re seeing the effects of excellent legal and PR work by the attorneys of the accused. Whatever happens, I hope the guilty are punished severely, and that includes the accuser if false allegations were made. For now, I’m going to stand back and watch the proceedings and hope the situation hasn’t gotten so twisted that justice can’t be served either way. In the meantime, Duke continues to do an excellent job of providing information to the community.

Update 05/16/06: OK, folks, I’m not approving any more comments on this thread unless someone says something new and insightful on either side. I left some wretched stuff in the comments, but frankly, I’m not interesting in being in the top 10 search results for any more searches like “duke lacrosse accuser whore.” You’ve made your point.

Original post begins below, unedited from the original

The alleged incident in Durham involving the Duke lacrosse team is troubling (to its credit, Duke has done an excellent job of covering itself). I’ve been debating whether to write about it for days now, but it’s been occupying my thoughts a lot lately as I have reflected on my own Duke experience as a student there from fall 1990 until the end of 1993, when I finished my degree (a semester early). I can’t say whether or not the incident in question happened, but I can say one thing for certain: Duke continues to have a serious problem with arrogance and entitlement, and it’s nothing new, unfortunately. At the very least, anyone associated with Duke should be ashamed at how believable the whole situation is.

This is not just about the lacrosse team (though they have been a problem for years), it’s about the institutions and traditions that Duke holds most dear in its public image, like basketball. When I was at Duke, I remember hearing the celebrated “Cameron Crazies” chant smugly “That’s all right, that’s ok, I’m gonna be your boss one day” on the rare occasions when the Duke basketball team would lose. Even worse, taunting chants of “State school! State school!” would fill Cameron when the opposing team was a public school — and everyone thought this was funny. I thought it verged on sickening, and still do. To me, it insulted people like my dad, who took seven years alternating among working in tobacco fields, going to class, and generally doing whatever it took to pay for his engineering degree at NC State — a state school.

I commend Duke University President Richard Brodhead for taking swift action and clearly communicating his thoughts on the matter to Durham and the Duke community in this letter. President Brodhead is still fairly new to Duke, and no one can expect him to make fundamental changes overnight. The state of affairs at Duke is clearly something that he inherited (his presidency has had its share of crises already).

My Duke card, 1991Before going on, I want to state that I really have nothing to gain personally by criticizing Duke at this point in my life. In lots of ways, though I didn’t come from a wealthy family, I have been the beneficiary of the privilege that an environment like Duke takes for granted. I learned a lot at Duke, graduated with honors, and I’ve had a great career. It seems entirely reasonable that I will be able to send my children to a university like Duke if I chose to do so without enduring the financial pain that my parents bore in sending me there. Life has been good to me.

But let’s be honest: no matter how you slice it, Duke is primarily an institution of privilege. President Brodhead tries to counter this notion somewhat in his letter:

Duke is not, as some have reported, just an institution for the children of wealthy families. This university admits undergraduates without regard to their family’s ability to pay, and we invest more than $50 million a year to enable the 40% of students who receive grant aid to afford a Duke education.

That’s true, but look at some of the raw numbers in a different way:

  • The average full cost of attendance at Duke for 2005-06: $44,005 (Source: Duke Financial Aid)
  • 42% of the entering Class of 2008 received need-based aid (Source: Duke Financial Aid)

I won’t go into all the factors that determine need-based aid, because Duke explains the process pretty well. The thing that strikes me is that when you look at the numbers above, 58% of the entering Class of 2008 were determined not to need aid. In other words, the families of those students could afford to fork out $44K for one year of college. Sure, Duke is not an institution “just” for wealthy families, but for whatever reason, a full 58% of the last incoming class was able to afford the $44K price tag for the first year. This paints a portrait of an astoundingly wealthy student body (or at least a massive gap between rich and poor within Duke).

Of course, wealth is as much an accident of birth as poverty, but it carries more responsibility, or at least some self-awareness. I knew wealthy kids at Duke who were both self-aware and responsible, and those stories of Duke good are being told. In my experience, though, the displays of mindless arrogance when I was there were shocking at times. One incident that I remember clearly is a fellow student from out-of-state asking me if I had gotten into Duke on an affirmative action program for people from North Carolina. Seriously. Another time, I had taken a summer job working on Duke’s Central Campus, painting student apartments and mowing grass. As I was mowing, I saw an acquaintance from a class the prior semester walk by and he motioned to me. I turned off my lawn mower and walked over to him. He asked me what I was doing. I said, “working.” He said, “Why?” I said, “Because I need the money.” He looked seriously puzzled. I had honestly never met people like that until I went to Duke. I could go on and on with stories like the ones above.

When I look at President Brodhead’s letter, the “Campus Culture Initiative” he describes jumps out at me:

The task of the Initiative is to evaluate and suggest improvements in the ways Duke educates students in the values of personal responsibility, consideration for others, and mutual respect in the face of difference and disagreement.

My freshman year (fall of 1990), we had a similar initiative called “Duke’s Vision.” I don’t remember the details or if there was any particular catalyst behind it, but I do remember that I invoked “Duke’s Vision” in a published letter to The Chronicle about some t-shirts that were surprisingly popular on campus. The t-shirts read: “Duke University: We’re not snobs, we’re just better than you.” Were these t-shirts just more zany “fun” from the same folks who brought you the “Cameron Crazies”? I didn’t think so then, and still don’t now. There’s something sinister and just plain nasty about it — why would the already over-privileged feel the need to rub it in? Again, this attitude certainly didn’t reflect everyone at Duke, but it was broad enough that an entrepreneur recognized it as a legitimate business opportunity, and that’s sad.

It’s deeply disturbing that some of the identical behaviors and attitudes I experienced (as one of the privileged!) are being echoed so clearly in events fifteen years later. I think the best thing I can do now is raise children who don’t take privilege for granted, or even worse, use it as a weapon against the less privileged. Whether the allegations against the Duke lacrosse team turn out to be true or not, the fact that it seems so plausible makes me less proud to be associated with Duke.

Hell is. . . .

In his play No Exit, Sartre famously wrote: “You don’t need red-hot pokers: Hell is — other people! ” (pas besoin de gril: l’enfer, c’est les autres). (Several years ago, I used to keep a copy of No Exit at my desk with my usual stack of software engineering books — it seemed to fit right in with books like Death March.)

I have a new definition of hell: when you’re working at home and someone on your street who apparrently has a LOT of time on his hands procures a drum set.