It was going to be an easy job. Get in, do something, get out. It wasn't much, the reasons for doing it were rather more intellectual than financial. I was making a point, kind of like Robin Hood. But she was there. The thing was done, she could see it. She wasn't in a position to stop me. She looked at me, sized me up, found me lacking. Something was terribly ugly on her face when she howled and threw herself at me, shouting all the time. It was like I have offended her on a personal level, like she wouldn't take defeat, one that was obvious at the time we've met.

So I did it. In fear, panic more likely, with all my power, I stabbed her with the screwdriver I've used to get in. I did it once, twice, three times. I didn't believe that it was so easy to stick something that long in a human being so easily, through clothes, skin, meat... She looked at me, with annoyed surprize, my screwdriver dripping blood, her official looking shirt dirtied by three horrible red dots, she looked at me for the longest of moments, her face showing angry disaproval, hateful disgust.

Then she attacked again, with renewed force, in silence, which actually made her even scarier, like a demon from hell. Her face contorted by unmistakeable hate, she pushed me with all her strength, trying to claw at my eyes. All I could do is let me be pushed, holding her arms, trying to defend myself, until I reached a stair rail with my back. We couldn't go any further and starting from a mischievous thing, the simplest of things, I was fighting for my life with a witch which I've just stabbed, but didn't die. So I tried to throw her down the stair case, three floors down, which I am sure would have killed her.

But she clang to me, she knew she would fall, but instead of thinking of saving her life, she pulled at me, trying to make me fall with her. She wanted me hurt, dead, she wanted to avenge something terribly ugly from her own life, which, I am sure now, had nothing to do with me personally. She was scarred, long before I got there, with my bloody Johnson screwdriver. But right then, the only thing I could think about was I was going to die. But I didn't. Somehow I landed safely on a stair underneath, while the hag took the plunge.

She didn't die, though. Clinging to me has slowed her fall, so now she was sprawled on the floor downstairs, mumbling something, her legs in an awkard position. I went to her, partly because I wanted to get out, and I had to use the stairs, partly because I wanted to see her, to see what I have done, my brain in shock, yet sickly curios about the bloody mess I have caused.

She was clearly dying, her face wasn't wrinkled in hate anymore, she looked... peaceful. But she was alive and she looked at me with something resembling love or something similar. All her scars were gone in that moment and her thoughts, or what had remained of them after hitting the floor with her head, weren't evil anymore. There was no anger on her face and that made her look, well, beautiful. She was about 50, maybe more, but she looked like someone good at heart, like an innocent child.

So I did the only thing I could have. I kneeled next to her, I took her head in my hands, conforted her for a moment, telling her it will not hurt for long, then I snapped her neck. It isn't so easy as in the movies, I had to try several times, making this more of a mess than it already was. When I heard the snap, like in a chicken's neck, I turned her head in the other way, just to make sure that she was dead, not paralysed or feeling pain in any way.

Of course, That wouldn't have made it all better, I have done all of that, and I knew it, and my soul was crying and a huge depression engulfed me, like I had killed a part of me. And I also knew that no one would have waited for her home. She was this spiteful angry hateful person that no one liked, that stayed at the work place during the night because there was nothing waiting for her outside. I was sure that the members of her family would feel partly relieved that she was dead. And the only person that saw her beautiful, the only person that saw, even for the briefest moments, beyond that wall of negative emotions, was the man that had killed her.

At the time, struggling with all my strength to break that woman's neck, I had wished that I was more efficient in stabbing her, less panicked, maybe sticking her in the heart, killing her instantly, but now I know I was meant to see that beautiful face, that it couldn't go any other way, that I was meant to see that face looking at me, with an innocent sadness, for the rest of my life.

I've stumbled upon this dugg link that shows a very cool animation. I am reproducing it here, because of annoying commercials on that site.

Also, if you have an iPad or some other device that doesn't support Flash, you're out of luck.

I am reproducing here two larger collections of What is Love thematic song remakes :) They're kind of funny.

Well, I just had to say something about the video of Saddam Hussein's execution. But I'll try to be brief and focus on only two things: the censorship applied to the official video and the US comments.
First, the big row shouldn't be about Saddam at all. Whatever he did, why he did it and how harsh a punishment he deserves is an internal Iraqi affair, and their... democratic history... leaves to be desired. It's not like they know how to behave in a dignified manner, anyway. No, the problem is the censorship on the official video. Somehow, they realised that how they did the whole thing was wrong. They got it! It was wrong. But, in their typical governmental greed, they removed the sound, clipped the video, and spun the story as they could to actually make them look good.
The second issue, the US government made a statement that said they would have done everything in a different way and that it all boils down to the inexperience of the Iraqi government. But they were referring to the leaked video! So what they actually said, publicly, is that they had more experience in limiting media access and manipulating public opinion. Which, of course, they do, but that's besides the point.
Both these situations show only one thing: shamelessness, the lack of shame, on the part of any government. It's beyond 'power corrupts', it's all about the corrupted seeking power and getting it, wrapped in a nice 'democratic' package.

There is no statistic that I know of that calculates the percentage of "media leaks" in situations like this or Abu Ghraib, etc. In other words, a formula that could estimate the actual number of cases based on the number that were recorded on tape and made it to the public. But my guess is it's similar to fossiles. Only a small fraction of dead animals fossilise in order for archeologists to find them. Such leaks show a trend, rather than exceptions. They also help "them" to become more "experienced".

Randomly browsing the net I've found a very nicely written article, deceptively titled The dumbing-down of programming , which I just had to blog about. It tells about the onion structure in computers, layers upon layers of stuff you didn't even think it's there and that you never use. It's about archeology in your own computer. Cute.

Ian Watson
Reviews

I've first started reading this book with aprehension, it seemed to involve weird and useless experiments, a heavy language or writing style, socialist concepts and a lot of bull. After a while, however, it started to become interesting. The concepts were refined, the gray areas explained, aliens appeared... it seemed to gather pace. After reading 90% of it I was looking forward for the grand finale. Which was nothing but a big and sloppy hiss.

The whole idea of the book revolves around the nature of reality and our perception of it. It starts from three different points of view and it seems to have a very good foundation to build on. It does present some concepts that might have value, but in the end, it fails miserably. I guess the author was unable to carry everything through or he just got bored with it.

But do bear in mind that it's his first novel, written in 1973, and he won the Apollo Prix in 1975 with it.

I've spent my last two days watching popular science shows. I've started with the very bad and time wasting "What we still don't know" and ended up with the marvelous "Stephen Hawking's Universe". I've always had this fantasy of doing something that matters, maybe become proficient in the things I really like, but rarely do, like writing, or science. And, in the good old trandition of Sierra games, I've thought of a "So you want to be a ..." series, where average everyday people like myself could be shown how to become something they always wanted, in the shortest time possible. Something like a career guide on speed.

Well, I am certainly not the only one to have come up with this idea: Dr. Michio Kaku wrote an article about becoming a physicist. Well, he basically tells you you cannot become a physicist if you've already lost the train. But I disagree. If you really want something, you can achieve it, at any age, only you can't do it with support from others.

So, what do I want to become? I've written in my todo list to check out calculus, topology and noncommutative geometry. That is almost certain not to go well, but at least I plan to try (trying). Damn, I like to think of stuff and never do anything about it. I only like whinning more! But the question is: what do you want to become? Don't waste your time. And I am not talking about carrers, I am talking about the things that makes one define himself on. Like for me, I am a C# programmer. That defines me at this moment. I certainly am glad there is more to add to that, like other achievements or "I am a good person" or "I have felt true love", but I still wish I could add more. Maybe being a part time garage cosmologist wouldn't hurt. Dreams ARE important and they are surely unachievable only when you don't even try to achieve them.

Ok, I am not the greatest child lover in the world. I don't want any children, not even to have sex with them. But when I see sites like this: 'Santa Claus does not exist' school tells stunned kids I can't help myself reply in anger.
Does anyone realise that while telling nice stories about Santa, or God, or Halloween or whatever, one is actually lying? When I read the above mentioned article, I immediately replied in irony that kids should believe in Santa and other increasingly idiotic things we usually are told when we're kids. And the list grew immediately to a stagering dimension. I stopped myself, censored some of the things I've written and sent the reply. I am curious if it will ever be published on the said site, as I've noticed that UK sites, including BBC, only publish the moderate or expected responses, especially if you mention you're not from the UK.
How did you feel when you found out Santa is not really a real person? Didn't it change not only the way you see Christmas and the world, but the trust you had in your parents? I am almost 30 and I remember the day when my dad told me an obvious lie and I realised, for the first time in my life, that my parents do lie to me, as opposed to what they've said to me in the past. A lot of the things I've been told during my childhood have been lies, and while there weren't bad lies, nobody desiring my harm in any way, they shaped the way I saw the world afterwards.
Every time such a fairy tale bubble burst, I felt more out of touch with reality, more insecure, sadder, disappointed. Don't do that to your children, no matter how obnoxious they are. So they don't let you sleep well, don't punish them by giving them false hope you just know will break their heart when they realise they have been fed with lies. Beat the crap out of them, it's safer, it hurts less.
Of course, I have no idea how a kid would develop if you told him everything. It is a frightening concept, but does one really have the right to shape one's reality as they see fit just because they don't like the one they live in? "Yes, daddy is going everyday to a shitty job, hating his shitty life, wanting to die, but lacking the courage to end it all." Would such a notion push a child to suicide or to a real life, one that is different from the one his dad hates?
There is no such thing as political corectness. Politics are about the acquisition and application of power. Will you give your child the option to apply his own power of the brain to his own chosen life or will you maim him in his infancy, by feeding him false information, seeding his mind with lies that will never go away, no matter how much he tries as an adult?

And as a small Christmas article that makes sense, check this out: The Real Story of Christmas

Not only that you associate news with something that's been dug up from something, but now it swarms, too :) Check this out: Digg swarm, a small java applet that shows news on digg as they show up and people swarming around them. A pretty nice trick.

Have you seen the movie "The Death of Mr. Lazarescu"? It is a Romanian movie about a guy that is taken from hospital to hospital in order to fix what seems to be a slow cerebral hemorrhage. Wonderful moment when, in the very end, the man is still living, but in a very bad state, and the movie ends. Because the title does say it all.

As a divine retribution for accusing the holidays of sucking, my wife had a car accident. Some female driver hit her while on the designated street crossing area. She is fine, thank you all, but for a clavicular fracture. This specific injury means that she can barely do anything by herself and I have to tend to her until the bone fuses together or she has surgery (I'll know for sure on Sunday, December 24th, when I take her to the hospital again).

Ok, back to mr. Lazarescu. As in the movie, the medical establishment is a dirty, underfunded, disorganised piece of crap. When I got the phone call, Maria was already at the hospital, waiting for treatment. The emergency hospital Floreasca was partially closed, due to reconstruction, and the only entrance was covered with signs that said "Access forbidden to visitors!". I was a visitor, but it was the only way in, so I phoned my wife and asked. I was supposed to enter through there.

I found her holding her right arm with her left, in obvious shock and pain, waiting... for what? She just had her radiography taken to her shoulder and they sent us to another section of the hospital. There they asked what has happened, and my wife explained that immediately after the hit she couldn't see well, and that she was afraid not to have a head injury. So they sent her back to the radiology room.
[small paranthesis] The woman doctor indicated we should go right, then right again, to where the rotating door is, in the middle of the wall. That was her female for first door on the right. There wasn't any revolving or rotating door anywhere![end paranthesis]
I was told to wait outside the radiology room until the male nurse would call us in. I waited, seeing three people appearing out of nowhere and entering in, before I got the nerve to ask the guy there "excuse me, is there a name calling, an order number system, or people just enter?". "People just enter", he replied apathetically. So I took Maria, pushed her in, to finally get her head scanned. All this time she held her injured arm with the other, no one even considered doing anything about it, even if we already had the radio image of the clavicular fracture.

Then we went back to the previous room where a doctor interpreted the scans, then sent us to another section, the one where they actually do something. We waited there as well, at least another half hour, in front of a door which said "we are in the middle of hospital reconstruction, we only have limited support, we prioritize people, do not enter, do not open the door, etc". Already knowing the drill, I opened the door and entered, taking Maria with me.

The actual fix was to make a figure 8 bandage around her shoulders, to keep the bones together. Then they sent us again to the radiology room, to see how well the doctor did, then we went back. All this was done without anestethic, even if it didn't hurt too much, and the only shot they gave her was an antitetanos shot for a little scratch on her leg.

You have to imagine this so called hospital, with rooms that had building materials in them and the whole facility smelling like a zoo. This is not a metaphor, I've recently been to the zoo, and the neglected reptile cages smell exactly how this hospital did. Maria reached the hospital at around 16:40 and we left at around 21:00, this being an «emergency» hospital.

The doctor also prescribed us some medicine, because they didn't actually have a farmacy there. So we had to take a cab, look for a farmacy, pay for the medicine, get back, take her home, etc. I then inquired on how will the insurance company (ING Bank, btw) cover this, since it wasn't her fault (it was determined by the police that it was the driver's fault) and we had to both miss work, pay for medicine, go to the hospital now and then by using a cab, etc. It appears that the insurance, which we dutifully payed for at least 3 years now, doesn't cover anything but the spitalization cost. No spitalization, no fucking insurance. More so, in order to take some sort of compensation from the driver, we must actively sue her, go through courts and so on.

Let me make a short synopsis: car accident, hospital, 4-5 hours spent for 3 X-rays, an antitetanos shot and a bandage, no insurance coverage. If my employers weren't good human beings (as most aren't) I would probably be forced to either neglect my wife or lose my job, and in order to somehow fix it, I should actively sue the driver and (without a job, maybe) go through courts, pay a lawyer, etc., which I don't really want to do anyway, since the driver didn't actually intend to hit my wife, she was just incredibly slow!

Did you like the movie? It's a nice holiday piece. Fuck!!!!

The funny thing is, Floreasca is actually one of the good hospitals. No doctor asked us for extra payment, each doctor or technician actually wanted to help, I am sure whatever they did, they did good work, but they do it in such a misguided, unfunded, disorganised matter. I mean, do I actually need to scan a bone, create a picture of it, carying it all around the hospital in order for another doctor to see it in the next room? It's like the middle ages in there!

There is this saying that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. None of the people involved in this story had any bad intentions, but we still got screwed!

Update:

Maria doesn't need surgery. Phew! We've changed the bandages to a more manageable type that is also adjustable in case it is too tight or too loose. We are going to the doctor's on January 2nd for another check. Then on the 3rd I am going to work X(. Anyway, I was going crazy sitting in the house all the time, helping Maria up and down, etc. (you have to appreciate me not going into the sordid details), so I guess it will be good.

Thank all the people that showed genuine concern over my wife's state and I hope you had better holidays than my own. ;)

Update 2:

X( We went to the doctor's again. It seems that the bones didn't fuse together and it mostly because the last bandage was too thick and thus ineffective. So Maria was right after all, she always is a good judge of character, that Petre doctor that made the bandage last time was all talk and nothing else.
More than that, it's not that she doesn't need surgery, is that after 4 weeks of observation we will know for sure. Doctors are certain it will heal, eventually, but the whole process gives me the creeps. I'll keep you posted here until she heals (or gets off my back! :) just kidding.)

Update 3:

Another visit to the hospital (with yet another doctor) was close to personal hell for me. The entire facility was packed with old sick people sitting in queues. This might not mean a hell of a lot to others, but I really hate these kinds of things. The only thing I hate more is being very hot. Sure enough, when we left from the radiology section to go to the actual doctor we reached and even more crowded room, which had the air conditioner turned to hot and with no open door or windows. Being very crowded, Maria went in and got out almost immediately. The x-ray looked better, the bones seemingly fusing. So the doctor send us home, told us to return in three weeks. Then we will know more. :-/ Well, at least there are some good news.

Earlier today I went to the family doctor (in Romania this is a doctor that is assigned to our family... and other thousands of others X( ) to ask for a medical break for Maria's work. I had to fought off sickly old people again in order to get to see the doctor, but after all I only had to take a paper in and return with another paper.
Of course, it wasn't going to be so easy. Apparently, the doc is supposed to give me a paper for the orthopedy department, they will give me the medical break letter. However, I need to take there yet another document to attest that Maria is hired somewhere. Why the hell would I need the papers for a medical break if she wasn't hired?! I say this while trying to ignore that if I weren't around Maria would have to make one trip to the work place to get this latest paper, then go to the family doctor to get that paper, go to orthopedy, etc.
Getting to the orthopedy department reserved a special surprise to me: it was going to open at 14:00 hours. Of course, it was 8:00 and I went there especially in order to find the family doctor who worked mornings and get to work immediately after. So that would have meant another trip for Maria.

Update 4:

Ok, last update on this post. Maria is now (1st of February 2007) ok. Her bandages are off, she is painfully using her hand and she goes to kineto and physio therapy. We had to pay around 50 euros to be able to do that now and not after a few weeks (with the other people waiting to get well, but without money) and, of course, that's not a sum that will be covered by the insurance. The medical insurance actually payed for nothing at all. Isn't that great? Fortunately, the driver agreed to pay us the medical expenses so we won't sue. We wouldn't have sued anyway, I think. Although for my avid readers I might have started a whole Romanian legal system series :)

Check out this little link: You receive an "interface not registered" error message when you try to build a Setup project in Visual Studio .NET
Why this is happening in the first place, I do not know, but the fix worked wonderfully. I was trying to build a Net 1.1 setup vdproj with Visual Studio 2003 and I got the error: "Could not find the file '[file that was obviously there]' 'Interface not registered' ".

Hey! I have internet at home, at last! I dedicate this entry to the Titannet guys :)

Browsing the web I stumbled about this almost incredible story, one that shows in no ambiguos terms that evolution does run continuosly and that it can happen very fast: The superlions marooned on an island.

Long story short, a group of lions were marooned on an isolated island for 15 years. Instead of dying out they've adapted to a new prey (the buffalo), becoming swimmers, more intelligent pack hunters and stronger as individuals. They have become a lion subspecies in 15 years flat.

This book is odd enough. Finally finished reading it a few days ago, I remained with the feeling of not getting it. What the hell? A guy is turned into a bug, then his family tries to take care of him, but after a while they just stop being nice to the poor insect and it finally dies.

But then, thinking about it, I noticed the symbols in the book. It is all about a dark hopeless capitalism as in Kafka's day, one that can only be coped with by roaches. Working continuously while being at the whim of whatever greedy employer you have, supporting family and servants and a bigger house than needed because you don't dare have a spine. In this sad little story, the main character did not once revolt against the situation in which he was. Actually, I am wrong, he did revolt against some trivial things like taking a picture from his room or wanting to see his sister playing the violin, thus exiting the room where he was confined.

The book itself ends with his family feeling relief of getting rid of the big roach in their house and having a better life because each of the members had to take a job to get through this.

Conclusion: this didn't feel like a very good book, but it was good enough. It is also a classic, this being the reason for reading it. So, it's worth a read, if you can take the time to think about it.

Yes! At popular demand and enormous pressure, the World Sucks series is back!
Todays episode: holidays! The word itself comes from holly and day, but in the meanwhile it collapsed into this one word that has nothing holly in it anymore. It's all about buying stuff, planning vacations in the "season" when all prices are inflated and all nice places are assaulted by noisy tourists (like yourself) which makes them less than nice, getting job time off in the same damn time with everybody else (and being considered not a team player if you want to work while all the others go away) and, last but not least, all kind of deities mixed together with local folklore to create a special kind of brand for each particular miserable disgusting day of each bloody holiday.

Accept it, people, holidays suck! It's this type of awful planned and allowed liberations that show the true nature of slavery. Holidays have become so much embedded in our culture, that we measure our own time and pleasure by them. If there is a holiday, you must enjoy it! If you don't you are a weirdo and if it ends you must stop enjoying anything. Get back to work, you lazy bum! I see people that expect those few free days from work like a child awaits the cndy from the sweets dispencer. What about the other days?! They are also yours. You can decide what to do with them. You can stop feeling miserable in any given day, you can miss on office work and stay in bed all day any time. I completely understand that some employers might not agree with this and even some self employed work alcoholics that think the world spins around them might growl at me from their dark den, but that doesn't make them right!

Holidays suck because they take away freedom, in it's most basic sense. You are allowed to not go to work, you are allowed to buy things that in the middle of the year you wouldn't even consider buying (ask yourself why?) and you are allowed to spend it with your family and friends. What? You don't have family and friends any other day? What if you don't want to spend your free time with family and friends? What if you just want to be left alone, to make a cool software program, play a game for 24 hours straight or watch the entire third season of Battlestar Galactica continuously from start to end? Then you clearly don't have the holiday spirit. Well, fuck the holiday spirit! It sucks!

Wee! I've received a PDA from my bestest of uncles (which will soon work for Google and I am so proud of him). Ok, back to adult mode. I've used the newly acquired PDA to read books! I've started Metamorphosis by Kafka, but the file was incomplete by accident, so I ended up reading The Martian Child.
It's a small text, 80KB in length, and it's not really sci-fi, but it's nice. It's the kind of warm, easy to read text suited for bus rides. It involves a sci-fi writer adopting a child who says he is a Martian. During the entire text, the author struggles with the eerie feeling that the child was actually right, even if there is no way to prove it.
It was nice enough.

Another suspected NASA hacker indicted tells the story of a Romanian hacker who entered 150 NASA computers, then made them display messages boasting the hack. Of course, the US government immediately took initiative and fixed all their computer security holes, suing the corporations that made the buggy software sued the Romanian hacker for "conspiracy and nine counts of computer intrusion", mounting up to 54 years in prison, if found guilty on all charges. I won't even go there. It is just ridiculous. A few years ago, an American soldier killed a man in a traffic accident and he was immediately flown back to the States, where they found him guilty of a misdemeanour and he didn't even do jail time. Read again he KILLED a man.

But there is also some justice in the world: U.S. marine sentenced to 40 years for rape in Philippines. Now, of course, the poor guy didn't do anything as serious as hacking into a computer and boasting that he did it, so he gets only 40 years.