My Programming Philosophy: Not the Last X Percent

When you’re a mediocre programmer (read: me), it’s easy to conjure great ideas because you know their solutions to be possible.

It’s slightly more difficult to implement the main constituent concepts of your idea, but only (and hopefully) because there’s some research and learning involved. Recognizing your skills as mediocre, there’s likely a better way to do things than your current level of knowledge permits. A bit of reading and examination of examples set forth by those less-mediocre than you result in slightly-more-elegant code for your idea.

It may be difficult to stitch together all your elegant concepts into the idea, because you want the implementation of your idea to be elegant, as well. Don’t you?

This is the universally-loathed “Last x Percent”.

If you are unfortunate enough to have developed each of the elegant concepts in isolation, your stitching will involve dealing with myopically-complex data structures, and attempts at creating workable interfaces to them. It will be hellish; you’ll wonder why you opted to do things the way you did. But you’ll be too far into the project to go back and change the basics of the concepts to retain their elegance, yet offer graceful interaction.

Or will you?

The majority of the work you should do after dreaming up a great idea is: Work it through completely, or as completely as you can.

Start by thinking of how you would implement the whole shebang with your current (mediocre, remember?) knowledge and skills. Then, make a list of things you wish existed that would make it easier (tools, definitions, whatever). Next, see if those things already exist; do a moderate amount of homework, but don’t kill yourself. If you can’t find them readily, you already have a concept of what you must do to create them. Perhaps you’ll discover new tools, definitions, whatever that will facilitate making those things on your own.

Either way, you’re making progress.

But there has to be a sweet spot.

As you learn more, your functional knowledge will grow, and how you envisage the path to realizing your elegant idea will change. As every programmer’s painful memories can attest: Scope creep is bad. But it’s worse when it’s self-imposed.

You must consciously determine when you’ve learned enough. You have to be able to cut bait on theory and start typing code that works. Otherwise, you’ll never get it done.

Fulfill your personal need to collect fragments of new knowledge. Feel satisfied that you’ve done enough homework to become a better programmer.

Then do your shit. Make it work.

You can always come back later and repeat the process.

Cinco de Mayo

In an email to Erin today:

“My instinct is to skip it. It’s not even the Mexican Independence Day (that’s Sept. 16th). It’s just a celebration of a victory over the French. And, really, if we all celebrated victories over the French, we’d get awfully tired of celebrating.”

My Wife the Hockey Fan: Part 2

I picked the Penguins to beat the Rangers in 5 games; Erin picked the Pens in 6. Watching the game this afternoon:

Erin: Okay, today you go for Pittsburgh, and I go for the Rangers.
Me: Can we shit-talk?
Erin: Hell yeah! Fuck that little faggot Crosby… little Hummel-looking motherfucker.

If ever there was any question as to why I married Erin, it should have just evaporated.

Posted in Hockey. 2 Comments »

Dulles Getting Metro? Thanks, Jesus!

“The Bible describes faith as the substance of things hoped for. This certainly seems to fit in that category,” said Clark Tyler, chairman of the Tysons Land Use Task Force, which has spent years planning for development around rail. “We had faith that Metro was coming, and it looks like it’s going to.”

Washington Post

Yeah, because the Bible was written explicitly to address the regional need for light rail service to the area’s busiest airport. What about the FTA’s decision to fund the project bears celebration of religion?

That shit is completely unnecessary. Fucking fundies.

Oh, by the way, the “Jesus” in the title doesn’t refer to your “savior”. It refers to all the Hispanic men who will be performing exhausting manual labor for the next 5-7 years building the motherfucker… one of which is undoubtedly named Jesus (pron. Hay-soos).

What an Asshole!

“The resolution is clearly working. It is driving down the non-English-speaking portion of the schools and saving us millions of dollars. They’re going to other jurisdictions and costing them money.”

Quote from Corey A. Stewart, Chairman of the Prince William Board of County Supervisors in the Washington Post.

In context: Rules championed by him to (purportedly) combat illegal immigration are forcing Hispanics and/or Latinos to flee from PWCo.

Unfortunately for PWCo., many of those taking part in the exodus are legal Hispanics and/or Latinos.

Granted I have never spoken with the man, but I’m sure Stewart is myopically delighted at the efflux of brown people from his precious Prince William County, legal or not. Hell, his county has always been more red (in both the “state” and “neck” applications of the hue) than the rest of Northern Virginia.

I wonder how he’ll feel when his county draws lower revenues from sales, property, personal property, and proportion of Commonwealth income taxes (which is sure to factor into the state budget allocations).

I also wonder who mows his lawn.

Granted I have never spoken with the man, but I’m sure Stewart is a fucking racist hypocrite.

Brian Engblom is the New Barry Melrose

Ridiculous NHL talking-head coif versus older, ridiculous NHL talking head mullet. Thank $DEITY that Keith Jones knows a barber.

The Only Thing I can Say without Sounding Shallow

Does this tripe make The New Yorker if Avery plays in Phoenix? Not fucking likely. Also, how does such an egotistical prick pull off sounding kind of “normal guy” while–at the same time–being ultra-pretentious?

You’re an enigma, Sean Avery. And you’re trying too hard to be “interesting”.

Nota bene: I use “enigma” for lack of a better word. My vulgarity currently escapes me.

Any of my 4 readers have an appropriate noun or adjective?

My First Official Craving Sortie

Primary Objective: White cake (not of the pound variety) with white icing. Coconut cake from the frozen dessert section will have to do.

Secondary Objective: Fresh strawberries to compliment Primary Objective.

Tertiary Objective: Fresh cantaloupe. A slightly-less-ripened melon will have to do (I never purchased one before).

Results: “This is exactly… exactly what I wanted!”

Mission Accomplished.

Have I mentioned that Erin is pregnant?

Sudden Death: Caps/Flyers Game 7

Self ShotIt sucked when the Caps lost Game 7 at home, in overtime. They were up 1, tied, down 1, then tied at the end of the 2nd. There were no penalty calls for about 30 minutes, from a little over midway in the 2nd through 4 minutes into OT. Overtime is absolute victory or defeat; taking a penalty in overtime is almost certainly defeat. And that’s the way it shook out.

After the “aw, fuck!” silence from the stunned (and previously-deafening) crowd, we all stood up and gave the team an ovation.

Then the trash started raining down onto the ice. It was embarrassing. There’s even a clip of a Jeff Carter post-game, on-ice interview where he gets hit by a plastic beer bottle from the stands. As a Caps fan, I was pissed they lost to the Fuckin’ Flyers. But, as a Caps fan whose knuckles can clear a curb, I was more pissed at my “peers”.

Even worse, the guy who sits in row E (right in front of us) was in attendance with his young daughter, aged around 12 or 13. After the Flyers’ series-winning goal, a young boy about the same age as the aforementioned daughter ran to the glass in his Flyers jersey to celebrate. Row E guy then side-armed his empty beer cup at the overjoyed pre-teen, and kicked (hard!) the seats in row D. He’s normally a pretty nice guy, but his display last night takes him down multiple notches in my book. He was just a happy kid rooting for the other team, not a target for your anger, fuckhead.

The Caps fans weren’t any better outside the arena. Erin said she was on-edge as we walked around Verizon center, due to the density of very drunk, very angry red-clad assholes gushing obscenities at the minority wearing black and orange. I’ve never been to a live game of any sport in Philly, but I can only imagine last night’s bullshit was on par with some of the horror stories bandied about the city of brotherly love.

Anyway, I took some photos from the happier parts of the game.

Thoughts on the Caps’ Latest Playoff Performances

Fuck yeah!

Going to Game 7 in D.C. tomorrow.

That is all.