In accordance with prophecy

No school tomorrow, anywhere, basically— I’d bet close to 100% of the state’s districts will be closed tomorrow. I’m expecting to be snowed in all weekend and we’ll see what happens Monday.

I got all my prep for online learning done at work, so I’m trying to claw through Lord Of Chaos tonight. Everybody behave, mmmk?

Duckery

This is going to be another short post tonight, as I had a lengthy meeting after work, went to the comic shop, ate dinner, prepped for class tomorrow, and given that I still have to write this post it’s way too close to bedtime for comfort. I am Experimenting with my computer; after literal decades of brand loyalty I’ve switched my default search engine to DuckDuckGo, and I discovered along the way that they have a browser, too, so I’m typing this in that. On my home computer I mostly use Safari, and I use Chrome at work, at least partially to keep my work account and personal accounts a little bit more separate. I’m not sure where a DuckDuckGo browser would slot into that but we’ll see if I end up liking it any more than Google’s offerings.

Also potentially in the pipeline: I own all of my email domains, and if I can find a host that isn’t going to pollute my email with AI I might switch email hosts away from Gmail as well. That’s much more of an undertaking than playing with a new browser and a new Web search thingamabooper, though, so I’m going to wait until I have both time and patience before I attempt to make that switch. Especially since that would involve changing things on my phone, too, now that I think about it.

Tomorrow will be my second day at work this week and also my last day at work this week, as everyone is 100% certain that there’s no way we’ll have in-person school on Friday. I have told my kids that nothing short of the literal end of the world is preventing them from having a quiz on Friday; they can expect that if they don’t have internet I’m going to show up at their houses with a paper copy of the thing and then stand there impatiently while they take it. I thought at first we were only expected to get the hell-cold; I saw a map earlier that had us with another sixteen inches of snow, which is unacceptable. This storm is for the Southrons, damn it; I have cleared my driveway enough times for January. I can take the cold but God and I will have words if we get another foot of snow. And those words will be cross.

Sawdusty fun

Spent the evening at a local makerspace, one we’ve been to a few times now, learning how to use a bunch of woodworking tools. This was supposedly the safety class, and my wife, who works with OSHA regulations and compliance for a living, spent most of the evening twitching and visibly musing to herself about insurance rates. I just drilled holes in things and played with saws; I still have all my fingers so we’re good.

That said, it managed to be a long day despite being another snow day (cold as fuck outside; we’re going to have another one on Friday, watch) and so I’m going to cut this short and go curl up in a chair with a cat.

Possibly after changing my shirt.

Natty dread

I’m not watching. I’ve not watched an IU football game this year– in fact, I doubt I’ve watched an IU football game since I graduated(*)– and if I decide to start now, they’ll lose. In fact, I’m going to do my best to ignore the internet during the game so that I don’t even get any accidental score updates. Hell, it’s been years since I watched an IU basketball game, and it’s more than a little shocking to me that I can name IU football’s quarterback and coach and am no longer able to name the coach or even a single player on the basketball team.

Sadly, my lifelong dedication to being superstitious about sports is not the only reason to pay no attention to this game. I am deeply pissed at IU right now, and while it’s genuinely upsetting to be cutting ties with the university I graduated from and that I’ve loved for literally my entire life, the way IU has been conducting itself recently has been beyond the pale and I can’t accept it any longer. I’m going to start telling people I graduated from Purdue. It’s that bad.

On top of that, the more I’ve learned how college sports works now, and particularly how college football works now, the less I want to do with any of it. We basically have a good football team now because Mark Cuban bought us one. Seeing video of Fernando Mendoza showing off his new diamond Rolex earlier today was literally disgusting. I’d rather suck, frankly.

I dunno. This sort of feels like Old Man Yells at Cloud to some extent, but I’ve not been a sports guy for decades if I ever really was, and ignoring a national championship run has got to be the last of a really large number of nails in that coffin. This hasn’t been fun for a long time, and now it’s actively repulsive, and I’m out.

(*) Not true, apparently, as WordPress dug up a post from last year where I talk about watching IU play Notre Dame in the football playoffs, a game I have no recollection of at all and which we, of course, lost.

It’s cold outside so I’m reading

It’s cold as fuck outside and I’ve got an upset stomach, so I read all 700 pages of this today. I’m not sure that it’s a good book in an objective sort of sense but it was absolutely what I was looking for.

Now I have to read a Wheel of Time book, so I’m going to be miserable for a few days.

#REVIEW: We are Legion (We are Bob), by Dennis E. Taylor

I was not previously aware that printing the word “BOB” repeatedly on the edges of a book would cause me to impulse-buy it, but indeed, that’s what happened. Turns out the word “Bobiverse” is also a trigger; this is Book One of at least five, four of which have already been published as indie books. This is the tradpubbed edition; Book 2 will be out next week, and the next three are going to follow roughly bimonthly after that. My understanding is that #5 has only just been written, so that will be the first publication, but you can grab the first four right now if you want the indie versions.

This book was going to get some credit for originality, if nothing else; the idea is that Bob Johansson, the main (and virtually only) character, sells his tech company for Big Money at the beginning of the book, and more or less on a lark signs up for a cryogenics program. Once he dies his head gets lopped off and frozen, to await his eventual revival when technology catches up to fixing whatever killed him.

And then he dies, pretty much right away, rather ignominiously getting hit by a car. And he wakes up a hundred years later as an AI, a piece of property, and slated to be the controlling intelligence of a series of Von Neumann probes designed to find extraterrestrial planets suitable for humanity to move to. A Von Neumann probe, if you’re not aware, is a type of probe designed to be self-replicating; the idea is that it finds an asteroid or some other source of raw materials and creates another probe, which then flies off in a different direction, to create more probes, which then create more probes, which then create more probes, and on and on until something underpants-gnomey happens.

Bob is … less than thrilled by this development, and even less thrilled by the theocracy that America has turned into in the intervening hundred years (a bit on the nose there, Mr. Taylor) but he is an engineer and a software guy, so he’s able to hack his own programming so that once he escapes Earth’s direct control, he can more or less do whatever he wants. The interesting bit, of course, is that with every probe he creates, he has to effectively clone himself. He implements a rule where every successive Bob has to rename itself so that we don’t have a million characters with the same name running around, so one Bob is called Homer and another is Riker and so on (Bob is a big nerd) but they are all effectively him, if occasionally slightly tweaked from his base personality, so to speak.

The narrative fractures along with the Bobs, and by the end of the story we’re following, oh, three or four parallel stories, with a nice timeline in the front to help you keep everything straight: some of the Bobs have returned to Earth, now a post-apocalyptic nuclear wasteland, to help the remnants of humanity off of the planet; some of them, including Bob Prime, have found a planet with sentient life on it and are helping to nudge the inhabitants along against a competing species that finds them tasty, and others are hunting down the probes sent into space by Brazil, who immediately declare war upon the Bobs the first time they come across one another. There are a few other storylines that don’t get a ton of attention, but those are the big ones.

It’s a lot of fun, and I’ve got the rest of the series preordered, so I’ll get Bobiverse 2 next week and the rest of them as they come out. There’s only one real problem, and for right now, I’m cutting the series some slack, and we’ll see how he handles said issue in the future: at the beginning of the book, flesh-Bob is celebrating his windfall with a few friends, all of whom he’s cut in on the deal and who are also quite rich now, if not quite as flush as Bob is. They don’t have cryogenics money, is what I’m saying. One of those friends is female.

After Bob gets hit by the car, another woman does not have a single line for over two hundred pages.

All of the Bobs are male, of course, but even a large majority of the secondary characters are male. There are a few world leaders back on Earth, the intelligence controlling the Brazilian probes, a couple of doctors who Bob deals with before leaving the planet, and a couple of named members of the species Bob discovers. All but maybe two or three of those are male, and most of the females don’t really get a whole lot of time on the page, sometimes just a line or two before they disappear. A female descendant of Bob’s sister shows up and gets less than a paragraph before she’s whisked offstage, for example. Now, again, Dennis Taylor has gone to some lengths to make it clear that the Bobs aren’t exact replicas of one another, but they’re all versions of his personality, one way or another; I find myself wondering if Bob is going to find a way to create female clones of himself in the next book. Inside the story logic, I’m not completely convinced it matters, as Bob doesn’t actually have a flesh body any longer; he’s a space ship. But he’s certainly culturally male even if he doesn’t have a gendered body any longer, and, I dunno, maybe the smart bat-pig alien could have been a girl?

Again, I enjoyed the book, and Bob’s hardly a hypermasculine alpha male, so it’s not as if the book is dripping with testosterone or anything. The Wheel of Time has a ton of female characters and is somehow a much more gender-essentialist, masculinist series, for example, and Ken Liu’s Dandelion Dynasty also started off very man-heavy and corrected it completely in the second book. But I’ve got an eyebrow up, and I hope this gets addressed in future books. So consider this a three-quarters thumbs up, if that makes any sense, and I’ll try and get For We Are Many read quickly when it shows up so that I can report back.

Taking tonight off

Everybody behave until I get back.

This again

It was sixty degrees outside last week, so naturally this morning I woke up to, depending on where I measured, between ten and eighteen inches of snow on my driveway and front lawn. The driveway was still so warm that once the sun came out it completely dried off; there’s not a spot of snow or ice on my driveway right now. Despite that, my mailbox is still annoyingly inaccessible; the battery on the blower died before I got to it and I never went back out after charging it. Hopefully the mailman forgives me tomorrow.

Anyway, I taught from home today for the first time in a few years. I haven’t missed it.

I’ve been weirdly jumpy and out of sorts all evening, for no clear reason. I’m pretty sure we’re going to have a regular school day tomorrow– it’s 7:30 and none of the nearby districts have so much as called a delay yet– so I probably ought to get on putting together some sort of lesson plan. Maybe then I’ll go to bed early; it feels super late for some reason and there’s no reason to sit around and kvetch all night.