Even More Wood Chopping

Once again, I did not get as far along as I hoped I would with the wood chopping. I did get one awkward piece carved up, but then mightily struggled with other pieces.

To start:

I can see more of the ground underneath the wood pile, so that's progress. Maybe I can do some more tomorrow.

These logs have got an awful lot of branches poking out of them, and they go deep. I mean deep; I've never seen logs like this. Part of the reason they've been hard to split is because I spend most of the time pounding through the inner branches. Absolutely painful.

I did, of course, run into more trouble. I ended up driving both of these wedges into the wood and had to bash the bottom of the log with another wedge before everything finally fell apart. Not visible in the picture: The *fourth* wedge buried in the front of the nearest log.

Chunk Knows

It's a cliche, but it's true.

Getting mail and messages and phone calls as such as a kid was a lot of fun. Each was an event tied with excitement and mystery.

Getting such things today:

Today's was from the insurance company. Keep bracing for a rate hike. But it was just the insurance card for our youngest's new truck. Expect the worst, hope for the best I guess.

The Word "Furlough" Has Been Used . . .

So I was ill last week and took two days off work.

Came back today and discovered the word "furlough" was used in a meeting on Thursday.

No details offered. No timeline. No word whether this means work without pay or if we're to use our holiday and personal leave to make up for what the government hasn't appropriated.

Don't know what to think except if the expectation is the latter while working, I'm just going to take the time off. I don't feel like I need to burn through vacation and holiday time because the government can't seem to find it's butt with both hands this time around. Maybe if they reimburse. But I'm not holding my breath. We have a Congress and a president who seem content to watch the world burn.

Maybe they will see some burning.

So we wait, I guess. I have little hope any compromise will be found because those in charge are still getting paid and thus have no incentive to make progress. They only seem to be listening to the constituent voices who support them, which shouldn't shock me, I guess, but a guy can dream. The blame game is all they're interested in.

On Feedback from C.S. Lewis

[Of C.S. Lewis's comments on The Lord of the Rings]

When he would say "You can do better than that. Better, Tolkien, please!" I would try. I'd sit down and write the section over and over. That happened with the scene I think is the best in the book, the confrontation between Gandalf and his rival wizard, Saruman, in the ravaged city of Isengard.

I do not think the Saruman passage is the best in the book. It is much better than the first draft, that is all. I mentioned the passage becase it is in fact one of the very few places where in the event I found [Lewis's] detailed criticisms useful and just. I cut out some passages of light-hearted hobbit conservation which he found tiresome, thinking that if he did most of the readers (if any) would feel the same. I do not think the event has proved him right. To tell the truth he never really liked hobbits very much, least of all Merry and Pippin. But a great number of readers do, and would like more than they have got.

(From the Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien, Letter No. 294, 1967)

Important stuff here:

1. Get feedback and take it seriously. Keep on writing, but keep on getting feedback too.

2. Know when to ignore the feedback you get.

I know this is basic stuff, but it's good to hear it from a writer of Tolkien's caliber.

Well, AI, You Tried

So earlier today I googled to see who is running for mayor of Ammon in 2025.

Google's AI came up with this:

Funny thing is: Just about none of this is accurate.

Mayor Coletti announced in June he wouldn't seek re-election.

No one named Fuhriman is running for mayor this year. Steve Fuhriman, in fact, was mayor in the mid 20-teens.

There are only two council seats in the ballot; seats 2 and 4.

AI *did* get the numbers of the open seats right. But that appears about it.

It's Only Bad when *THEY* Do It

Gerrymandering when "they" do it:

A loathsome practice that disenfranchises voters, empowers the enemy and is generally an underhanded practice that we can all generally agree shouldn't be done.

Gerrymandering when "we" do it:

We have to gerrymander because when we do it everyone has butterflies and rainbows coming out their navel and it's at best a noble practice meant to prevent the enemy from gaining ground and at worst a necessary evil we have to stoop to because *they* are doing it.

Someone make it make sense.

Slight Setback, Temporarily

Slight setback today as I worked yet again to cut up the wood left over from the front yard spruce tree.

I got the second wedge to make sure I could split these big logs (they look big, but they're only about a foot thick. Still).

There was only one thing to do: Go to Ace Hardware and get two more wedges, but true wedges this time, not the diamond wedges. Figured they would concentrate the splitting force in fewer directions.

And it worked. I still have half of the log to split, but the wedges are free and I'm refining my technique.

I've spent about $50 on additional wedges, but Zundel wanted $300 to haul the firewood off, so I'm still saving money. And getting some good cardio in to boot.

Harry Mudd Warned Us. He Warned Us All.

Researchers from Texas A&M, the University of Texas, and Purdue University conclude in a study that "continual pre-training on junk web text induces lasting cognitive decline in LLMs."

A few news outlets, including Gizmodo and Ars Technica, have written about the study.

Most of what I quote here on out is from Ars Technica.

The results showed that adding more “junk data” to the training sets had a statistically significant effect on the reasoning and long-context benchmarks across models. The effects were more mixed on the other benchmarks, though. For example, a 50/50 mix of “junk” and control data used for the Llama 8B model generated better scores on some benchmarks (ethical norms, high Openness, low Neuroticism, and Machiavellianism) than either “fully junk” or “fully control” training data sets.

Based on these results, the researchers warn that “heavily relying on Internet data leads LLM pre-training to the trap of content contamination.” They go on to “call for a re-examination of current data collection from the Internet and continual pre-training practices” and warn that “careful curation and quality control will be essential to prevent cumulative harms” in future models.

Gizmodo takes it a bit further:

And wouldn’t you know it, it turns out that consuming directly from the internet landfill that is X isn’t great for thinking clearly. All four models tested—Llama3 8B, Qwen2.5 7B/0.5B, Qwen3 4B—showed some forms of cognitive decline. Meta’s Llama proved the most sensitive to the junk, seeing drops in its reasoning capabilities, understanding of context, and adherence to safety standards. Interestingly, a much smaller model, Qwen 3 4B, proved more resilient, though still suffered declines. It also found that the higher the rates of bad data, the more likely a model was to slip into “no thinking” mode, failing to provide any reasoning for its answer, which was more likely to be inaccurate.

This, of course, tracks. Humans, consuming a lot of "junk" will also exhibit these traits. It all goes back to the old computer standard of "Garbage In, Garbage Out."

Harry Mudd, of course knew this all along. Once Spock showed him the way:

As usal, my friend Curtis Clark nails it:

"I Like Me."

"It's the face you put on the world that defines who you are. The face he puts on the world is friendly and happy. And you could be mean, or insult people, or fight back. But he didn't."

Steve Martin, speaking of John Candy.

I'm watching tonight "I Like Me," a documentary about the life of John Candy.

I'll admit I wasn't much into movies or actors or much of that stuff when I was younger. I'd watch television, and go to an occasional movie. But it's stuff that just happened and I was occasionally interested in it.

But John Candy. Well, I saw, maybe, a bit of myself in him, or someone I wanted to be.

Still, I watched his movies at random, not really seeking him -- or anyone else -- out.

Then came Uncle Buck.

The lovable, down-to-earth oaf. Maybe that was something to aspire to.

He was human. He wasn't cool or flashy. He was honest and real and funny. He was something I wanted to be: At ease with himself and with what he was doing. I'm still looking for that, and it's hard to do. John Candy made it look easy.

"He stuck acting in his back pocket and behaved like a human being."

Mel Brooks, on John Candy

He was kind. But didn't brook nonsense, whether it was someone talking down to a kid or someone being unsure about what they wanted to do.

He'd probably tell me to write that book, and stop dittling around with writing. Just write the thing. Do it. Don't try to do it. Do it.

"I grew up with someone who was already a successful actor. Who had made it. The thing that was so big, and such a big secret, was that he didn't believe in himself. How fucking human is that?"

Chris Candy, John Candy's son

It *is* human. It's me.

Maybe that's why I love John Candy so much.

I want to say, like him, "I like me." But I'm not there yet. Working on it.

"I dreamed about him more than I ever dreamed about my parents after they died. And one of the first dreams I had about John, we were just hanging out and laughing and talking and doing bits, and it was really funny. And I said something like, 'Aww, why'd you have to die?' And he said 'Why'd you have to bring it up?'"

Catherine O'Hara, speaking of John Candy

"You're a fairly funny guy."

"Well thank you, and so are you. That's a nice thing to say to somebody. 'You're a funny guy.' It's better than saying 'you're a jerk.' I'll take funny guy any time. 'You know, you're an ass. Thank you.'"

An interviewer and John Candy

Nothingburger

Remember this?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Maybe I'm being shut out. I'm fine with that.

Maybe they're preparing to give me the boot. Honestly, aside from the stress of having to find a new job, okay then.

I suspect there's a little recognition that the training I've received has been subpar. But you never know.

Why *does* Exeter have a picture of a burger on his wall?

300th Post

This is my 300th post for 2025.

Why is that a big deal? I haven't had 300 posts in a year since 2011.

Not that my posts are all that great. But the blog does give me an outlet of sorts.

"What Would an Answer to This Sound Like?"

So this is important to remember about large language models: They're only working on "what would an answer to this question sound like?"

It certainly doesn't know it's "wrong;" it has no idea what right or wrong is. When you ask it to correct itself, it just goes back to programming: What would an answer to this sound like? That's all it'll ever come up with.

It's *Still* an Ash

So just over a month ago we decided that the big tree in the back yard is an ash.

Then a bit later we had Zundel Tree Service come do some work in the front yard, mainly taking down a spruce tree and giving our paper birch a good haircut. I was at work when they came, so we had Liam be the front man. We asked them to look at the ash and the apricot tree in the back yard to see what they suggested to help them out.

We learned the ash was being attacked by borers. I thought at the time it meant it would have to come down.

But Zundel came back again today for a consult, and they suggested applying an insecticide and fertiliser mix at the base of the tree to see if we can kill the beetles and help the tree live longer.

I'm all for that. I didn't want to see the ash come down. I really didn't want to see the spruce come down, but it was really making a mess of things with the sap and needles.

So I got the recommended mixture and treated the tree today. Hopefully next spring we'll see some results. I've got enough of the stuff to do a second treatment next year.

"Can I Come Too?"

 

Aside from the poor laid-off co-worker, looking back at this time I consider them the halcyon days in my current job.

I'd built up enough experience and credibility among management both there and in town to be trusted as the sole tech writer, taking the Accelerated Retrieval Project through, I believe, four more ARP iterations. Three of them, as I recall, totally on my own.

Were the documents perfect? No. They're not perfect now. But they were good enough to get the job done, and that was a good feeling.

Some days were hectic, with document changes needed almost immediately, often within hours, sometimes before the end of the day.

I didn't complain. I just did the work because I enjoyed my co-workers, the relative freedom from oversight, and the general feeling that what I was doing was making a contribution to a big project.

Those feelings have faded over time.

I'm trying to learn new things.

But the trust has eroded a bit. As has the git'r done attitude.

In fact, I await castigation on Monday for a job poorly done in which I was poorly trained and not given much time to practice. Not that the latter two will matter all that much.

I have co-workers from the better days who have moved on, who have retired. Whenever I interact with them, this is what I feel:

That's at least ten years down the road, depending on the economy and so many other factors it makes my lips numb just thinking about it.

A friend says he can work at any job for about ten years, but after that it gets harder. I've been at this job for in the neighborhood of 16 years. The "getting harder" part is here in spades.

"Risking National Bankruptcy to Buy A Desert"

From Stephen E. Ambrose's "Undaunted Courage," which focuses on the Lewis and Clark Expedition, offered as a balm in this, the stupidest timeline:

When [John] Adams wrote that the [Louisiana] Purchase "gave a new face to politics," he meant that it signified the end of the Federalist Party, which was so shortsighted and partisan that many of its representatives criticized the act. Alexander Hamilton was wise to content himself with remakring that Jefferson had just been lucky. The Purchase, he said, resulted from "the kind interpositions of an overruling Providence." But a Boston Federalist newspaper did not like the dea at all: it called Louisiana "a great waste, a wilderness unpeopled with any beings except wolves and wandering Indians. We are to give money of which was have too little for land of which we already have too much." Jefferson was risking national bankruptcy to buy a desert.

Angry partisanship was the order of the day. Senator John Quincy Adams complained in his diary, "The country is so totally given up to the spirit of party, that not to follow blindfold the one or the other is an inexpiable offence." But the New England Federalists were putting themselves on the wrong side of history to poopse the Purchase. One denounced it as "a great curse," and another feared that the Purchase "threatens, at no very distant day, the subversion of our Union."

Of course we're seeing the same kind of crap today. The "other side" can do nothing right, wile "our side" can do no wrong.

And sometimes I participate in it. I need to stop.

So, is it Actually Working?

I decided to check up on the parts of the lawn I did the leveling in a few weeks ago.

It's actually looking better than I expected:

Lots of bare spots, but they are shrinking, with grass growing in around the edges. I think doing this after the heat of summer was over was a good idea.

And in the bigger bare spots, I can see grass poking through in the middle.

Pardon the weeds, I need to spray again but we've had a rainy fall so far so spraying won't do any good.

Clutter

Cleanliness may be next to godliness, but clutter is the mother of inspiration.

Continued Gaslighting

Representative Simpson,

So I note this in your letter:

"I stand with FCC Chairman Carr on ensuring accuracy and respect when reporting on such sensitive topics from all American media outlets."

That's a funny way to say you stand for an arm of the federal government violating the right to free speech, which you should know is protected by the First Amendment.

Note the First Amendment doesn't qualify what free speech is, which you attempt to do in your reply. The amendment doesn't say we have a right to free speech that the government sanctions, or that doesn't hurt someone's feelings. We have a right to free speech, full stop. And that right ought to be protected by the government, not infringed.

Sincerely yours,

An increasingly dissatisfied constituent,

Brian Davidson

I'm A Little Tired after This . . .

Worked on the back yard some more today, after some delays. Rain, mostly.

It's supposed to rain tomorrow too, so I thought getting some done today would be a good idea, since I've got the sprinklers shut off now so I can use the rain to help settle the sand.

Judging by the area I did today, I have about twice that much to finish, then the back yard is done. Front yard should be a lot easier, but that's going to be done next year, unless we have an Indian summer.

Back yard maybe I'll do some more tomorrow, if it's not raining too much.

Front yard, I still have to finish getting the wood from the spruce carved up and hauled into the back yard.

Today was three loads of wet sand.

No Gloompraying, Please

A ponderable:

A person of faith asks for prayers.

Aside from the secular scoffers, there tend to be two major reactions:

1. Prayers are said sincerely.

2. WHAT IS HAPPENING OHMYGISHOHMYGOSH IS SHE DYING?

I pray for people all the time, some of them with health struggles. Those in my prayers may or may not be facing a cataclysm; prayer isn't and shouldn't be reserved for calamity.

Pessimism isn't a good look.

Reality in prayer is just fine.

That's where hope comes in. Hope for the best. Work towards the best. But reality is not all prayers will be answered in the way we hope.

But we hope nonetheless.

A Lie is Wrong, Even if it Helps You

Artificial Intelligence slop spotted in the wild tonight.

On a Facebook page called "Joker Inspiration," a story meant to enrage and tug at the heartstrings (in other words, to drive clicks and revenue).

Something with verisimilitude, but with enough AI slop to convince me something stinks.

My response:

I won't dispute medical bills like this are a huge problem in the United States.

Another huge problem is folks using AI for manipulative purposes. And this photo has AI in spades.

First, the mangled "medical center" text folks have already mentioned.

Second, the tree logo, which appears was used by Enloe Medical Center as recently as 2003, is not being used by Enloe Medical Center now.

This can't be a contemporary bill for October 2025 with the logo being out of date.

Since a chump like me could spend a few minutes googling a few things to identify the AI falsehoods here, it throws the rest of this example's truthfulness into question.

I don't deny medical care in this country is absolutely nutty and unfair, but using AI falsehoods to promote the narrative undermines the veracity here.

"Medical Center" (yellow circle)

Old logo:

Lower yellow circle shows this dated 2023. Link is here.

Current logo:

"How Are You?"

Two months in from the return to the office after 5 1/2 years of successfully doing the job remotely, I can attest the following:

1. Meetings are easier to get to.

2. My mental health is worse.

Now, I have to say that maybe it's the seasonal depression creeping in a little early this year. Or maybe it's that Michelle was passed over for two technical writing jobs with the company and the only hint I might have as to why is a co-worker flapping a company policy about spouses not working together in the same department in my face. Because apparently we could do dastardly things in a highly-controlled document editing environment.

But no, I think it's the "off remote work" thing.

I may need to explore whether I can work from home one day a week. But I'm still irked the situation had to change at all. I mean, I get it. In a sense. And I'm glad I have a job. Don't get me wrong there. Still.

At least I'm not like those poor guys on the Russian front, as Dad would say. I watched him get the Sunday Scaries enough to know.

I was going to post the first three paragraphs of this on social media, but self-censored. Better here where nobody reads things.

It's too quiet here, for starters.

People keep coming by in the quiet and talk to other people about how they're leaving this company - a fresh quote today: "Working here has sucked all the joy out of life."

I stay because I've seen the local job market for people of my skill set and advanced age and know it just ain't gonna happen.

I used to enjoy this job. It was a fun challenge, working to help the projects move forward. But those projects - as projects do - ended. But I still need a job. Now, it's less fun. Much more time spent swatting at flies than feeling like I'm helping.

Maybe some of that is on me.

But some of it ain't.

I don't know that I want them to send a squad to help.

Gone? Gone! HE'S NEVER GONE!

Currently, a mood:

You think you're out of something - say Scouting America. But no. Gone? Gone! I'M NEVER GONE.

Or not really allowed to leave. Because of loyalties and other things that are complicated but there's always a damned me-sized hole that needs to be filled.

Others get out. Because of reasons. But not me. Not me.

*Sigh*

 With a *lot* of apologies to Richard Scarry.

I Hope that I Get Old Before I Die

Clear off the kitchen table, darling.

For on the kitchen table I must lie.

I'm just tired for my wife

Served the banquet of my life

and I hope that I get old before I die.

~They Might Be Giants, "I Hope that I Get Old Before I Die"

This is enduring to the end.

This is remembering that the problems I have are small and manageable and mostly only irritations, compared to the shattering woes of so many, many others out there.

My woes:

1. Oldest son has a dead battery in his van.

2. The tree that got cut down a few weeks ago, there's still a lot of firewood from it in the front yard, and chopping it up with the wedge and sledgehammer is proving to be tougher than I expected.

3. I'm a little tired of the relatively easy, good-paying job that I have.

4. I'm a little tired of the side gig I have, grading papers.

5. It's snowing in the mountains not too far from here, and here is is only early October.

6. The ash in the back yard is being killed by beetles.

7. I still have a lot of sand to haul in and spread to level the back yard.

8. The basement bathroom -- one of four functioning bathrooms in the house -- isn't finished being remodeled yet.

So yeah. It's hard to join this pity party because there's not really all that much to pity here.

"Sarah's Right. Kids Need Humans."

 

I've been watching old Scooby Doo episodes on and off for the last few days because I'm a grown man who can watch what he wants to, dammit.

I remember this episode with the "kooky Martian" who makes the weird Jetsons computer noises when he walks. But I had no idea how prescient this episode would be in the whole artificial intelligence debate.

Of course, robots then, robots now.

Not to spoil the ending, but as this is a Scooby Doo cartoon you already know one of the characters introduced at the beginning is responsible for the shenanigans: The caretaker invented Charlie, the "perfect robot" to take on all the jobs at the fair, but his spinster sister made Charlie go haywire because she believed that artificial intelligence shouldn't be working around kids.

A bit simplistic, yes. But when I see my college students use large language models to write their essays for them, I have to echo her cranky, Luddite sentiment. Daphne gets the money line: "Sarah's right. Kids need humans."

I *do* like that Velma is behind the wheel of the electromagnet Jeep.

And I love that Sarah says roh-butt, just like Zoidberg.

DRAMA on the Ring App

On the Ring Camera social media app (because of COURSE the Ring Camera folks have a social media app), drama this week.

A person posted about a delivery service dropping a package off at the wrong house.

Then, this:

Now given we are in the stupidest timeline, there are a few possibilities here:

1. Neighbor6 is just trolling and does not have the package.

2. Neighbor6 is not trolling and does have the package.

I suspect this will die on the vine right here. But part of me wants to drive through the neighborhood where the message originates from so I can spot the house. But that could cause drama of its own, given the aforementioned stupidest timeline. So I'll file it under "nunyabidness," but I will keep watching the thread, just in case.

Red Vines

Give or take, they tell me Saturn is roughly 886 million miles from Earth.

Give or take, they tell me Iapetus is roughly two million, two hundred twelve thousand, six hundred and ten miles from Saturn.

So, on a good day, when Saturn and Earth are on opposite sides of the Sun, and Iapetus is on the Neptune side of Saturn, it's a fair bet to say I am over a billion miles from Earth.

But not the Earth in my head.

No. That remains terrifyingly and constantly close. They try to tell me black holes have commanding gravitational wells, but no gravitational well is deeper than that of the singularity in my head.

And aye, there be terrors there. Far worse than the choking almond smell of the leaky refuges I've blasted out of Iapetus' crust and mountains. Far worse than the funk of the space suits I use regularly when the memories of one refuge become overwhelming and I have to flee to the gravitational hell of another.

My therapist says I shouldn't write when I'm in such a mood. But I have to write something. That well is always seeking new information, new experiences it can dredge up and torment me with later on.

Oh, there are some beauties.

But I don't wish to dwell.

Dwell. That's a funny word. Dwell dwell dwell. It's like an echo. Or the sound of a slightly flat ball bouncing. Or of rabbits kissing, if memory serves.

If memory serves.

At the Alamo, ironically, is where I remember the least. But I spend little time there, maybe a few weeks a year, for fear that the memories will reach escape velocity and nest in the friable walls and leave no place on Iapetus free of Earth-shine. Only to settle in again. Again. To dwell.

There are a few things I miss. Conditionallly.

Dogs, I miss dogs. Not when they want to go to bed or need to go outside and bug me about both, mooking somewhere in the corner when I'm trying to get something else done. But I miss the *idea* of dogs, who like to run and bark and sniff and do the things that dogs do besides the mooking.

And the feel of sunshine. Oh, there's sunshine. But it's like Thursday. Out here, it has no feel.

Red licorice, I miss. It's extremely hard to come by in my corner of the solar system. I'm lucky enough to get fresh water that's not laced with the resident cyanide. So I try not to complain.

But I would kill for a theater box of Red Vines.