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Yesteryear

Saturday, September 22, 2012

September 22, 2012


           Here is something most have never seen before. It is a chart of Rule 30, the original pseudo-random number generator. Those who have played the boring game “Life” might recognize the concept. There are ten rows of squares, and each row is dependent on the one above it, following a set of rules. Here’s a link to this particular version of Rule 30.

           [Author's note 2017: that link above quit working. This is always a hazard for long-term blogging. But the web site still exists and is an interesting site for microcontroller fans. It is called makeyourownchip.com.]

           If you can follow it, you are smart. If not, there are three important things. First, each row is unique, it never repeats (although the left side is always two reds). Second, the center COLUMN is random. Third, to know the color of the center square, say the billionth square, there is no formula to calculate the color. That is, you have to calculate the rows one by one up to the billion.

           To generate a random number, the computer picks three clock bits and checks to see of one of them is non-zero. It isn’t obvious, but the first row is three squares. The red one, and the two white ones on either side. If you are interested, the guy who came up with the Rule was 24 at the time, Stephen Wolfram. He developed business models that made him rich, and he walked away from it. You might want to research his life. He is the archetypical drop-out, visionary, and numbers guru. True, he also had enough money to attend Oxford, but other than that, he made it on his own.
           The thunder woke me up at dawn, just as well, since that is when people started dropping by. If you know what to look for, you can see my parking spot from the highway, meaning I’m home. Agt. M. was first, we went over the trove of electronic parts I brought back. Then over to the bakery for brunch, I had my traditional Trump the Trump. And I had to practically promise to call the blonde lady for a date, I don’t know if I explained that one. Probably, but I don’t remember.

           That goes to show you ladies, if you are not enthusiastic from the get-go, you fade quickly. I’m not about to knock myself out for any woman who doesn’t make my life more exciting than it already is. Tell you what, I’ll document this one to a degree, nothing personal to the person, but to record how this date fits with my experiences and my predictions. Trust me, and it’s happened before, a woman with anything going for her only needs to walk up to me and introduce herself. Women who have trouble meeting men are bad judges of character.
           I unloaded the rig during a lull, that’s when Agt. M showed up. We had to hold the club meeting in the rain to catch up and all we could decide in the time available is he is looking further into IP addressing, I am going to read a manual on Linux. Next big item being discussed is small engine repair. I mean lawn mowers, everyone else means motorcycle engines. My task is to look on line, but somehow I know I’ll get nothing but junk. A search on “small engine repair course” turns up three pages of indexes, not one of which is an outfit that actually runs a school. It is maddening because I know if I could find the training, I could write a search engine that defeats such asinine money-grubbers. I call on-line searches the “Idiot Barrier”. You have to break through it to get anywhere.

           I mean, have you seen the personal information these schools want on you before they’ll even talk? (They want enough data to do a credit check as they can figure out from that how much school you can “afford”, then put the screws to you.) I’m specifically looking for a school with a shop and a simple, hands-on course on rebuilding motors. No diploma, no ID, no lock-in, no credit check. I pay the money, show up, and it’s all over in six weeks. Just try to find that in America, where every question about school is twisted into a sales lead. What is it with those people?
           Time to move. The first notice in my mailbox is a rent increase and a lame explanation that all the other places also raised their rent. That’s a stupid reason. You should lower your rent and fill the park up. You’ll be making real money then, but of course, that fact is too difficult for the grade eight mind. At any rate, it is time to look for a mortgage since the increase is over my rental limit. At best, this location was temporary anyway, I have no ties to the property other than my money.
           Bingo was fun tonight. My absence loosened a few sticky items, but in reality, you’ll have to check back in a few days to see what worked. Let’s just say the gas budget for October has just been taken care of.

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