Skip to content

Abstractions, Climbing and Coding

I vividly remember a conversation I had in the late 1990s with a friend in college. He was an old school traditional rock climber; he was born and raised in Grand Teton National Park. We were discussing technology and the changes it wreaks on activities, particularly climbing. He was talking about sport climbing. (For those of you not in the know, there are several different types of outdoor rock climbing. The two I’ll be referring to today are sport climbing and traditional, or trad, climbing. Sport climbers clip existing protection to ensure their safety; traditional climbers insert their own protection gear into cracks.) He was not bagging on sport climbing, but was explaining to me how it opened up the sport of climbing. A rock climber did not need to spend as much money acquiring equipment nor as much time learning to use protection safely. Instead, with sport climbing, one could focus on the act of climbing.

At that moment it struck me that what he was saying was applicable to HTML generation tools (among many, many other things). During that period, I was just becoming aware of some of the WYSIWYG tools available for generating HTML (remember, in the late 1990s, the web was still gaining momentum; I’m not even sure MS Word had ‘Save As HTML’ until Word 97). Just like trad versus sport, there was an obvious trade off to be made between hand coding HTML and using a tool to generate it. The tool saved the user time, but acted as an abstraction layer, clouding the user’s understanding of what was actually happening. In other words, when I coded HTML from hand, I understood everything that was going on. On the other hand, when I used a tool, I was able to make snazzier pages, but didn’t understand what was happening. Let’s just repeat that—I was able to do something and have it work, all without understanding why it worked! How powerful is that?

This trend, towards making complicated things easier happens all the time. After all, the first cars were difficult to start, requiring hand cranking, but now I just get in the car and turn the key. This abstraction process is well and good, as long as we realize it is happening and are willing to accept the costs. For there are costs, in climbing, but also in software. Joel has something to say on this topic. I saw an example of this cost myself a few months ago, when Tomcat was not behaving as I expected, and I had to work around an abstraction that had failed. I also saw a benefit to this process of abstraction when I was right out of school. In 1999, there was not the body of frameworks and best practices that currently exist. There was a lot of invention from scratch. I saw a shopping cart get built, and wrote a user authentication and authorization system myself. These were good experiences, and it was much easier to support this software, since it was understood from the ground up by the authors. But, it was hugely expensive as well.

In climbing terms, I saw this trade off recently when I took a friend (a much better climber than I) trad climbing. She led a pitch far below her climbing level, and yet was twigged out by the need to place her own protection. I imagine that’s exactly how I would feel were I required to fix my brakes or debug a compiler. Dropping down to a lower abstraction takes energy, time, and sometimes money. Since you only have a finite amount of time, you need to decide at what abstraction level you want to sit. Of course, this varies depending the context; when you’re working, the abstraction level of Visual Basic may be just fine, because you just need to get this small application written (though you shouldn’t expect such an application to scale to multiple users). When you’re climbing, you may decide that you need to dig down to the trad level of abstraction in order to go the places you want to go.

I recently read an interview with Richard Rossiter, who has written some of the canonical guidebooks for front range area climbing. When asked where he thought “climbing was going” Rossiter replied: “My guess is that rock climbing will go toward safety and predictability as more and more people get involved. In other words, sport climbing is here to stay and will only get bigger….” A wise prediction; analogous to my prediction that sometimes understanding the nuts and bolts of an application simply isn’t necessary. I sympathize. I wouldn’t have wanted to go climbing with hobnail boots and manila ropes, as they did in the old days; nor would I have wanted to have to write my own compiler, as many did in the 1960s. And, as my college friend pointed out, sport climbing does make climbing in general safer and more accessible; you don’t have to invest a ton of time learning how to fiddle with equipment that will save your life. At the same time, unless you are one of the few who places bolts, you are trusting someone else’s ability to place equipment that will save your life. Just like I’ve trusted DreamWeaver to create HTML that’s readable by browsers—if it does not, and I don’t know HTML, I have few options.

Note, though, that it is silly for folks who sit at one level of abstraction to denigrate folks at another. After all, what is the real difference between someone using a compiler and someone using DreamWeaver? They’re both trying to get something done, using something that they probably don’t understand. (And if you understand compilers, do you understand chip design? How about photo-lithography? Quantum mechanics? Everyone uses things they don’t understand at some level.)

It is important, however, to realize that even if you are using a higher abstraction level, there’s a certain richness and joy that can’t be achieved unless you’re at the lower level. (The opposite is true as well—I’d hate to deal with strings instead of classes all the time; sport climbing frees me to enjoy movement on the rock.) Lower levels tend to be more complicated (that’s what abstraction does—hides complex ‘stuff’ behind a veneer of simplicity), so fewer folks enjoy the benefits of, say, trad climbing or compiler design. Again, depending on context, it may be well worth your while to dip down and see whether an activity like climbing or coding can be made more fulfilling by attacking it at a lower level. You’ll possibly learn a new skill, which, in the computer world can be a career helper, and in the climbing world may save your life at some time. You’ll also probably appreciate the higher level activities if and when you head back to that level, because you’ll have an understanding of the mental and temporal savings that the abstraction provides.

Passwords and authentication

Passwords are omnipresent, but just don’t work the way they should. A password should be a private string that only a user could know. It should be easy to remember, but at the same time hard to guess. It should be changed regularly, and only passed over a secure connection (SSL, ssh). At least, that’s what the password policies I’ve seen say. People, however, get in the way.

I have a friend who always has the same password: ‘lemmein’. She is non-technical. Whenever she tries to sign in to a system, she has invariably forgotten her password. She tries different incarnations, and eventually becomes so frustrated, she just types ‘lemmein’ and, voila, she is logged in.

I have another friend who is a computer security professional (or was). He has the same issue with forgotten passwords, but rather than have one insecure password, he keeps all his passwords in a file on a machine that he controls, protected by one master password. In this way, he only has to remember the one password, yet machines aren’t at risk.

I sympathize with both my friends, since, off the top of my head, I can easily think of ten different passwords that I currently use, for various systems and applications. In fact, the growth of the web applications (since the address bar is the new command line) has exploded the number of passwords that I have to remember.

I’m not as blase about security as my first buddy, nor as together as my second friend, so I just rely on my memory. That works, sometimes. Often, if I seldom visit a site that requires a password, I’ll always make use of the ‘mail me my password’ functionality that most such sites have. I won’t even bother to try to remember the password.

Sometimes, password changes are imposed on you. I’ve been at places where your password had to be changed every three weeks, and must be different rom your previous three passwords. I was only there for a short period of time, but I’m sure that there are some folks who are cycling passwords (‘oh, it’s one of these four, I know it’).

On the other hand, I worked at a place for three years; I had access to a number of web servers, often with sudo, yet I changed my passwords two times. It was just such a tremendous hassle to try to bring all my passwords in sync. (Yes, yes, we should have had an LDAP server responsible for all those passwords; that would have made changing it easier. There are some technical solutions that can ease password pain, at least within one organization.)

Passwords are even used in the ‘real world’ now. Leaving aside the obvious example of ATM pins, my bank won’t let me do anything serious to my account over the phone unless I know my password.

Passwords do have tremendous advantages. They let me authenticate myself without being physically present. They’re easy to carry with you. Computers don’t need special hardware or software to authenticate a user via a password. Everyone understands the concept. But passwords are really the least of the evils when it comes to authenticating remote users (/entities). They’re easy to pass around, or steal, since they’re aren’t physical. Passwords are either easy to forget or easy to crack.

I guess my solution has been to break up my passwords into levels. For simple things like logging into web applications, I have one or two very easy to remember passwords, or I use the ‘mail me my password’ functionality mentioned above. For more sensitive accounts that I use regularly, computer logins where I’m an administrator of some kind, my email, or web applications where my credit card details are viewable, I’ll have some more complicated password, which may or may not be shared among similar systems. And for other systems where I need a good password but don’t use it regularly, I’ll write it down and store it in a safe place.

Passwords are certainly better than using SSN, zip code, or some other arbitrary single token that could be stolen. But they certainly aren’t the optimal solution. I actually used a userid/biometric solution at a client’s office (for the office door) and it rejected me a very small percentage of the time. The overhead to add me to the system was apparently fairly substantial, since it took weeks for this to happen. For situations where the hardware is available and deployed, biometric solutions seem like a good fit.

No one, however, is going to add finger/eye/palm scanners to every machine that I want to access, to say nothing of various interesting remote applications (I want my travelocity!). Some scheme where you login to a single computer that then generates a certificate that uniquely identifies you (something like xauth) may be the best type of solution for general purpose non-physical authentication. But, as a software guy, my mind boggles at the infrastructure needed to support such a solution. Looks like passwords are here to stay for a while.

Slackware to the rescue

I bought a new Windows laptop computer about nine months ago, to replace my linux desktop that I purchased in 2000. Yesterday, I needed to check to see if I had a file or two on the old desktop computer, but I hadn’t logged in for eight months; I had no idea what my password was. Now, I should have a root/boot disk set, even though floppy disks are going the way of cursive. But I didn’t. Instead, I had the slackware installation disks from my first venture into linux: a IBM PS/2, with 60 meg of hard drive space, in 1997. I was able to use those disks to load a working, if spartan, linux system into RAM. Then, I mounted the boot partition and used sed (vi being unavailable) to edit the shadow file:

sed 's/root:[^:]*:/root::/' shadow > shadow.new
mv shadow.new shadow

Unmount the partition, reboot, pop the floppy out, and I’m in to find that pesky file. As far as I know, those slackware install disks are the oldest bit of software that I own that still is useful.

New approach to comment spam

Well, after ignoring my blog for a week, and dealing with 100+ comment spams, I’m taking a new tack. I’m not going to rename my comments.cgi script anymore, as that seems to have become less effective.

Instead, I’m closing all comments on any older entry that doesn’t have at least 2 comments. When I go through and delete any comment spam, I just close the entry. This seems to have worked, as I’ve dealt with 2-3 comment spams in the last week, rather than 10+.

I’ve also considered writing a bit of perl to browse through Movable Types DBM database to ease the removal of ‘tramadol’ entries (rather than clicking my way to carpal tunnel). We’ll see.

(I don’t even know what’s involved in using MT-Blacklist. Not sure if the return would be worth the effort for my single blog installation.)

Back to google

So, the fundamental browser feature I use the most is this set of keystrokes:
* cntrl-T–open a new tab
* g search term–to search for “search term”
(I set up g so the keyword expands and points to a search engine.)

Periodically, I’ll hear of a new search engine–a google killer. And I’ll switch my bookmark so that ‘g’ points to the new search engine. I’ve tried AltaVista, Teoma and, lately, IceRocket. Yet, I always return to Google. The others have some nice features–IceRocket shows you images of the pages–and the search results are similar enough. What keeps me coming back to google is the speed of the result set delivery. I guess my attention span has just plain withered.

Anyone else have a google killer I should try?

Freecycling, couchsurfing and easy information transfer

One of the most amazing things about the internet is the manner in which it decreases the costs of information exchange. The focus of this decreased cost is often the business world, because that’s where the money is. However, I’m fascinated by the other forums for information exchange that simply wouldn’t exist without extremely cheap publishing and distribution of information. In the past, I’ve taken a look at the web and government budgets, but I recently came across two other activities that I feel are impressive, and exhibit just what the web can provide: freecycling and couchsurfing.

In the past, when I had something (an excess of garden crops, for example) that I didn’t want anymore that was of negligible value, I had a few options for getting rid of it. In decreasing order of personal preference:

1. Foist it on a friend or family member.

2. Put it on the street with a ‘free’ sign.

3. Give it to Goodwill/Salvation Army.

4. Save it and have a garage sale when I had enough items of negligible value.

5. Give it to a thrift store.

6. Throw it away.

Well, now the internet gives me another option: post to a freecycle email list. There are thousands of these groups. I joined the Boulder list, and it has a simple rule: no trading, just giving. 876 people are subscribed to this list. Freecycling is similar in nature to option #2, except many more people will probably find out about your surplus rutabagas via an email than will drive by your house before they turn into a rotting mess (less effort, too–you can send emails from the comfort of your computer chair, as opposed to hauling produce to the curb). In addition to helping you get rid of stuff, these lists also let you accumulate more crap, easily, and without requiring new production. (I don’t know, there may have been freecycle newsletters circulating around yoga studios and health food stores before email took off. Again, the sheer number of people, who by self-selection are interested in giving and getting new stuff, and the ease of posting and receiving the information, means that email freecycling is a better way.)

Speaking of free stuff, a few years I was bumming around down under, and ended up staying with a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend. The free place to stay was sweet, but so was the local knowledge and a friendly face in a strange land. Upon returning to the USA, I decided it’d be great to build a website dedicated to these concepts. Friendster and the other social networking sites give you some of the needed functionality (who’s connected to me, where do they live) but not all of it (search by locality, meet random people). I wanted to call the website ‘findalocal’ and even threw together a PHP prototype before I got sucked into other projects. Well, I was browsing Wired a few days ago, and came upon Couchsurfing.com, a site which does almost exactly what I want, has been around for since 1999, and is much more professionally done than what I would have whipped up. The basic premise is, you offer up your local knowledge to anyone who is a member. You can also offer up other services, not least a place to crash for a few nights. For more info, check out the couchsurfing FAQ. Again, this is a service that would have a hard time without the easy dissemination of information provided by the web.

In short, I think that, although a lot of excitement revolves around the portions of the internet where you can make gobs and gobs of money, plenty of interesting stuff is going on with no money involved. In fact, the ease of information transfer is even more important when there is no explicit economic value. Invoices are going to be sent to suppliers, whether via carrier pigeon or extranet, but getting rid of my old bicycle by giving it to someone has to be easier than just trashing it, or, nine times out of ten, I’ll throw it away. And couch surfing is even more dependent on free information exchange, due to the dispersed geographic nature of the activity.

Book Review: Dancing with Cats

If you have a chance to read Dancing With Cats by Burton Silver and Heather Busch, don’t bother. However, pick it up and glance through the photos. For it’s in the pictures, of cats and humans cavorting, of almost impossibly resonant images, that this book shines. (Visit the Museum of Non Primate Art for more.) The text is a bit much, using words like ‘aura’ and negative energy, and apparently meaning it. But, if you like cats and have a sense of the absurd, oh the pictures–check it on Amazon.com. I chuckled and chortled through the entire book.

“Dancing With Cats” on Amazon.

OJB and object caching, pt II

Well, I was wrong, when I posted that OJB rc4 didn’t support caching. Because of the way the application is architected, there are two places where we grab data from the database. I know, I know, don’t repeat yourself. But when you’re using free JAAS modules and free O/R mapping tools, you can’t be too picky.

The upshot is, when I actually look at SQL statements for a typical two user session, I see 21 of a certain select statement for when caching using the org.apache.ojb.broker.cache.ObjectCacheEmptyImpl class, and only 6 when performing exactly the same user actions with the org.apache.ojb.broker.cache.ObjectCacheDefaultImpl class. Don’t ask me why it’s not a 2 to 1 ratio; I’m looking into it. (Deep are the ways of object caching.)

Wireheads and depression

I re-read the first two books of the Ringworld series a few months ago. Great science fiction–cool technology, interesting aliens, cardboard characters, decent plot. In the second one, The Ringworld Engineers, one of the main characters is addicted to electricity. Seriously–he has a device that directly stimulates the pleasure center of the brain. Niven calls this ‘addicted to the wire.’

Recently, however, I ran across this article: Shocking Treatment for Depression. Sure, sure, it will require a prescription, and it only helps “lift [your] mood.” It’s only for folks who are depressed. And Viagra is only for older men with erection problems.

Book Review: Deadly Feasts

Deadly feasts: tracking the secrets of a terrifying new plague, by Richard Rhodes, is one scary book. It tracks the discovery of prions, the mishapen proteins responsible for mad cow disease, scrapie, and Creutzfeldt Jacob disease. Following human cannibals in the jungles of New Guinea in the fifties, bovine cannibals of the British Isles in the eighties, and the bizarre history of sheep scrapie from the 17th century on, Rhodes does a great job of presenting the history and discovery of this bizarre group of diseases. I especially enjoyed the characterizations of the scientists, from the Noble Laureate who so enjoyed the New Guinea that he often regretted rejoining civiliziation, yet brought thirty natives back to the USA and helped them through school, to the hyper-competitive scientist who named the molecules even though he wasn’t quite certain what they were.

But this isn’t just a story of scientific discovery. As the foreboding subtitle blares, Rhodes explores some of the scarier aspects of prions. These include spontaneous formation, responsible for the known early cases of Creutzfeldt Jacob disease, trans-species infection, including mad cow disease and scrapie, the long long incubation period and lack of immune system response, and hardiness of the disease. One scary factoid: a scientist took a sample of scrapie, froze it, baked it for an hour at 360 degrees (celsius), and was able to re-infect other animals from this sample.

For all the uneasiness this book inspires, it certainly doesn’t offer any answers. A condemnation of industrial agriculture, a warning that it’s unknown whether vegetarians are even safe, and a caution against using bone meal for your flower garden do not make a recipe for handling this issue. To be fair, it was printed in 1997–perhaps things are under control now.