Charlie's Weblog

From the Sporting News...

Are you ready for another baseball debate involving the words "Albert Pujols" and No. 1? Don't worry: We're not here to argue that Pujols should have been the 2006 NL MVP. We are here, however, to argue about who should be No. 1 in your 2007 fantasy baseball draft: Pujols or new Cub Alfonso Soriano.

But there's no need to frantically start diving into the stat book -- Fantasy Source guru Rob Hurtt already has done the work for you. Hurtt's hypothesis: Soriano might steal more bases, but Pujols superiority in every other hitting category more than makes up the difference for Soriano's superior swipe totals.

But what about the Wrigley Field effect? And, as SN user ogremace says: "I expect great things from Soriano in a lineup with Aramis Ramirez, Derrek Lee, Jacque Jones and Matt Murton."

Soriano will be hitting in a friendlier park than in 2006, and he will have a better lineup. No doubt about it. But as Hurtt points out, there's no doubting Pujols' consistency.

If you still believe what someone once said about statistics (you know, lies, damn lies and statistics and all that) and want to go with Soriano, feel free. Just don't say we didn't warn you.

Stick w/ Pujols if you get the number 1 pick.

My buddy Bill pointed out this article to me. The interesting part is near the end where Scott writes

[Software] has proved uniquely resistant to engineering discipline

Idealistic software developers love to dream about world-changing innovations; meanwhile, we wait and wait for all the potholes to be fixed.

I got two or three "idealistic software developers" working for me. It's a lot like herding cats to try to get them to work on what they should be working on. They would rather tackle interesting problems instead of just getting the simple things to actually work. As my boss is always telling me: "I can't believe that they call this a science". Guess I'm beginning to agree with him.

By Scott Rosenberg
The Washington Post, Tuesday, January 30, 2007; Page A17

Today, Microsoft finally offers consumers Windows Vista, the version of its operating system that's been gestating for five years. When Microsoft's engineers started this project, U.S. troops hadn't yet invaded Iraq, Google was still a relatively small private company, and my now-7-year-old twins were just learning to talk in sentences.

Why did it take the world's biggest and most successful software company so long to revamp its flagship product - the program that controls the basic operations of roughly 90 percent of the country's personal computers? And what do Microsoft's delays tell us about our growing dependence on balky software products?

The troubled saga of Vista's development is a matter of public record. Microsoft began work on Vista (then called Longhorn) in 2002 and trumpeted ambitious goals in 2003, including a plan to revamp the file system - the innards of computers' information storage - so we could actually find things.

A year later, the company announced it was scaling Vista back, dropping the file-system upgrade and delaying the release. At that point, we now know, Microsoft essentially pressed "reset": It threw out most of its work on the operating system and started over.

"In my view, we lost our way," Vista's manager, Jim Allchin, wrote in an e-mail (later posted online) to Microsoft founder Bill Gates and chief executive Steve Ballmer. "I would buy a Mac today if I was not working at Microsoft."

Ballmer swears that there will never again be a five-year gap between versions of Windows. Perhaps, as some observers predict, Vista will turn out to be the last ever big release of Windows as we know it, and Microsoft will embrace the software industry's new orthodoxy of small upgrades delivered via the Web.

But Vista's tale is not just a headache for Microsoft's managers or a source of delight for the company's legions of critics; it's a portent for all of us who rely on software to manage our financial dealings, our public business, even some aspects of our private lives. The sad truth is that Microsoft's woes aren't unusual in this industry. Large-scale software projects are perennially beset by dashed hopes and bedeviling delays. They are as much a tar pit today as they were 30 years ago, when a former IBM program manager named Frederick P. Brooks Jr. applied that image to them in his classic diagnosis of the programming field's troubles, "The Mythical Man-Month."

The tar pit has regularly engulfed large corporate efforts to introduce comprehensive software "solutions." Private firms aren't the only ones getting trapped. Both the IRS and the FBI, for instance, have failed in multiple attempts to modernize the software they depend on, at a cost to taxpayers of hundreds of millions of dollars.

The software business remains full of optimists who, bless them, think they know how to fix their field's problems and overcome this dismal record. Their confidence springs from the computer industry's experience of the exponential growth in the capacity of its semiconductor-based hardware. Computer chips have reliably doubled in capacity every year or two for the past few decades, and that has made the increased power (and decreasing cost) of personal computers feel like magic.

But unlike computer hardware - the microchips and storage devices that run programs - software isn't rooted in the physical world. It's still written, painstakingly, line by line and character by character; essentially, it's all made up. Software straddles the wide-open realm of the imagination, where it's created, and the fixities of everyday reality, where we expect it to work. And so far, it has proved uniquely resistant to engineering discipline.

Without that discipline, too often, software teams get lost in what are known in the field as "boil-the-ocean" projects - vast schemes to improve everything at once. That can be inspiring, but in the end we might prefer that they hunker down and make incremental improvements to rescue us from bugs and viruses and make our computers easier to use. Idealistic software developers love to dream about world-changing innovations; meanwhile, we wait and wait for all the potholes to be fixed.

The writer is a co-founder of Salon.com and the author of "Dreaming in Code: Two Dozen Programmers, Three Years, 4,732 Bugs, and One Quest for Transcendent Software."

The latest lineup at Sweetwater Tavern - Centreville includes the following selections:

I went home with two Pale Ale's and a Springbock. Drank one of the Pale Ale growlers at a Super Bowl XLI party in the neighboorhood. Tasted great!

Discovered a Sweetwater (No! Not the Great American Restaurant Sweetwater Tavern) beer commercial on YouTube. Its from the Sweetwater Brewing Co in Atlanta GA. I need to send this to my friends at Sweetwater Tavern!

Last week I purchased a burger at Burger King for $1.58. The counter girl took my $2 and I was digging for my change when I pulled out 8 cents from my pocket and gave it to her. She stood there, holding the nickel and 3 pennies, while looking at the screen on her register. I sensed her discomfort and tried to tell her to just give me two quarters, but she hailed the manager for help. While he tried to explain the transaction to her, she stood there and cried.

Why do I tell you this?

Because of the evolution in teaching math since the 1950s.

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1. Teaching Math in 1950:

A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is 4/5 of the price. What is his profit?

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2. Teaching Math in 1960:

A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is 4/5 of the price, or $80. What is his profit?

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3. Teaching Math in 1970:

A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is $80. Did he make a profit?

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4. Teaching Math in 1980:

A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is $80 and his profit is $20. Your assignment: Underline the number 20.

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5. Teaching Math in 1990:

A logger cuts down a beautiful forest because he is selfish and inconsiderate and cares nothing for the habitat of animals or the preservation of our woodlands. He does this so he can make a profit of $20. What do you think of this way to make a living? Topic for class participation after answering the question: How did the birds and squirrels feel as the logger cut down their homes? (There are no wrong answers.)

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6. Teaching Math in 2007:

Un hachero vende una carretada de madera para $100. El costo de la producciones es $80 ...

No change to the beer lineup this week at Sweetwater Tavern - Centreville. Here is what's on tap:

I went home with a Pale Ale and a Springbock.

Had another Rochefort 8 11.2 oz bottle this evening from the Abbaye Notre-Dame de Saint-Remy.

Stats:
9.2% ABV
Beer Advocate score: 91 (outstanding)
Belgian Strong Dark Ale
Born on: Aug 11

Great head this time. About an inch thick at the start and dissipated slowly to a thin head all across the top. Perhaps because I poured it a little more carefully this time. You need to be careful pouring this one as there is sediment at the bottom of the bottle that you don't want in the glass. It has a nice deep orange color and a GREAT malty taste. If you store your beer in a fridge, be sure to let it warm up for about 5-10 minutes before drinking. It tastes much better after it warms a bit.

Unlike this guy...

Mike Seate wrote an article in the Pittsburgh Tribune Review on 17 January 2007 and is quoted below. The best part is at the end when he states "I'll be doing my drinking at home, on the cheap, from a Styrofoam cup." Good for him. But for me, a nice Trappist Rochefort 8 in a glass chalis is what I will be drinking. Or better yet, a Boddington's Pub Ale with a little bee on the can...

During the weekend, I stopped by the Sharp Edge bar in East Liberty for a few beers. Nothing spectacular about that, except for one small problem: It's one of those so-called beer emporiums, trendy little places that specialize in styles and brands of beer so obscure, you need a Frommer's travel guide just to pronounce them. These sorts of places are a relatively new in our area. Back in the early-1990s, few local bars served anything more esoteric than, say, Old Frothingslosh, and the concept of drinking a Guinness stout from a tap just like Europeans do was something of a beer-lover's revelation.

Fifteen years later, dozens of local bars offer exotic beers, and as these unusual malted beverages have grown in popularity, the prices charged for a glass have risen faster than a gallon of unleaded during an election year.

When I stopped at a popular beer and hot dog joint in Regent Square, for example, my wallet choked at the thought of forking over $4.25 for a single take-out can of Boddingtons Pub Ale. The thick, creamy British brew can be had just down the block for about $40 per case, which makes the idea of buying a six-pack for nearly half that much a real pain in the pint glass.

To be fair, these places are usually dense with bearded guys in tattered wool sweaters who can rattle off the complex brewing methods of odd brands the way Star Trek enthusiasts can speak fluent Klingon. Likewise, some of our city's beer emporiums have elevated the formerly simple act of purchasing a pint to something akin to a haute wine tasting; elaborate back stories are offered about strange orders of Trappist Belgian monks who craft their beers in dank basements using recipes as closely guarded as the holy grail.

In exchange for the satisfaction of knowing your beer has a provenance and back story that would make a great Orlando Bloom/Johnny Depp film, customers are charged anywhere between $5 and $10 for a glass of beer. Worse yet, some bars have taken to serving these beverages in tiny brandy snifters and elegant, hand-blown glass goblets.

Is it just me, or has somebody forgotten that beer is supposed to be a workingman's drink, as free from pretensions and airs as a kielbasa smothered in sauerkraut?

Apparently so. And until local bar owners remember this, I'll be doing my drinking at home, on the cheap, from a Styrofoam cup.

Opened a 750mL bottle of Westmalle Trappist Tripel Ale tonight from the Trappist Monastary of Westmalle. The monastary has a tower that reminds one of a California winery or the Tillman Tower at Clemson.

Stats:
ABV: 9.5%
Beer Advocate Score: 91 (Recommended)
Style: Tripel
Born on: Unknown

Has a deep lacy head when poured which dissipates to a thin layer and sticks nicely to the sides of the glass. Has a nice deep golden / straw color. You can almost smell a hint of orange. High alcohol content means you better be careful with this one. It has a sweet taste helps hide the taste the alcohol. An excellent example of the Tripel style.

The Beer Advocate has an interesting forum discussion on this topic. The bottom line for a ceramic topped flip lid growler...

Sweetwater leaves about an inch of air in the neck of their growlers. Less would be better. But in my experience, you may keep these in the beer fridge for up to a month without any degradation.

Once open though, plan to drink it all within about 24 hours. For those of you that sip your beer, that means you can drink about half the first night, and finish it off the second night. Or share one with a buddy during an evening of watching March Madness.

No change to the beer lineup for a second week at Sweetwater Tavern - Centreville. Here is what's on tap:

I went home with two Pale Ale growlers.