Thank you to Ash and Hala for hosting!
Thank you to Ash and Hala for hosting!
This dude is taking things to the next level. As quoted in the Malaysian Digest:
“Externally, I am now a platypus,” he said. “My resemblance is the way I want it to be. It takes bravery to do what I’ve done and I will keep modifying my body until I am happy.”
And from Lidtime:
He added “Even after these transformation, I can normally eat, talk and even sing. I feel everything normal”.
Singing is the essence of the human spirit. Rock on dude, and happy Platypus Friday!
“Hey man, you hungry?”
Those are four of the most powerful words I know.
I was standing in line at the Civic Center Burger King, having just ordered my meal after a fairly forgetful okcupid date, and was lost in my own head when a guy standing next to me asked if I had $0.38 so he could buy a cup of water.
“I need $0.38 so I can buy a cup of water.”
“They charge for water?!”
He was holding an empty liter bottle of water in his hands and a small 6 oz crappy plastic cup. You know, the tiny free water cup. Thirty-eight fucking cents!
“No man, they’ll give me water, but I need to buy the cup.”
Normally I say no to the indigent. But this indignity made me indignant.
I fumbled out a dollar to give to him and for about 10 seconds, watched him try to pay the counter worker so he could fill his crappy 6 oz cup, and then the ridiculousness of the situation struck me.
“Hey man, you hungry?”
“Naw, I’m all good. Just wanted a cup of water.”
“Dude, I know you’re hungry. Come on, let me buy you dinner.”
“Aight, I jes’ go for some nuggets, man.”
“Get as many as you want. It’s all good.”
“20’ll do me.”
“You sure you don’t want more? How about a drink?”
“Hey you have free refills?” to the counter worker, who shakes his head. “Nah, I’m cool with this water and them nuggets. Hey you want your dollar back?”
I shook my own head. He asked my name and then introduced himself as Kevin. As I handed over my credit card for the second time, I thought I was done. Having bought the man some food, he’d go away, and I could eat my own meal while playing with my äppärät.
Kevin shambled away while I waited for my card and set his empty water bottle and slim backpack on a table. Then yelling and gesturing at me:
“Yo Alex, you wanna eat with me?”
After pausing for just long enough to think but not long enough to be awkward but also right before Kevin just kinda disappeared, I said “Yeah sure why not.”
I got my meal and sat at our table, deducing that Kevin was in the bathroom. I watched his stuff like I would watch anyone’s stuff for them in a public place near San Francisco’s Civic Center. Kevin came back and I got my first good look at him. There were tiny white spots salted on his black face. I was mildly alarmed at his skin condition until several minutes into our dinner when some of them fell off. Bits of paper towel, I decided, the cheap kind that Burger King stocks and that fall apart when they get wet.
Kevin asked me what I was doing. “You just out and about?”
“Yeah man, just came from SOMA.”
“Oh whatchoo doin’ there?”
I figured why hide anything. “Oh, I was actually just on a date.”
“Whatchoo all do onnadate?”
“Just drinks. I’m here now.”
“Shit man, I just left my girl. It’s a long story. Too long to get into. How old areya?”
A smile. “Same age as me.”
There but for the grace of god, go I.
Kevin alternated between rapid-fire questions and highly entertaining monologues.
“How long you lived out here?” (About 2 years) “Where you from?” (NJ. Where *you* from?) “I’m from Oakland, but my mom lives in Sac. I like it here in Frisco better. Spent some time in jail. Came here after that. Why’d you come here?” (Job. Weather. And where I was had too many white people. I wanted to hang with brown folks.) “Ah man, people are people, you know what I mean?”
[mildly surprising to learn that I am more pissed off about race than he was...]
“Man, I had a great summer. Went to Waterworld. Went to Magic Mountain. Went with my buddy. Was cool, but then we had to stop hanging out because he was all into me. I mean, he a cool guy and all and he’s gay, but I had to tell him I’m not into that. I mean, he was really into me, but you know, I ain’t gay. Got a little awkward. I mean, I let him suck my dick and he wanted to get all these candles out and shit. Shit man, I don’t know why I just told you that story.”
[I didn't know why either, but it was an amazing story]
“You like football?” (Um… no, not really.) “Baseball? Basketball?” (I… don’t really watch much sports. How about you? You a Raiders fan?) “Naw, I just love good football. Raiders probably 0-10 this year. But if we talking AFC… the Broncos are good.” (Oh yeah, I like Peyton Manning. And I guess I like the Giants too. NY Giants, that is.) “Eli got more rings than Peyton.” (Right, he’s got 2.) “Ah shit, see you know a little something about football!”
“My girlfriend, I had to break up with her. You know what sadomasochism is? Man she was all into that shit and it was fun at first but then she was really into it and it started making me crazy and the more crazy I got, the more she got off on it. Man, one time she wanted me to piss on her but I didn’t want to do it but she kept asking so I pissed into a cup and then threw it on her. BAP-tized that bitch! But I had to go.”
[amazing story #2]
“You see any good movies lately? What movies you like?” (Last thing I saw was Django Unchained, and thought that was pretty good.) “Man that’s a revenge movie. You just like it because it’s shooting white people! You crazy!”
[cue long discussion about who the star of Django Unchained was without resolution]
“Man someone stole my backpack with my clothes, my phone, and my Samsung Galaxy Tab. Now I don’t got no phone!” (That’s terrible, why would someone do that? (response was a blank stare (so I guess there are stupid questions after all) followed by more monologuing)) “Backpack had the clothes I liked. This one I just went to Goodwill and got it. You work a job? That’s the good thing about being homeless I guess. Don’t nobody make you have to be nowhere. I’m like…. a nomad. A Frisco nomad!”
[a bona fide local says Frisco unabashedly, so I'm taking my cues there]
Kevin mumbled something about politics so I asked what he thought of Obama. “He’s a pawn. There’s a global elite and he’s just a pawn. He is controlled by entities that are… not of this realm. The Federal Reserve doesn’t exist. You walk into a bank and get a loan for five thousand dollars, they don’t print no five thousand dollars and give it to you, they just type that into a computer and somehow that’s money. You know that ain’t money! David Icke, you know him? You gotta read his stuff. That’s I-c-k-e. Reptilian theory, 4th dimension. Small global elite rule everything man. It’s all there.”
And while I thought Kevin actually had a pretty good grasp on how our modern banking system works, he lost me a bit when he mentioned reptilian theory.
In any case, an hour had passed, and I was ready to go. I’d already insisted earlier that he eat my onion rings because “I was full” (which he did with gusto), and now I asked if he wanted the rest of my soda, but he laughed at me when I said it was Diet Coke.
“Well, what do you like to drink instead?”
“Dr. Pepper man. But you heard that guy, no free refills.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Walking up to the counter, I handed the service worker my mostly full cup. “I ordered this Diet but didn’t really like it. Can I get a Dr. Pepper instead, please?” (Sure, no problem.) I can’t remember the last time I used my class privilege in such a blatant manner no matter how minor. But hey, I asked politely, so no harm, right?
Kevin said, “Hey man, why’d you help me? I wish I didn’t get my Galaxy Tab stolen. I’d show you a movie to say thank you. Hey what’s your number? I’ll get my phone back and you gotta read that Icke I-c-k-e and you can tell me what you think.”
I paused again… and then thought, fuck it, why not. I gave it to him.
I won’t call that girl back, but if I get a random text from Kevin, I’ll answer it.
The things I’ve missed while being away from Fort Collins: amazing friends; ultra-wide bike lanes everywhere; single family homes on spacious lots; big sunny skies; Big Al’s; riding everywhere as a bike gang with your friends; cheap drinks; backyard bbqs; Bean Cycle; my own house; Choice City.
Things that are different that I’m not sure about: La Luz. “80’s Pizza” (wtf?)
Things that are different that I appreciate: no more 100 Octane/Suite 152. Also…
Things that remind me why I left: the unbearable whiteness of being.
It’s been an exciting first week at Angaza, ramping up and getting to know my new team.
Things move fast here. Not only am I trying to internalize a new set of business partners, product lines, roadmaps, and metrics, but of course the new code base as well.
Speaking of which, I’ve already pushed code to production twice this week, with my first deploy on Wednesday. Not quite as fast as Facebook, who famously have their new engineers deploy on day 1, but for us, day 3 surely ain’t bad.
And after multiple mind-melds with the team, I’m even more excited than ever about our mission to bring energy independence to those most in need.
Finally, the icing (or perhaps more accurately, the home made thousand island dressing) on top is the amazingly delicious food provided by Hattery.
Happy Platypus Friday!
Wizzy the Waterdrop and Platypus Pete will make special guest appearances and there’ll be regular performances of the Platypus Puppet Theatre.
Platypus Friday has returned!
An excellent essay from recent Jeopardy! phenom, Arthur Chu, on the topic of race, specifically being Chinese in America:
This Is Not Your Country.
You can live here. You can make friends. You can try to live by the law and be a decent citizen and even maybe make a lot of money.
But you will never, ever belong. You will never, ever be one of them. And you must never, ever trust them.
We all live here. We all make friends here, eat the food, watch the movies, maybe even make money.
It’s just some people belong here, and others don’t.
I can pretend to belong here better than Trayvon was ever given the chance to. The white racist looks at me and sees a stolen job or the slow decline of national prominence, but he doesn’t see a rapist, a thug, a barbarian at the gate. I fear being snubbed and sometimes spat on but rarely shot. And that is a very important difference.
But it is still not my country. However hard I try, however well they treat me, however much we all smile at each other and however much people praise the “model minority” I am, I know it is not.
Read the whole thing.
And if you’re still resisting the idea that racism is alive and well in this country, look no further than Harry Reid, not only a United States fucking Senator, but the god damned Senate Majority Leader, who apologized about making a joke about how an Anglicized Chinese name sounds to an English-only speaker.
Reid said he was having a problem “keeping my Wongs straight” after introducing someone at the luncheon.
I’ll close with a long essay about the class origins of racial politics:
So, who are they really, these hundred thousand white supremacists? They’re every white guy who believed that this land was his land, was made for you and me. They’re every down-on-his-luck guy who just wanted to live a decent life but got stepped on, every character in a Bruce Springsteen or Merle Haggard song, every cop, soldier, auto mechanic, steelworker, and construction worker in America’s small towns who can’t make ends meet and wonders why everyone else is getting a break except him. But instead of becoming Tom Joad, a left-leaning populist, they take a hard right turn, ultimately supporting the very people who have dispossessed them.
They’re America’s Everymen, whose pain at downward mobility and whose anger at what they see as an indifferent government have become twisted by a hate that tells them they are better than others, disfigured by a resentment so deep that there are no more bridges to be built, no more ladders of upward mobility to be climbed, a howl of pain mangled into the scream of a warrior. Their rage is as sad as it is frightening, as impotent as it is shrill.
I’m Asian and I’m pissed.
Four and a half years ago, I joined Canonical to pursue a mission and a dream: to deliver successful products informed by open source values to real human beings.
Looking back, I’m proud to have played a very minor part in the commercial successes we’ve achieved, from shipping millions of pre-loaded Ubuntu laptops, thin clients, countless secret futuristic demos, and of course, our imminent phone launches with various OEM partners and operators.
And now, it’s time for me to move on to a different mission. Lately, I’ve grown more concerned and disturbed by the gulf between the developed vs developing worlds, and so I’ll be joining a very small, very early startup here in San Francisco to bring clean solar energy and modern financing + credit histories to off-grid and under-banked populations in countries such as Kenya, Tanzania, and Pakistan.
It seems I am forever destined to work at companies with impossible-to-pronounce Swahili names. My new gig is at Angaza Design, and “angaza” means:
give light, illuminate, irradiate, shine
Apropos, no? And here’s another backgrounder on the problem Angaza is trying to solve.
For those curious, I will be staying in San Francisco for the next bit, and indeed, I will actually be going to an office on a daily basis for the first time in a long time, which means that my pants budget will increase dramatically. My new role will involve writing a lot more code than I currently do which I’m eagerly anticipating.
My last day at Canonical will be Friday, September 5 and I start immediately thereafter at Angaza.
Here’s to the future, shining brightly.
Just a test post, to see if 301 redirects are working properly.
The best explainer I’ve yet seen on the SF housing issue, by Kim-Mai Cutler: How Burrowing Owls Lead To Vomiting Anarchists (Or SF’s Housing Crisis Explained).
Long and detailed, it’s great for a lazy Sunday coffee and reading session.
And an op-ed in the NYT about subsidizing suburbs: America’s Urban Future by Vishaan Chakrarbati.
I am not arguing that people should not live in suburbs. But we shouldn’t pay them to do so, particularly now that our world and the desires of our population are evolving.