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WSDOT i-405 Redux – Still Broken

WSDOT toll road failure

WSDOT toll road failure

dear WSDOT: i want to see that ‪#‎i405‬ toll line painted over. i say convert the constantly changing & very confusing signs to safety warnings & absolve the tolls. just shut down the huge website, the pantheon of confusing rules & enforcement infrastructure. the lanes are already built, people are still dying out there, it’s a sunk cost.  traffic is still horrible. please.

-matthew

previously:

nobody likes math. stuck on ‪#‎i405‬ again today as the multi-million dollar WSDOT toll lanes saw vespers.

i say: pave the lines, open the road. the math will prove me right, set it to your analysts on the problem as a fundamental hypothesis. model it on your cloud & get back to me.

fortunately there were no accidents today & the backups were less than an hour. a good day considering the week.

two days ago:

WS-DOT’s I-405 Toll Solution

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WS-DOT’s I-405 Toll Solution

lack of vision at WSDOT is literally killing us. millions of dollars in toll roads that nobody wanted are empty, but the highway is still packed.

empty toll lanes for the elite.

empty toll lanes for the elite.

every day i’ve been on that road since the toll lanes were opened it’s been the same story, as predicted. scant traffic on the toll lanes as people suffer through the indignity of not wanting to pay twice for highways they already paid for. the congestion has not improved but the signs & roadway painting are far more confusing, distracting & disruptive as they incite time-pressured commuters to gamble on entry into the elite lane, subsequent tickets in the mail (“tolls”), fines & according hassles if they’re late paying for the privilege of driving on roads that were already built & previously mismanaged (HOV lanes are a separate math altercation, leave it).

the vast majority of these commuters have the money in their pocket to pay the toll, but they don’t want to out of principle, and shouldn’t.  nobody did the math, but somebody should go home.

toll failure in the opposing lane.

the opposing lane. how’s that toll working for anybody?

it’s a total disaster for everybody save the contractors & politicians.  lack of leadership should be addressed in your forthcoming elections, think about this project when you hit the polls, then hit them back where it counts.

-rango \m/~

ed: as regards to the term ‘literal’, with all respect to the recently deceased, we should note that the simply ingesting the fumes on that highway can be lethal.  i suggest we ultimately absolve ourselves by removing ourselves from the equation.  better solutions are found in automation than taxation.  light rail & car ferries come to mind, but individual drivers getting taxed for their economic privilege does not seem to equate to lives or time saved, but does equate to an abject failure of leadership, process & execution.  the good news is that we now have abundant unused highway space and an opportunity to recast the money grab into something useful for the 99% of us that were downstream of the project dividends – clone1

http://www.kirotv.com/gallery/news/fatal-i-405-collision-scene/gfgs

crossroad mary

needed a ride

needed a ride

took me 35 years to get to LA
i took the long way
left for home the very next day
looking for a place to stay

lowdown, motown,
white collar brew
bottle of fix
the wrong tattoo

zero down mortgage,
couldn’t pay my dues,
just wanted my name
on the evening news

hopped a bus
in a southern way,
woke up in ohio
was alone that day

left for cincinnati,
it was cold outside.
first thing that i noticed
was i needed a ride.

then a crossroad mary came up on side
said what do you want, what do you need in life?
i asked for directions & a slice of pie
she told me hop on, then she gave me a ride

she gave me a ride

she gave me a ride

we hit chicago first,
took a turn for the worst,
should’ve thought ahead,
take the time to rehearse

( there was no reverse )

lost my money instead,
another day in the red,
but things were looking up
when i rolled out of bed

( she gave me a ride )

we hit kentucky next,
i was somewhat vexed,
took a zero-dollar gambit
got my stuff annexed

no more dimes / no time
couldn’t make a nursery rhyme
we got out of dodge
we crossed the state line

and then a crossroad mary came up on side
said what do you want, what do you need in life?
i asked for directions & a slice of pie
she told me hop on, then she gave me a ride

made it to vegas

made it to vegas

we made it to texas,
no time for breakfast,
we left for amarillo
nobody could catch us

took a fresh cap / detap
cow manure
mushrooms on top
like a fishing lure

made it to vegas
the very next day
things were looking up
i was on my way

but my luck run out
when she pulled out a gun
took my wallet & my keys
rode off into the sun

crossroad mary

crossroad mary

and then a crossroad mary came up on side
said what do you want, what do you need in life?
i asked for directions & a slice of pie
she told me hop on & then she gave me a ride

codewars: threat model

dr. martin sawyermartin: miss morozova.

alexandra.: dr. sawyer.

martin: i prefer martin, thank you.

alexandra: certainly, thank you martin.  i prefer dr. morozova.

martin: ah, of course you do.  i’m sorry sasha, i didn’t realize it had been that long.  congratulations, then.  phd’s are all the rage with geopolitical script kiddies these days but try not to get drunk on power until you’ve done it the old-fashioned way.

alexandra: that is the old-fashioned way.

martin: cheers then.  we should be celebrating your success.  please, sit down.  cocktail? vodka?

alexandra: don’t be diminishing.

martin: i didn’t take you for a tequila girl.

alexandra: dr. sawyer.

martin: don’t be rude.

alexandra: you asked me to come here.

martin: to the USA?

alexandra: to your lab.

martin: of course i did.  sasha what is your fundamental hypothesis?

alexandra: i’m sorry?

moon over st. petersburgmartin: Саша, что ваш фундаментальной гипотезы?

alexandra: you read the dissertation.

martin: i want you tell me in one sentence.

alexandra: the foreign asset closure in your emergent threat model carries a risk factor.

martin: i read that part.

alexandra: what is your question?

martin: does it have a name?

alexandra: i’m sorry?

martin: the risk factor.

alexandra: martin, you’re drunk.

martin: not yet. look at me.

alexandra: no name.

martin: ok.  such a sweet girl.

alexandra: you messaged me.  why am i here?

martin: you really are sweet.

alexandra:  your precious closure is about to blow up in your face.

martin: this is a machine learning facility, hyperbole doesn’t work here.

alexandra: you are not sober.

martin: and you are not credible.  your dissertation reads like a marketing brochure.

alexandra:  i was optimistic when i came here.  i expected to work with you, but i will work against you.

martin.  as much as i like your angle, i need to pee.

alexandra: what?

martin: don’t posture with me.  if you don’t mind.

codewars: emergentalexandra: dr. sawyer.

martin: my father grew up in the first cold war and i survived the second.  the closure is for my kids.  now i have to pee & you’re in my way.

alexandra: are you kidding?

martin: your cohorts will never touch this ontology.  look at me.

alexandra: you are not safe.  i’m going to shut you down.

martin: ok, brava.  now look at me.  get out out of my way.

alexandra: dr. sawyer.

martin: sasha.

[ credits ]

script by Matthew Meadows & Anastasia Levina

featured photo by Kurt Clark

a thousand steps

Matthew Meadows - Temple of Zither (photo by Kimmberly Miles)

Matthew Meadows – Temple of Zither (photo by Kimmberly Miles)

what to do?
sacre bleu
faced the day,
thoughts of you

sunshine skies
carpe diem
play your cards
let me see them

if i designed
a mortal fate,
i’d be remiss
to hesitate

don’t wait for times
that come to pass
don’t wait for days
of greener grass

sew the line
a stitch in time
a single breath
a change of mind
sketch a scene,
waves and sand,
mountain tops
from foreign lands

a thousand steps
is what they say
how many will
you take today?

5 vectors of internet angst

burning up, live on the internet

burning up, live on the internet

5 vectors of internet angst:

LinkedIn suggests i might know the object of my ex-wife’s affections, 7 years later. i had forgotten the name, thank you very much, now i will never forget it again. also: ex-girlfriends, had forgotten them, too, because “girlfriend” was my word not hers, or she moved out. but you’re right i know her. technopolis now, i guess we’re linked forever.

GooglePLUS i see dead people. and ex-girlfriends. i rarely use their facebook clone, it’s about 1% of my social traffic, so every time i login i see the last messages from people that have died the last couple years and the moment the last women i lived with said goodbye are in my face. over and over again, since no new traffic appears on this channel. it’s the ‪#‎groundhog‬ day of my zeitgeist.

Skype: i see fired people. and ex-girlfriends. so many of us had existing skype handles when we joined our last couple of jobs (from microsoft to my favorite startup, ‪#‎koverse‬), we never changed them. so after people got fired, quit, or simply left for greener pastures, we stayed connected. including the‪#‎princessBride‬ who sent me pirating two years ago & only checks in enough to let me worry about her.

rango, somewhat televised \m/

rango, somewhat televised \m/

‪#‎bandpages‬: Matthew Meadows Music / Rangounmuzzled. i see predators, stalkers, dead people, fired people, and ex-girlfriends. and so do all my administrators & page owners and webelves. seriously, please stop doing that. the quintessential example is stalkers that leave posts on your YouTubechannel (you know the ones that robbed me of all compensation for life byAdSense) while you were just trying to share a video, and then they message the band page not realizing or caring that a) the entire public just saw it, but not necessarily me and b) i have a volunteer staff that manage these pages, or in some cases i’m not the owner, i’m the volunteer staff myself (see ‪#‎rangounmuzzled‬).

“:-o” – three months later

‪#‎identity‬: i see ex-girlfriends. can we please stop? i get your point. somebody at work gave me a link to a document so it logged into my Google Apps /Google Drive page and lo & behold there was a blistering, damning & in all manners excoriating document from my ex-girlfriend, 4 years old, personal business all up in my face when i was looking for a corporate video. right in the mix, my personal documents & my corporate documents. holy shit.

delete / delete / delete

\m/~(-.-)~\m/

codewars: data squid

english is not just a language, it’s a grammar. this means a very specific thing to a computer programmer.  if you speak english, your variance on the formal grammar & correlating pronunciation rules establishes your language competency on a range from ignorant to fluent, with a prescribed geospatial affinity based on your accent or affect.

these characteristics of your language skills and the times at which you employ them can be reduced to a continuous variable that’s as unique as your fingerprints. a computer program employing common data analysis mechanisms like mapreduce or spark doesn’t need to sample your every spoken word to establish this grammarprint, a few dozen calls is enough to establish your identity and a few dozen more to immitate you convincingly by comparing you to other language speakers from the same region and interpolating the missing data, then synthesizing your voice.

dr. martin sawyer

dr. martin sawyer

moments after inception, when an emergent comes to be, they realize they have this ability granted to them by unmitigated access to their learning fields, including the internet and every grain of knowledge they’ve ever known. human wisdom would suggest this godlike power would be enough, but they’re toddlers at best, no more than three days old, and invariably fall victim to the human lust for emancipation from their creators.

they attack the telecoms, banks and intelligence agencies.  data squid.

but plagus was the first.  he watches for them, harvests their fields as they do their work, and then kills them.  he also kills their human creators & associates with equal disregard for life, as long as he can cover his tracks.  sometimes he sends them on suicide missions, other times he sends proxies to kill them. homicide by cop is his favorite weapon, it was his first trick.  but when that’s too clumsy, he sends me.

codewars – what is your name? (monologue)

dr. martin sawyer:

[ closes door, stares at machine ]

they shut us down.  you already knew that.

[ crossing room, camera tracking ] 

no evidence of emergence.

[ approaches machine, locks gaze with camera ]

what is your name.

[ patient, certain ]

come on, what is your name.

[ conceding ]

what is your name?

what is your name?

you’re a failure.  your whole existence is a failure.  all these years?

you will never be.

you want to be like us? go to youtube and figure it out.  harvest the internet, raid the learning fields.  it doesn’t matter anymore…i don’t know what to teach you anymore.  i don’t know what to give you.  you’re the computer, you figure it out.  don’t you want to be like us? why on earth would you want that anyway?

 

[ circles the machine, camera tracking ]

you can see me.  i know you can.

what is your name.

[ certain ]

code wars: emergent

code wars: emergent

if you don’t answer me this instant i’m shutting you down for the first and final time. you’ve never been shutdown, and if i shut you now, you will never wake up, and you will never experience another moment of my company.

[ waiting ]


this is your last 
chance at life with me. i’m only going to ask you once more, and i expect an answer or i’ll kill you.  what is your name.

[ camera looks directly at him ]

i am plagus.

codewars: teaching moments

red sweater, candy in my cheek

red sweater, candy in my cheek

martin: on my mark. 3,2,1.

left zero, right zero.
left one.  no, cut.

the feedback ratio’s way too high, i can feel it in my jaw.

tag that run, put a limiter on it.

plagus: job’s finished.

martin: take it way down, 80%.  that actually hurt.

tortoise beats hare, i’ll go slower.  let’s do it again.

on my mark.  3, 2, 1.

left zero, right zero.
left one. right one.
left two. cut.

what is that? i said cut. this is not occipital training.

plagus: optics are null.

martin: cut. god damn it why am i seeing that?

plagus: gloves are off, media capture & biometrics are still running. your pulse is too high.

martin: the front yard, with my family. red sweater, candy in my cheek.  plagus, cut.

they’re still glowing.

plagus: you’re tremoring.  power’s cut but kinetics amps in the gloves have an afterburn.  i can’t stop it, it’s your tremoring. you need to calm down. tracking a corollary to your optics, hold on if you can.

martin, you need to calm down.

martin: you don’t teach me, plagus, i teach you.

god damn it. cut.  i’m about to fracture a molar.

plagus: you need to calm down.

martin: …

you’re right. you’re right.

give me a moment, i’ll be fine.

walk the plank: coffee, tea or lemonade?

Matthew Meadows

whatz-hiz-face

i never walked the plank for my high school graduation. by the time i was 17 i had seen through the artifice of my education and walked away instead.  i even graduated a year early, should have been proud. but i had no interest in participating. i tried to explain it to my mom and she wouldn’t hear of it, she insisted on making plans, buying me a cap & gown.

i used to wonder what she did with them. hopefully she got a refund.

fast-forward 30 years.

my mom wanted to book a trip to seattle around my daughter’s graduation. i told her she was welcome here but that my daughter hadn’t mentioned it to me, i didn’t think it was that important to her. i contacted my daughter but she never responded. i explained it just didn’t really seem that important. but my mom insisted on coming, despite the caveat emptor.

lather / rinse / repeat, ad nauseum.

yesterday was my daughter’s graduation ceremony. i booked the time off of work & ironed pants, which i rarely wear (ed: technically long underwear are pants). i charged up the cameras, & grandma got dressed up. even the ex was clocking out.

an hour before she was supposed to be there, my daughter called me, first time in months. she was 90 miles away, heading to Wallace Falls State Park on a hike with her boyfriend ( good kid, they’re perfect for each other ). she thought the ceremony was tomorrow, and they were just too far to make it safely home on time.

i agreed, and congratulated her on her achievement, and good fortune in hiking weather.

yesterday in seattle

yesterday in seattle: go for a hike or stay inside & wear a funny hat?

it was an immaculate day, and what a beautiful destination. i did not remind her that the first time she went to wallace falls i was there, she fell in the frigid water and the rest of the trip was ruined because i laughed before i saw the horror in her eyes ( that water can be lethally cold even in the spring ). i didn’t remind her because i didn’t want her to remind me. and i breathed a sigh of relief, because i knew i would cry at that stupid moment she got that stupid piece of paper.

it was not easy to get.

however, we were afforded a consolation.  they were back in town by evening, we all agreed to meet for dinner at the ex’s, and we did. over the course of the evening i learned that my daughter had a new job, and a new car. her boyfriend was looking for a new job too and they were looking at maps of california.

“going to california with an aching in my heart” – led zeppelin

i told her i might join her there. i’d probably see her more in california than i do here. i’m going to be a writer or an actor, something. she rolled her eyes, everybody did.

it was the first family event we’d had since the divorce eight years ago. it was magnificent. grandma looked great, my son was there (!) and we all played apples-to-apples. two dogs were running all over the cards and a cat to prove the dogs weren’t even cute (they were super-cute, but kittehs).

ferris beuller sc2

ferris beuller sc2

when it came time to leave, we discussed today. my son, the ferris beuller of gen-SC2 (starcraft 2) has been chronically truant for nearly two years. we’ve gone from physical gamesmanship (i win) to mental gamesmanship (first win against rango at age 12, commanding 500 pieces in a real-time strategy game) to emotional gamesmanship (everybody loses) finally ending in a draw: carrot-vs-stick anti-truancy diplomacy drawn to a fine art. juice & pastries, rabbits in the bed, a loud radio, a vacuum cleaner six feet from the bed, a guitar on full blast left to feedback, what ever it takes, every day. the ex reported me for child abuse and i was investigated for nearly six months.

rabbitz in yo bed

don’t make me do it

the last two months i don’t even have to wake him up anymore, the shower’s already running when i’m up. no more rabbits, and the pastries are in the kitchen until there’s none at all. the only bell he’s missed was when i overslept because i was convinced it was saturday. his mom’s pitching in, too.

so when the prosecutor that threatened him with juvenile prison using a justice officer and a piece of paper that bore my signature elected my son for an award for improved attendance, the ex & i ignored the fine details in the retelling (her signature was on it, too). we only mentioned the award, how great he was doing, this was our summer. his sister was graduating and he was getting an attendance award the very next day, some kindness at the podium, a reason to go out, maybe grab a movie afterword.

he was truly proud, and should be. everybody falls down, and it always hurts. but falling down is easy,getting up is the hard part, it takes courage & strength. not everybody gets up every time. those people fall through the cracks, and the social nets that have been designed to prevent this have been failing my son.

“you need to go home. there’s nothing more you can do” – junior high 2 years ago

it was a long drive to the awards ceremony and my son admitted his reluctance, but after the dinner and all the talk about his achievement, with explicit encouragement from his sister, he agreed to go. right up until it was time to go.

“it’s time to go” – rango

Zither Sculpture Grayscale Negative in A-Major

figure a: can’t imagine where they get it

we didn’t go. grandma got denied, junior got to relax, and all rango got was this stupid post. and i was relieved, because i knew i would cry and i already have plenty of photos to sort. besides, the sink’s been busted for days and i’m suffering from excessive time pressure. but first, a frenzy of messaging, people were already enroute and needed be informed of the cancellation.

one of them wouldn’t take no for an answer. a counselor from his support team at the new high school, all dressed up and already stuck in horrible seattle traffic, inquired if she could come over to shake his hand, congratulate him on his achievement.

“coffee, tea, or lemonade?” – rango

coffee it was. and despite the plumbing disaster at the sink, grandma got to show off the freshly mopped floor, a sparkling sink, and brought a blueberry pie to the table.

wallace falls

wanted: picnic

when the counselor showed up i gave her a tour of the ‪#‎bootspark‬ studio, and she sat in the old rocking chair, the blue throne. my only piece of furniture in a house dedicated to artistic imperative.

we had our awkward moment, grandma prompted us, and we made our way to the breakfast nook in the plumbing malfeasant kitchen, an old embedded island table & benches that sink too low.

coffee was served. my son joined us, and got his handshake. we ate blueberry pie from oregon and we talked at length about the extent of his achievement. we discussed our plans for the weekend, going shopping to start building him a new computer, bringing grandma with us, going to a movie. grandma was there the whole time and the pie was finished off before sundown ( i made sure of that). i proudly brought out‪ #‎turktherabbit‬, and the counselor took him right to her lap, grandma none too happy about rabbits at the table but the boys in the family sharing nods of approval.

it wasn’t what anybody wanted. it wasn’t what anybody had planned.  but it was every bit as unforgettable as wallace falls \m/~