Photographic remembrance continues to be on my mind after watching Black Mirror’s Eulogy. In that spirit, here’s a picture of me I quite like. It captures the energy that I hope I bring to conversations involving the intersection of government policy and technology. I call it “CTO Mode”:
More photos to come in the next couple of days, as I’m finally going to go back and deliver on this promise.
As I’ve gotten older, it’s become increasingly important to me to capture (usually digital) relics of what I’ve been up to. Mostly for my own benefit, but it’s a good professional habit regardless.
Five years ago today I was part of a team launching a new website and associated automated phone system helping unemployment insurance claimants at the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic. I wish I’d done more to document our midnight release event, because it was a pivotal moment in my career. But I do have this one blurry screenshot:
This launch had a trifecta of positivity: a meaningful use case, cool technology, and (most importantly) it all actually worked! I’ve been doing this almost 25 years, and it’s rare to have all that come together. It made such an indelible memory that several of us have found ways to continue working together since.
(Obviously I didn’t get the memo about hoodies; instead opting for formalwear. No regrets on that one!)
Speaking effectively to non-technical people can be a challenge for technical folks, but it’s an essential task for all but the most mundane (read: least-effective) of roles. One mechanism that I’ve found helpful is the use of metaphor. I’m a huge fan of trying to describe complex topics by mapping them to more broadly understood concepts. Being able to come up with such mappings fluently is a powerful skill. There may be many ways to develop it, but I suspect one is cultivating a wide set of interests.
While I was writing Tuesday’s post, it occurred to me that today’s Generative AI tools are to software what today’s 3D printers are to physical objects. On one hand, it’s incredible to be able to provide a specification and have it manifested in near real-time. Printers can make a variety of solids: toys, some kinds of replacement parts, that sort of thing. GenAI can create chunks of useful code, quick user interfaces, and basic apps, like my Pinochle scoresheet. But there are limits. Can either of these tools produce high tolerance, precision parts / highly secure, performant code? Can they build complex solutions like electronics / web browsers?
I could be wrong, but just like we’re a long ways from 3D printing an iPhone, we seem a ways away from vibe coding Microsoft Word or an entire government system of record.
Over two years ago I bought a few domains with the intent of building a tool for keeping track of card game scores. Like many of the best laid plans, I didn’t get around to doing so. Until now.
With the advent of GenAI and “vibe coding” I figured there was no longer any excuse. I spun up Lovable and started prompting. The results? Not bad. Not bad at all. With maybe a dozen prompts and half an hour, you can see the results at onlinescoresheet.net. What was most impressive for me is that I was able to simply ask the model to do Pinochle scoring, and it was able to understand what that meant and implement it without me explaining the rules.
What’s up next? I’d like to generalize the scoring system to be configurable, or at the least add explicit support for a few more game types. I’d also like to dig into the source code to evaluate quality. Should be fun!
I’m a fairly good archivist. Today I happened to be rooting around some old files from college, and found (amongst other things I’m not going to share here) a paper I wrote in 1999 about the leadership style of Thomas J. Watson of IBM. I concluded with this summary that perhaps is still relevant today?
I can mostly still agree, though that bit about autocracy makes me wonder.
Quasi-related factoid: I remember this class well because I pulled an all-nighter right before the final, not to study, but to drive across the state to the Lennox Theater in Columbus to watch The Phantom Menace at midnight. Good times, but a poor choice in retrospect.
Naming is hard. But not so hard that choosing this package name could have been mistaken as a good idea. Yeesh.
I’ve been an Android user since the original Motorola Droid was released back in 2009. However, last month I finally broke down and made the switch to iOS.
I didn’t buy new, though. Because I don’t like big phones, I found myself a refurbished iPhone 13 Mini. It’s perfect. Sure do wish Apple would acknowledge the ongoing market for small devices, but it seems they’re well and truly dead. Maybe I should get a second Mini as a backup, especially since I’m case-free?
We’re all pretty big Lord of the Rings fans in our house, both books and movies. A few months ago we rewatched Return of the King, and I was struck by a couple moments in the dénouement that are worth talking about.
The first is one I’ve loved for a while. The hobbits have returned to the Shire and are together enjoying some well-deserved ales. Their reflective mood is in stark contrast to the conviviality around them, in particular one fellow who is showing off a massive pumpkin he’s grown. Our heroes don’t seem to mind the attention he’s getting; they’re content to sit in silence, apart from the crowd, with nothing more than a toast and some knowing glances.
No one else in that pub understands the grave danger they, and the whole of Middle-earth, were in. No expressions of thanks will come to Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin. But that’s okay. It’s how it’s supposed to be. Leaders make the sacrifices so that those in their care can enjoy their pumpkins, and they seek not the credit. Fellowship amongst a small circle of friends who know the story is enough.
But even within that circle, there’s layers to the levels of awareness. It wasn’t until this most recent viewing that I realized that only Sam knows the full story: that Frodo had fallen at the last to the power of the ring, and its destruction was only completed through earlier mercy shown to Gollum, and some luck.
What Sam chooses to do with this knowledge is worthy of especial praise. When the fellowship is reunited in Rivendell, joy and celebration surround Frodo. Even the wizard Gandalf smiles in approval. Sam is late to the party, but catches Frodo’s eye from across the room.
In that moment, I wonder if Frodo is briefly afraid that Sam will interrupt with a tale of how he had to carry Frodo the final stretch, and that Frodo essentially failed, claiming the ring as his own. It would be the truth. But Sam doesn’t do that, and his expression says he never will. It’s as if he said, “I know that you aren’t a perfect hero. That at the end you did things you’re not proud of, even to me. But you gave everything you had, and the job got done. That’s worth celebrating. Fear not, my friend. Some things are just between us.”
I’m not sure if this is canon, but I imagine no one else, not even Gandalf, ever learned what really went down on the slopes of Mount Doom. That too is okay, because Middle-earth survives regardless. And that’s what ultimately matters.
Nothing thrills quite like launch day, and this time, it was nearly literal. It’s been a privilege to have been involved in this work, and fun that I can (finally) talk about it in public. I mean, when it’s on the news that’s gotta mean something right? You can check it out right here if you’re so inclined.
Hopefully the above partly explains why I’ve been pretty quiet here. As I said last month: crunch time. It’s certainly not for lack of ideas; sitting on 95 draft posts as I type. Someday I’ll get through the backlog. Or not. But it’ll be okay regardless.
I don’t use that title lightly. Not sure how I’ve never heard of git worktrees before, but I’ll definitely be giving them a spin.
Speaking of git, I don’t normally do a lot of coding in my day job, but crunch time is crunch time:
If nothing else, it’s cathartic to stretch those muscles.
