Arrrgh. Now, repeat after me:

Repeat after me:

• Registration is not Authentication is not Authorization is not Utilization.
• Registration is not Authentication is not Authorization is not Utilization.
• Registration is not Authentication is not Authorization is not Utilization.

I’ll keep reminding myself of that until I figure out how to disentangle the four from this damned Facebook app.  Registering to use the app is not the same thing as authenticating to use the app, and it’s definitely not authorization to determine your level access.  Nor is any of this related to callbacks to the social application network to give you things like lists of friends and writing on your wall; that’s outside the responsibility of SocialAuth anyway.

This entry was automatically cross-posted from Elf's technical journal, ElfSternberg.com

The Curmudgeon Report

Have I always been a curmudgeon?

This morning, on the way into work, a man was sitting on the train across from me, reading from the Bible. The Book of Psalms, more precisely, although I couldn't tell you where he was.

Aloud.

He was dressed in a black linen suit and had rings on all of his fingers. He wasn't preacher loud, or evangelist loud, just... aloud. It was kinda annoying in an oversharing kind of way. Headphones drowned him out, but I resented the necessity. Music should be a treat and a setter of mood. Using it as a barrier feels wrong.

I got to my destination only to realize that my bicycle lock had fallen off somewhere. I'm not sure where. The plastic piece that holds the lock to the bicycle had broken off.

This afternoon, as I rode my bicycle to the train station from the "office," (I'll keep putting quotes around that until we start making money), I passed a pair of young people, early 20s maybe, as as I did so the young woman of the pair bent over and vomited electric green all over the sidewalk. Lovely. Then she walked on as if nothing had happened.

She had the temerity to ask me for "spare change." I thought, Young lady, you just threw up on a sidewalk maintained with my taxes. I refuse to contribute to whatever habits you have.. I just told her the truth: "I don't carry money with me."

Getting off the train, I had to take my bike off the proided bike mount. There are a pair of seats across from it, and in them was a man about my age and a young girl about Kouryou-chan's. He looked up at me, bleary-eyed, and gestured. "Go on, get off," he said. He sounded slightly belligerent, but so very drunk he couldn't follow through. I said I'd like for them to get off first, so I can take my bike off the mount without risking hitting the little girl with it. "Okay, okay," he said, and unsteadily stood. The little girl took his hand and led him off the train. As she left, she glanced back at me with that look of deep apology only children can make for their parents.

The Ultimate White Trash Hero!

Spike has a list of the Top Ten White Trash Heroes of Cinema. Number one is absolutely spot on. Ignore the rest. #1 is perfect.

Really.