CARVIEW |
April 10, 2005
Hackers and Pastry Chefs
In Maciej Ceglowski's cutting counterpoint to Paul Graham's Hackers and Painters, he cites a key difference between software development and painting: writing software doesn't get you laid.
There's nothing whatsoever distinctive about the analogy to painters, except that Paul Graham likes to paint, and would like to feel that his programming allows him a similar level of self-expression. The reason Graham's essay isn't entitled "Hackers and Pastry Chefs" is not because there is something that unites painters and programmers into a secret brotherhood, but because Paul Graham likes to cultivate the arty aura that comes from working in the visual arts. Having been both a painter and a programmer, I can certainly sympathize with him.Great paintings, for example, get you laid in a way that great computer programs never do. Even not-so-great paintings - in fact, any slapdash attempt at splashing paint onto a surface - will get you laid more than writing software, especially if you have the slightest hint of being a tortured, brooding soul about you. For evidence of this I would point to my college classmate Henning, who was a Swedish double art/theatre major and on most days could barely walk.
Also remark that in painting, many of the women whose pants you are trying to get into aren't even wearing pants to begin with. Your job as a painter consists of staring at naked women, for as long as you wish, and this day in and day out through the course of a many-decades-long career. Not even rock musicians have been as successful in reducing the process to its fundamental, exhilirating essence.
It's no surprise, then, that a computer programmer would want to bask in some of the peripheral coolness that comes with painting, especially when he has an axe to grind about his own work being 'mere engineering'.
Maciej also notes the self-celebratory rock-starriness that sometimes emerges in popular software development figures; I've definitely observed this first hand. You need a dash of this stuff to be a good leader or public speaker, but a little goes a long way:
I blame Eric Raymond and to a lesser extent Dave Winer for bringing this kind of schlock writing onto the Internet. Raymond is the original perpetrator of the "what is a hacker?" essay, in which you quickly begin to understand that a hacker is someone who resembles Eric Raymond. Dave Winer has recently and mercifully moved his essays off to audio, but you can still hear him snorfling cashew nuts and talking at length about what it means to be a blogger . These essays and this writing style are tempting to people outside the subculture at hand because of their engaging personal tone and idiosyncratic, insider's view. But after a while, you begin to notice that all the essays are an elaborate set of mirrors set up to reflect different facets of the author, in a big distributed act of participatory narcissism.
Blogs certainly don't help matters in this regard. To be fair, I've subscribed to egoless group blogs and they do suffer in comparison-- a strong, personal voice is a much more compelling read.
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There was, in fact, nothing new about computer viruses except their existence. Viruses had been foreseen in science fiction; the earliest use of the term has been traced to a series of short stories itten in the 1970s by David Gerrold. In 1972 Gerrold employed virus theme for a sci-fi potboiler called When HARLIE Was. HARLIE was an acronym for Human Analogue Robot Life Input Equivalents computer, which meant simply that the ficional creation could duplicate every function of the human brain--a sort of mechanical equivalent of Dr. Frankenstein's monster. This robot could also dial up other computers by telephone and reprogram them or modify data. In so doing, HARLIE was emulating a computer program called simply virus, which dialed up telephone numbers at random. When it found another computer at the end of the line, it loaded a copy of itself ontothe new machine, which started dialing other comlters to transfer copies of the program, and so on. Soon hundreds of computers were tied up randomly calling numbers.
The Virus program was fictional, of course, and simply part of Gerrold's convoluted plot, but the concept of a computer program reproducing itself had been foreseen as early as 1948.
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https://www.textfiles.com/etext/MODERN/approach.txt
Typo: "...doesn't you laid"? - should be "...doesn't *get* you laid".
Sorry to nitpick on an old post but the typo was the punchline in bold so I had to.
Great blog otherwise.
Content (c) 2009 Jeff Atwood. Logo image used with permission of the author. (c) 1993 Steven C. McConnell. All Rights Reserved. |