Objectivist-C was invented by Russian-American programmer Ope Rand. Based on the principle of rational self-interest, Objectivist-C was influenced by Aristotle's laws of logic and Smalltalk. In an unorthodox move, Rand first wrote about the principles of Objectivist-C in bestselling novels, and only later set them down in non-fiction.

Here's what you need to know to program in Objectivist-C.

[...]

In Objectivist-C, there are not only properties, but also property rights. Consequently, all properties are @private; there is no @public property.

In Objectivist-C, each program is free to acquire as many resources as it can, without interference from the operating system.

[...]

[Via jwz]

2 Arigata-meiwaku (Japanese): An act someone does for you that you didn't want to have them do and tried to avoid having them do, but they went ahead anyway, determined to do you a favor, and then things went wrong and caused you a lot of trouble, yet in the end social conventions required you to express gratitude

[...]

8 Gigil (pronounced Gheegle; Filipino): The urge to pinch or squeeze something that is unbearably cute

[Via LinkMachineGo!]

>>>>All of the Bonds in one film? I'd watch that.

This.

I've wanted to see this for years. And it could still happen.

A film that establishes what we've all known for years: James Bond is an assumed name, a title, a role that is filled time and time again. Like the Dread Pirate Roberts, perhaps, only armed with a Walther PPK. A Bond only remains a Bond until the stress is too much or they're forced into retirement. The XXXX'd out Bond is given a new name, a new story, a new life. They're sent to somewhere quiet, perhaps even brainwashed to forget. (Heck, maybe they're given a number and sent to The Village …)

And the plot just writes itself. Some force of ill will uncovers the truth about the Bonds, attacks the weakest of the retired (let's just say it's the Lazenby Bond, as he's mostly doing the 'Con circuit these days and would work best as a pre-credit cameo), and presents some kind of Massive Global Threat that derives its origin from pieces of plot device from all of the Bond films going back to Dr No.

The only way to stop him is to trace back through secrets held back by all of the other previous Bonds, so they're all reactivated. In reverse order. Each one in a different exotic or horribly mundane location. Craig is in prison undercover and incommunicado initially, Brosnan is posing as a restaurateur in Monaco, Dalton is conducting an orchestra in Calgary, Moore is bearded, wearing mirror shades and destroying wanna-bes in the World Series of Poker in Vegas … and then we find Connery, polishing the bar at a pub in Edinburgh. He's the one that won't go without convincing, naturally.

And they're all tracked down by an MI6 operative, one of the two entrusted with the secret, but kept most of his days behind a desk. Highly trained, but untested.

Let's say that this guy is played by … Idris Elba.

What you end up with is something like The Five Doctors, only with a massive budget, huge explosions, cracking dialogue and a badass film score.

posted by grabbingsand at 3:00 PM on May 21 [138 favorites +]

Tell me you wouldn't watch that.

Such are the orbital mechanics of the Saturn system and Cassini's orbital trajectory that it's taken nearly eight years for the probe to get close enough to take a high resolution image of Methone. It's been worth the wait.

What an odd looking moon.

The City Ballet orchestra is funny to me: they're kind of the Most Entrenched orchestra in terms of unionization in New York, I'd say. They are also a sort of national treasure: New York is, and always should be, I think, a place that does dance with live orchestral music because it is fabulous. There is not a thing better, in fact, than going to see that Nutcracker. I remember a few years ago I supported, as a member of the musicians' union, their contract renegotiation, which argued, I had thought, that they should be allowed to miss a rehearsal for something like Nutcracker, which they've played ninety million times before, as long as they hired a substitute for themselves, and came back and played the show. This is, fundamentally fair; while the dancers need to relearn the piece afresh each year on their bodies, the music for that piece hasn't changed around in a century or two. I'm not sure if this approach is quite right for a new piece, though; the practical reality of the situation is that every time I looked into the pit it was Totally Different Human Beings playing major roles. The concertmaster and many of the strings remained the same, and we sort of built up a rapport, and those who stayed around got really comfortable with the piece, which is the fun (and perhaps the point?) of rehearsal. Between the the first rehearsal and the first show, we had like three different English horn players? The principal second violin – a big part in this piece! – shuffled around, the harpist (also important) was different. It's a strange universe, orchestral musicians; I'm not sure I'd like to play a show for which I hadn't been at a rehearsal. I do like the idea, in a weird, abstract sense, of writing music in which any one participant can hand over her part to another person, like a relay race…although that isn't quite what I had intended in this piece! City Ballet employed a very good trick which is that they have one arts administrator who is so lovely and friendly one feels terrible cussing him out about Nancy Drew and the Case of That's Totally Not The Same English Horn, and then somebody else who's actually more in charge who is a Person Invisible, as in, secret doorways and smoke, and hallways of mirrors, with whom one never quite gets a proper audience. If I write another ballet for them, which I really hope I will, I'll make the orchestral parts deliberately modular, or maybe even change them each day, so there's a sense of always being somebody else's substitute. It's like that dream where you turn up expected to give a talk about something you don't fully grasp; sometime there arises a gorgeous spontaneity, perhaps even more gorgeous than what would have resulted through months of preparation.

[Via Snarkmarket]

Ravintolapäivä is "Restaurant Day" [...] After starting in Helsinki a year ago, Ravintolapäivä's role is to suggest "a food carnival when anyone can open a restaurant for a day".

Which it is, although this doesn't quite describe the genesis of the event, which came out of frustration with the effort required to set up a restaurant in Helsinki, of the kind that is open for more than a single day. [...]

Today, though, the sun was shining, the streets were full, and that frustration was long forgotten, given the explosion of invention on offer. [...]

For instance, our first stop this morning was for breakfast served from a little wicker basket lowered from a first floor window into the group of waiting customers below. Euros are stuffed in the basket, and up it goes. You shout up your order. Breakfast comes back.

The string had a menu attached, featuring egg and bacon, or eggs benedict, in home-baked English muffins (both hot bacon sandwiches and English muffins are extremely difficult to come by in Helsinki.) This is, again, not exactly within the law, but if this is considered a problem, then I believe the saying is the law is an ass. [...]

[Via Bad Astronomy]

[Via swissmiss]

[Via Daring Fireball]