Hey oneposteristas,

Apparently posting from Android was jacked up big time.

Sorry.

I am embarrassed to say I post rarely enough from my own Android phone that I didn't experience this for much too long.

But, it's fixed now! I installed a newer version of ckeditor which resolved the underlying issue.

I also added a "+" button for adding the next tag, in case you're on a device that won't let me capture the comma key for that purpose, which has been my own experience on Android.

"If a lady ever extends you a privilege — and it IS a privilege — you don't tell anyone. And don't ever think she owes it to you." — My father

Once in high school I was an asshole. OK, one time in particular. I was riding in my dad's car with my brother and a friend, and I recounted a rumor about the sexual activities of a female classmate.

My father pulled over, whipped his head around, and gave me the lecture of my life. Which ended with the paragraph above. I can still hear his voice as I think about it.

I usually think of my mother as the principal reason I have always been a feminist (aka "someone who considers women to be people"), but remembering this, I realize I haven't given my father enough credit.

He started out making a point about her privacy and her reputation, but also said something more important: it was hers to give. Hers alone. No one else's to take, or gossip about, or criticize.

We can go back to arguing about whether we "need feminism" when every father in the United States tees off on his son with this lecture. Well before it's too late. Just in fucking case.

Not "don't get caught." Not "we'll sweep it under the rug so you can keep swimming." Not "next time don't get so drunk, kiddo."

Hers to give. Not yours to take, or talk trash on. Ever.

I whipped up a Thai pizza tonight.

Ingredients:

1 large pizza dough ball. (Walk into a pizzeria and ask for a "dough ball." They will sell you one for around $3. Offer void at major national chains.)

1 red bell pepper
1 large onion
4-5 leaves of broccoli rabe
Olive oil
1/8 cup coconut milk
1 clove garlic

Preheat oven to 550 degrees. Seriously. Don't mess around, this is pizza.

Meanwhile, sautee onions in 2 tablespoons olive oil and a little salt until starting to brown.

Coarsely chop bell pepper, broccoli rabe and garlic. Toss in food processor and add coconut milk. Process briefly; don't let it completely homogenize.

Roll out dough ball. Stretch out onto pizza pan dusted with cornmeal to prevent sticking. 

Pour contents of food processor onto dough and spread around well.

Top with the onions. Bake for around 14 minutes or until allllmost blackening at the edges. (If your oven can't get to 550 degrees you may need to bake a little longer.)

Don't drown the pizza. This is the most common mistake and the reason you have to go easy on the coconut milk.

"Hey, don't you add any spices to this?" I find it's quite flavorful as-is, but sure, knock yourself out.

I'm seeing a lot of big-shot scientist talk about the probability that we live inside a simulation. I'm just a guy on the Internet who writes too much code, but... that's actually very relevant. So hear me out.

With all due respect... just as any computer can emulate any other computer, you can simulate a universe in a universe. But the performance hit is huge!

Yes, you can simulate certain physical processes in better than real time, but that's because you're taking liberties with stuff that doesn't matter to the highly specific question you're asking. When you simulate the stability of a bridge, you don't need to know if over a million years, a new species of slug would evolve to feed on the particular variety of bird poop that lands on that bridge.

But for the kind of open-ended simulation we imagine the aliens running, one in which we might emerge to wonder if we live inside it... shortcuts won't do.

Emulating, say, the Atari 2600 video game console is a much better analogy than simulating a bridge. For all of the games to work in your emulator, you must simulate every last wacky quirk of the original hardware, right down to the precise timing, because the people who wrote those games exploited every inch of that. And so does natural selection. If physics has a quirk that makes something just a little easier, evolution has probably exploited it, somewhere, sometime.

So if you want to simulate a universe that contains human brains, or something equally complex, in real time then you'll need hardware that beats the daylights out of the original hardware. That works for emulating video game consoles because modern computers are vastly faster. But all the aliens have to work with is a universe like the one they want to simulate.

So the beings running the simulation would have to wait, oh, let's say 100 years to see the results of one year, and that's optimistic. And the simulation would consume far more resources than the real thing.

You can trade off the latter for the former somewhat by running the simulation in parallel, because things can't interact with each other instantaneously at a vast distance. But you're definitely going to pay a huge price in terms of time, resources or both. 

Yes, they could be immortal and have the ability to slow their own perceptions of time. But it would still be much less of a hassle to set up the conditions that interest them on a real planet and just watch.

One problem with my "just use a control Earth and an experimental Earth" option is that it wouldn't allow you to experiment with different physical laws. I suppose it's conceivable that our hella-powerful aliens really, really want to know what evolves when the speed of light is, for instance, 299,792,459 meters per second.

But do they want to know that badly enough to tie up the resources of an entire galactic spiral arm in order to simulate one solar system? I doubt it. I think they want to ask more interesting questions.

And if they do ask more interesting questions... and if we're living in their simulation... that means the aliens live in a universe with significantly different physical laws than ours. And yes, that means it could be a universe where simulating things is easy — for some reason that seems absurd to me but makes sense given their totally different physics.

But that effectively puts us in the realm of metaphysics. How is running on a simulation inside a computer in an unrecognizable, unknowable universe different, from our standpoint, from the universe being the product of an unfathomable supreme being or natural process?

Fear is one answer. Science fiction authors speculate about the aliens getting bored and pulling the plug on the simulation, the aliens running out of funding and pulling the plug, or the simulation being inaccurate and one day calling an undefined function and shutting itself down. 

But if their fundamental physical laws are unknowably different than ours, then the usual scary speculations are not relevant because we don't know if people and programs in their universe actually have such tendencies, or completely different tendencies, such as just getting more awesome over time. Loosely speaking, we don't know if the laws of thermodynamics apply, or apply backwards, or emit golf-club particles on alternate Thursdays. Maybe the computer and the program both arose spontaneously because their native universe is like that. Who knows?

This throws a monkey wrench in the already sketchy machinery of trying to estimate the odds we live in a simulation in a way that has meaningful implications for us. Either the "host universe" simulating us is similar to ours, which makes it extremely difficult and expensive to simulate us, to the point where they would almost certainly just set aside some planets to watch instead... or it is dissimilar from ours, in which case there is no way of guessing at the future of the simulation because none of our assumptions hold. 

So I think Neil deGrasse Tyson is wrong. Sort of.

But hey, I'm prepared to be corrected.

Please do not adjust your universe. The slight disquiet you feel is because I've moved OnePo, Boutell.Com, and everything else I run to a different hosting provider. I did that to get more storage, better backups, and more RAM for less money. More RAM, in this case, cuts down on disruptions when I deploy my other apps. The old b-com was running pretty close to its limits.

I've been banging on all the bits and validating that everything is here. For instance, I'm attaching a photo to this message.

That photo just about sums up my present situation: disordered but excellent.

Blues: fearless beings with a magical sense of connection, just screwing around.

Fusion: blues dancing to electronica. Sshh, don't tell them.

Salsa: really pretty math.

Salsa rueda: really pretty partial differential equations.

Bachata: who decides if it's gonna be sexy? Not you, fella.

Cha cha: has nothing to do with Nicole Kidman.

Swing: would you like to dance jitterbug, lindy hop, balboa, charleston or west coast? Oh sorry, I'm a southgoing zax.

Waltz: surprisingly sexy seventy-year-olds in the suburbs. Do try to keep up.

Tango: anger management.

Foxtrot: a thing? I guess? The longer you've been social dancing, the less memory you have of your three foxtrot lessons at that ballroom studio ten years ago.

This recipe is heavily inspired by the New York Times no-knead bread recipe and has snuggled intimately with various bagel recipes on the Internets.

Prep time: 10 minutes
Clock time: 18-24 hours
Yield: 8 bagels

Ingredients

3 cups white flour
1 cup whole wheat flour
1 cup oatmeal (plus more for dusting)
1/2 teaspoon instant dry bread yeast
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1 tablespoon sugar
3 tablespoons honey (optional; improves the crumb)
2 cups water, and just a smidge more
Corn meal, for dusting
Kosher salt and crushed anise seed (or other toppings, or none)

Method

Day One

Mix the dry ingredients well in a large bowl. Add the water and mix, just enough to form a dough; do not knead. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap. let it sit overnight, ideally at room temperature. In winter I stash the bowl in front of a heat vent.

After at least 18 hours, wash your hands well and remove the dough, laying it on a surface sprinkled with oatmeal. Fold it over on itself a couple times; really, that's it. You don't have to knead it.

Wrap it up in the plastic wrap you just used for the bowl and let rest for 15 minutes.

Put down a cotton towel or napkin and sprinkle it with oatmeal. Then wrap the towel around the dough.

Day Two

Let the dough rise for 2 hours. Around the 1:45 mark, start preheating the oven to 450 degrees, and boil water in a large pot. Add the honey to the water and stir it in well. The honey greatly improves the crumb of the bagels.

Lay out the dough and cut into eight pieces. Pick up each piece, roll it out briefly between your hands and pinch the ends together to complete the ring. Don't worry if it doesn't look pretty! It just adds authenticity.

Dust a baking sheet liberally with cornmeal to prevent sticking. A non-stick baking sheet can't hurt. If you're out of cornmeal flour or oatmeal will do.

Boil three bagels at a time, until they float or for 20 seconds, but no longer. Remove bagels to the baking sheet. Don't put too many in at a time or the water will cool. Let the boil resume between batches.

Sprinkle lightly with kosher salt and crushed anise seed, fennel seed or other toppings. The middle eastern place around the corner from my office just happens to carry crushed anise seed and I bought some on a whim. I am not as cool as I sound.

Bake at 450 degrees for 20 minutes or until nicely browned.

Fresh bagels are insanely great right out of the oven with your favorite fixins. They also freeze well. I usually eat one almost immediately, let the rest cool, then put three in a bag on the counter and four in a freezer bag.

I tend to alternate between this recipe and simply making bread, which can be done with the same ingredients, but you'll want to add another 1/8th cup of water or so. Bagels pick up extra moisture in the boil and need to be tough enough to resist.

During my London semester, back in '89 (yikes), I spent some time at the Camden Palace. That was my first club dancing experience. I remember closing the joint a couple of times. It was out of character for me then, but I liked the physical abandon of it. Mostly though I didn't dance much in between my teenage bedroom and my mid-thirties.

When I was single again in my mid-thirties and looking to try new things, I finally took a swing dance class to satisfy a lifelong curiosity... And I nearly just ticked off that box and moved on. I'd missed the swing revival, and as far as I knew there was nowhere to go.

But a friend took me to Brasils Nightclub, the salsa club in Old City, Philadelphia. And I realized that this was a living, breathing scene and I could go dancing as often as I wanted. Which was a lot.

For weeks I'd come home every Friday with feet still dancing in my mind's eye.

But I was still a suburban Connecticut dude with two left feet, so I took private lessons until I had a much better idea what I was doing, then started hanging out at a local latin dance studio.

It takes longer for fellas, because we have to learn how to lead from an instructor. By contrast, once someone who dances the "follow" part has the basics down, they learn a lot from every good lead they dance with.

I've danced salsa for a number of years now and still enjoy it, but lately I've fallen for blues dancing. Blues is much more spontaneous and collaborative... the "lead" and "follow" roles are not so strict, and you'll come across women who prefer to lead some of the time. It's very easy to pick up.

It's a little like writing free verse after writing nothing but sonnets for nine years.

I first saw a performance of Ibsen's Hedda Gabler on the London stage in 1989. And I saw what everybody saw, in 1989: a modern woman marooned in 1890, acting out in desperation because she was denied the opportunity to develop as an individual. It's a fine reading of the play.

But tonight I saw the play again, in 2015, performed at Philadelphia's Physick House. And I saw something very different. I saw a human being marooned in 1989. Marooned without the Internet. (*)

The feminist reading is straightforward enough. While her father was alive, Hedda lived an independent, privileged life. She was largely sheltered from the harsh reality that women had limited control over their own lives in 1890. She is surrounded by women who are fulfilled in caretaker roles, whether they got to choose them or not: as servants, sisters, nurses. But she wants to be an adventurer, a bon vivant, the center of her social circle. And once she has been dragged into marriage, through the agency of a white lie grown unchecked, she has no more choices left. None but one.

But what about 2015? In 2015 this play is about a human being deprived of Facebook. In 2015, Hedda Gabler is almost a horror movie, where the monster is 1989.

Yes, 1989: it was a time when you had to sit on the couch and share the remote with your immediate family. All night. Every night.

True, in 1989 you might escape into a book, or a video game, or certain early online activities. But alas, poor Hedda: she is not a bookworm. Her talents are social. She shines among friends.

And our social animal must endure a six-month honeymoon, in a country where she knows no one. She is forced to talk to the same person, all day, every day. She cannot even flee to the bathroom to check Facebook or Snapchat for a few seconds. There is only this: only her husband. Every minute of every day. Horror movie. Cue creepy music.

Is she lonely because she does not speak the language? No, Ibsen hints at something far more specific. Her prime complaint:

"To go for six whole months without meeting a soul that knew anything of our circle, or could talk about the things we are interested in."

Ponder how strange this is to imagine today. We are, every day, the President of our own fan club. We are never, ever away from "our circle" except by choice. OK, maybe for a two-week honeymoon. But for six months?

Hedda is a piece of work in many ways, and there are many threads that make up her downfall. Some feel devastatingly relevant today; some are a bit too melodramatic, but great fun in the right hands. But to me, in 2015, this stands out: as her father's daughter she had the Facebook friends she wanted, and took for granted that she could write on their walls any time she wanted, check for updates any time she wanted. And then: all gone.

All gone but one, and he holds a nasty bit of leverage over her; her snapchats will not erase themselves.

Everyone else has their place in the social order, or stumbles into a new one, despite her machinations. But Hedda has none, and she can't just go on okcupid and start over. Of course she has only one choice.

The past is a cruel place. Cue spooky music.

"But apart from that, Mr. Boutell, how was the play?" Very fine indeed. Just to touch on a few highlights:

Photographer Kyle Cassidy, as producer, somehow made this thing happen in Philadelphia's historic Physick House. You are right there bang in front of the actors in a sitting room. It's intense in a good way. And there will be a film of the play, too.

Naturally this all happened because of the Internet. And a kickstarter. And blood, sweat and tears, of course.

Jennifer Summerfield simmered gloriously as Hedda. Each micro- and not-so-micro-aggression came through with nuance and range. The melodrama that does tend to overwhelm the text at times never prevented her from connecting honestly with the audience.

Every time Hedda stopped working overtime to charm someone, she radiated an anger that said "I may have signed up for this, but it is not what I want. And I will never, ever accept it."

Adam Altman, as Hedda's new husband, plays the part of the self-absorbed nerd to perfection, enthusing about his research every time his aunt pleads for the slightest hint that they might be in a family way. And I say this with affection as a self-absorbed nerd. But even he can access family feeling, and so has a secure place that Hedda cannot reach.

Speaking of the aunt, Tanya Lazar's reading is also spot-on. Juliana Tesman lives through caring for others; she lives through family.

Of course she does. What else is there?

Well... what else was there? Now we have families of choice. Tribes of choice. Infinite overlapping personal fan clubs.

But shouldn't family, whether of origin or of choice, still be the most important thing? Yes, yes, of course. Hedda is an extreme case. But excuse me for a moment while I step into the other room and peek at my phone for a glorious minute. A guy can only take so much togetherness. Brr. Cue spooky music.

Tickets are still available. Playing through Sunday, December 20th.

(*) Yes, I know the Internet existed in 1989. And I personally had access to some of the escapes I'm talking about as early as 1986. But most people didn't, and their friends certainly didn't, and a social network without the people you know isn't really The Social Network yet.

Yesterday I had the pleasure of hanging out with three marvelous OPWistas in person. And I got a well-deserved yet gentle and loving earful about some longstanding requests I haven't seen to after many moons.

So last night I hit a few tickets:

1. You can now edit your comments! Frickin' finally. Enjoy. There is a little "edited" label next to comments that have been edited. That's to be fair to people who replied to the original comment; their remarks might otherwise seem excessive after the original commenter makes changes.

2. You can change your blog name via "Account Settings." That is to say, I could change "/boutell" to "/grumpycat", if I wanted. If you do this, be aware that your old URLs will not redirect. This is mostly meant for people who made a typo when they signed up.

3. Visible "undo/redo" buttons in the text editor. It was pointed out to me that OPW has no undo and redo buttons for text edits. Yes, the common keyboard shortcuts work, but there's no reason to assume we have them if we don't advertise them! Now you can find these features right on the toolbar. This will save you from grief especially when editing on mistake-prone devices like phones and tablets.

4. Edit: no more losing comments by accidentally leaving the page! My first take on this didn't work for iPhones, so I changed up the fix. If you have unsaved text in a comment, you'll now get a confirmation prompt if you accidentally mash a link that would take you away. Also, that pesky "posting as Dr. Whackadoodle" link is no longer an actual link in new comments. It was very easy to tap it by accident on a phone.

More is coming! The next most passionate request seems to be a way to tag posts.

The comment-saver feature isn't perfect. It can't stop you from accidentally hitting "back," for instance.