My Faults My Own

…willing to sacrifice something we don't have

for something we won't have, so somebody will someday.

IN WHICH Ross Rheingans-Yoo—an artist, economist, poet, trader, ex-pat, EA, and programmer—oc­cas­ion­al­ly writes on things of int­erest.

Reading Feed (last update: December 15)

A collection of things that I was glad I read. Views expressed by linked authors are chosen because I think they're interesting, not because I think they're correct, unless indicated otherwise.


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Blog: Marginal Revolution | A social credit system for scientists? — Chinese scientists, that is, and fraudsters at that. What, would you rather be soft on fraud?


(14)

Blog: JeffTK | Taking a Safety Report

Comic: xkcd | arXiv — "...invaluable projects which, if they didn't exist, we would dismiss as obviously ridiculous and unworkable."


(13)

Blog: Thing of Things | Scrupulosity Sequence #3: Load-Bearing Things

Blog: JeffTK | Not losing things — "I almost never lose things, especially important things like my keys, laptop, or ear warmers. Here's an attempt to write up the system I use, in case it's useful to others..."


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Blog: Tyler

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A Verse for Commencement Day

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,  
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,  
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,  
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;  
                         But O heart! heart! heart! 
                            O the bleeding drops of red, 
                               Where on the deck my Captain lies, 
                                  Fallen cold and dead. 

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;  
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,  
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,  
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;  
                         Here Captain! dear father! 
                            This arm beneath your head! 
                               It is some dream that on the deck, 
                                 You’ve fallen cold and dead. 

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,  
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,  
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage
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