Stuff = Object = (attributes and behaviors)

The starting point for understanding object oriented programming is to understand the nature of stuff. Programming started as step-by-step instructions for a computer to execute. If you changed the objective, you had to change the directive. Procedural programming made life a bit easier by allowing programmers to write methods for types of behaviors. If you were collecting names and addresses a procedural program would process a series of steps as one method for your collection. New person? New form, new identification number, etc. While this was better, it wasn't ideal. The world is stuff, not just procedures. Object oriented programming was a revolution because it treated the inner world of the computer like the outer reality.

Object = (Attributes (are nouns), Behaviors (are verbs));

OOP recognizes that objects and their inherent attributes and behaviors are...inheritable. A human can be an educator; and educator can be a teacher; a teacher can be a math expert. The math expert inherits back to the person all of the attributes and behaviors, while at the same time being different in so many ways from an artist.

OOP creates a streamlined logic that resembles the world in the way that a high level language resembles English.

R.I.P.

The guy you wrote about in your blog, Cliff, passed away in his bed last night. Just thought I'd let you know.

Eric

I will miss this

The heat of the days causes the maple leaves to hang semi-inflated. They swing in the cooling breeze that rises off of the plains and onto this hill. There is a haze upon the main street and the population of student, teachers, administrators and business folks trade places on the sidewalk in a long drawn out square dance to the music of reving motorcycles and cars with air conditioners. In five minutes I have seen five people to whom I have recently been acquainted, and they wave, smile, or fain a sweat in the near vertical sun rays. I wait for the crossing sign with the others and make my way across the bricks trying to record in my memory their unevenness. But I will leave this place, because it is not home, and it will fade into the haze like Brigadoon and that will be fine. Athens I know your soul.

Beyond my wall there's a...fencer?

Splat

I found an unfriendly message under my wiper blade recently. The gist of the typed note expressed a certain frustration regarding my choice of parking spot and the dimensions of my "biodiesel behemoth." I studied the unsigned note, and then I walked around the van to see how it might be causing so much unhappiness. Nothing seemed particularly foul to me. The front wheels were snug against the cement parking wedge and the rear wheels were almost perfectly aligned between the white parking stripes.

The note had also made an off-color remark about the vans length. Now, there is no doubt that the van is tall and long, but it always fits well within the boundaries of the average parking spot. But, just to make sure, I looked at the distance between my rear bumper and the next row's rear bumpers and saw no significant impingement.

I just didn't get it. I just couldn't see what was the big issue. But being the good citizen of the world that I am, I took the note into consideration when I parked the big fella in the same lot later that weekend.

After a week, I went down to check on van and was relieved to discover no new communications from the secretive parking critic. I hopped in and drove out to the shopping district. When I pulled into the tight - "more is better" - parking spot at Wal-Mart I took a stroll around the van to make sure that I wasn't going to expose myself to anymore punitive comments. (Who knew where the critic might turn up.) It was then that I saw it.

About six feet up the side of the van was a dent. When I looked more closely, I noticed two greasy hand prints on either side of the dent. Closer still and I noticed the telltale scratches of a metal on metal and the scuff of a black rubber tire where it had careened off my lower body panel. In a flash, the riddle of the note became clear to me.

I had parked the van at the bottom of a steep ramp which passes between the upper and lower campus along the backside of the arts building. I could see in my mind how the cyclist was absently gliding down the walkway gaining easy speed. There's no doubt that he spotted the van from the top of the ramp but I'm guessing he underestimated the extent of the behemoth hidden beyond the corner of the building. He probably came off that ramp thinking he'd be able to just swoop behind another average-sized white, sheet-metal box on wheels, and zoom out into the quiet parking lot with room to spare.

I imagine it must have been quite a shock when the van body failed to terminate at the expected length. Fortunately - judging by the shape of the dent - the rider had the good sense to wear a helmet. Must have made an embarrassing noise though.

Top three questions college students ask

1> Will this be on the midterm?

2> Will this be on the final?

3> When is the final?

Email Haiku

I've been noticing lately that when an email message bounces back and forth between different client/servers certain parts of the message get shifted and highlighted in different colors by the computer's attempt to format the message. The result: email haiku.

Here is a Red Haiku where only the red highlighted words are used.

You think, where, when, stuck
use time I would be wrestling
flights and hotels, Yahoo!

A Blue Haiku has a different feel. More lyrical.

See you then, 4PM
meet you, too, and said little
forever, probably good