In France, horse races happen every day of the year and you can bet on horses through the PMU, the "Pari Mutuel Urbain". Nowadays, you can bet through the Internet, but back in the eighties, there was no Internet. But you could use a device called the "Minitel".
The Minitel was a small terminal with a modem on your telephone line. 1200 bauds download and 75 bauds upload.
So, in the eighties, I decided to bet on horses. I did not know anything about horses, but I had a plan. I bought every day a newspaper named Paris-Turf. In it, there was for each race of the day prognoses by various horse tipsters that were supposed to know what they were doing.
I wrote a program to compute statistics about the different races, the prognoses and the results of the different races. After a month of getting these data, my program started to indicate when there was a good chance that I would make money on some bets.
So, I started to follow the instructions from my program. I did that for one full year. Sometimes I would win, sometimes I would lose. As I remember, I have bet around 60,000 francs, but I was down only 3,000 francs. It was in fact cheap entertainment.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Monday, July 04, 2011
Showing my conjugator to my father
In the 80s, as I was still in the French Navy, in my spare time, I had written a program to conjugate all the French verbs, a conjugator.
The data came from a French dictionary and from a very popular book of conjugations of French verbs. I had entered all this data manually.
You could enter any verbal form and the program would display the full conjugation of all the verbs that include this verbal form.
My father had never liked computers. I think he was afraid of them, because he did not understand how they worked.
I told him that I had written this conjugator program and I wanted to show it to him. He was very reticent but finally I was able sit him in front of my computer.
After I explained how this conjugator worked, I asked him to give me any verbal form he wanted to demonstrate the capabilities of the program.
He chose "aille". He expected the program to display the verb "aller" (to go), where "aille" is in the present subjunctive.
So, I entered "aille" and the first verb displayed was "ailler", where "aille" is in the present indicative. "Ail" in French means garlic and the verb "ailler" means "to add garlic to", for example to a leg of lamb. My father did not know of this verb and considered that it was not a real French verb.
Even after I pressed "next" and the program displayed the conjugation of the verb "aller", he was still convinced that my program was useless. That reinforced his dislike of computers.
The data came from a French dictionary and from a very popular book of conjugations of French verbs. I had entered all this data manually.
You could enter any verbal form and the program would display the full conjugation of all the verbs that include this verbal form.
My father had never liked computers. I think he was afraid of them, because he did not understand how they worked.
I told him that I had written this conjugator program and I wanted to show it to him. He was very reticent but finally I was able sit him in front of my computer.
After I explained how this conjugator worked, I asked him to give me any verbal form he wanted to demonstrate the capabilities of the program.
He chose "aille". He expected the program to display the verb "aller" (to go), where "aille" is in the present subjunctive.
So, I entered "aille" and the first verb displayed was "ailler", where "aille" is in the present indicative. "Ail" in French means garlic and the verb "ailler" means "to add garlic to", for example to a leg of lamb. My father did not know of this verb and considered that it was not a real French verb.
Even after I pressed "next" and the program displayed the conjugation of the verb "aller", he was still convinced that my program was useless. That reinforced his dislike of computers.
Sunday, July 03, 2011
Chroniques and Collectives
On both side of the family, my grandparents had a large number of children. When their children started to have children and there were some news that were worth dissaminating to the rest of the family, both my grandfathers started a circular letter around 1952.
On my mother's side the circular letter is called "la Collective" and on my father's side, it is called "la Chronique".
Everybody would write to my grandfathers and they would give their own news and those of their children that they had received in a circular letter that was sent to everybody who did not live in their house.
When my paternal grandfather started to decline in the sixties, my father took over. When my maternal grandfather died, my father also took over. So, his brothers, sisters, stepbrothers and stepsisters wrote to him and he published the circular letters weekly.
Originally, my father used a duplicating machine from the brand name Gestetner. Then, in the 80s he bought small self-contained word processors (from the brand names Philips and Cannon) and photocopiers.
When he started to decline in the 90s, my mother took over, still using the word-processors and the photocopiers.
We had a hard time persuading my mother to get a computer. She agreed on the condition that she would get a laptop. At this time, that made no economic sense, because a laptop was costing more than twice the price of a desktop. On hindsight, she was right. She got a used laptop and started to learn to use Microsoft Word. She was still printing, photocopying and sending the circular letters by snail mail.
Around 2000, I persuade her to get the Internet. So, she was able to send the letters through e-mail.
She is still writing the two original circular letters, twice a month. Recently, she has started another circular letter, the "Bulletin Paul", to disseminate the news of the descendants of my parents.
At 90 years of age, she still continue to publish two family newsfeeds that have been in publication for almost sixty years. She has more than 100 subscribers, from three generations, most of them receiving the circular letters by e-mail.
The publication of the original Chronique and Collective will cease when she dies or are no longer able to publish. It is possible that one of my brother or sister will be able to take over the Bulletin Paul, but nothing is for sure.
On my mother's side the circular letter is called "la Collective" and on my father's side, it is called "la Chronique".
Everybody would write to my grandfathers and they would give their own news and those of their children that they had received in a circular letter that was sent to everybody who did not live in their house.
When my paternal grandfather started to decline in the sixties, my father took over. When my maternal grandfather died, my father also took over. So, his brothers, sisters, stepbrothers and stepsisters wrote to him and he published the circular letters weekly.
Originally, my father used a duplicating machine from the brand name Gestetner. Then, in the 80s he bought small self-contained word processors (from the brand names Philips and Cannon) and photocopiers.
When he started to decline in the 90s, my mother took over, still using the word-processors and the photocopiers.
We had a hard time persuading my mother to get a computer. She agreed on the condition that she would get a laptop. At this time, that made no economic sense, because a laptop was costing more than twice the price of a desktop. On hindsight, she was right. She got a used laptop and started to learn to use Microsoft Word. She was still printing, photocopying and sending the circular letters by snail mail.
Around 2000, I persuade her to get the Internet. So, she was able to send the letters through e-mail.
She is still writing the two original circular letters, twice a month. Recently, she has started another circular letter, the "Bulletin Paul", to disseminate the news of the descendants of my parents.
At 90 years of age, she still continue to publish two family newsfeeds that have been in publication for almost sixty years. She has more than 100 subscribers, from three generations, most of them receiving the circular letters by e-mail.
The publication of the original Chronique and Collective will cease when she dies or are no longer able to publish. It is possible that one of my brother or sister will be able to take over the Bulletin Paul, but nothing is for sure.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Giving colleagues subtitles
In 1995, I was working full time for the Corporation. I was alone in an office with no window. Near the door of our offices, we had an office tag displaying our names and the number of the office.
One morning, I realized when I arrive to work, that my office tag has been modified: my name and the office number were still there, but just below my name, there was a funny subtitle: Adameister.
Modifying an office tag was easy, as it was printed on transparent support with a standard laser printer.
I guessed immediately who had done that: an American senior engineer named Alan. I confronted him, but he denied it, smiling. So, I told him that if he knows who did it, he should tell him or her that the font was not correct. The next day, my office tag was updated with the correct font.
Then Alan and myself, we started to give subtitles to other engineers. We never put anything pejorative, and most people kept their modified office tags.
I tried to always put something related to the person or their name and something related to their job. Here is an example. In an office, there were two engineers that were working on data modelling: Billy Hui and Vicky Fan. I named them respectively: "The Modelling Kid" and "The Data Ventilator".
Having a subtitle became very popular. I even asked the boss if it was OK to give him a subtitle, and he agreed. He was the head of what was called the Software Factory" and his first name was Arthur. So, I named him "The King of the Factory".
One morning, I realized when I arrive to work, that my office tag has been modified: my name and the office number were still there, but just below my name, there was a funny subtitle: Adameister.
Modifying an office tag was easy, as it was printed on transparent support with a standard laser printer.
I guessed immediately who had done that: an American senior engineer named Alan. I confronted him, but he denied it, smiling. So, I told him that if he knows who did it, he should tell him or her that the font was not correct. The next day, my office tag was updated with the correct font.
Then Alan and myself, we started to give subtitles to other engineers. We never put anything pejorative, and most people kept their modified office tags.
I tried to always put something related to the person or their name and something related to their job. Here is an example. In an office, there were two engineers that were working on data modelling: Billy Hui and Vicky Fan. I named them respectively: "The Modelling Kid" and "The Data Ventilator".
Having a subtitle became very popular. I even asked the boss if it was OK to give him a subtitle, and he agreed. He was the head of what was called the Software Factory" and his first name was Arthur. So, I named him "The King of the Factory".
Friday, June 24, 2011
Never lie to cops: Dumping stuff illegally
It was 1994. I was going to move in less than a week to Vancouver with my four children. I still have some stuff in my house that I wanted to get rid of.
I was lazy and scrooge, so I did not contract to have this stuff disappear. I had noticed a nearby construction site that was almost abandoned and where people were dumping stuff.
So, one night around 9 PM, I loaded my car with my stuff and went to the construction site. As soon as I arrived there, a police car showed up from left field. I stopped and wait for them.
One of the policemen asked me what I was doing there. I replied: "I was about to commit a crime" ("Je m'apprêtais à commettre un forfait"). The policeman was quite surprised by my answer. He asked me to open the back of the car.
They looked at it and noticed two big loudspeakers that I had bought several years ago. I believe the brand name was Braun. Yes, I told them, they are still working. So, they took them and put them in their car.
After checking that I was not dumping any medicament/drug or anything organic, they left after hinting that I was free to do what I wanted. So, I dumped the remaining of my stuff.
A third case when I was in the wrong, but I suffered no consequences when I told the truth to the cops.
I was lazy and scrooge, so I did not contract to have this stuff disappear. I had noticed a nearby construction site that was almost abandoned and where people were dumping stuff.
So, one night around 9 PM, I loaded my car with my stuff and went to the construction site. As soon as I arrived there, a police car showed up from left field. I stopped and wait for them.
One of the policemen asked me what I was doing there. I replied: "I was about to commit a crime" ("Je m'apprêtais à commettre un forfait"). The policeman was quite surprised by my answer. He asked me to open the back of the car.
They looked at it and noticed two big loudspeakers that I had bought several years ago. I believe the brand name was Braun. Yes, I told them, they are still working. So, they took them and put them in their car.
After checking that I was not dumping any medicament/drug or anything organic, they left after hinting that I was free to do what I wanted. So, I dumped the remaining of my stuff.
A third case when I was in the wrong, but I suffered no consequences when I told the truth to the cops.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Never lie to cops: Driving slow with no insurance
I was a young Navy Officer in Toulon and I was broke. I owned two cars and I was going to sell one. Only one of these two cars was insured.
As I was moving from a house to an apartment some ten kilometers away, I asked one of my friends to drive the insured car and I took the uninsured one.
I made sure that I was going well under the speed limit all the way, so that the police would not arrest me for speeding. Big mistake. In the south of France, going slightly over the speed limit is the usual way of driving. So, the police found my way of driving slowly highly suspect, and they stopped me.
My friend seeing that I was stopped by the police did not wait for me. I told the policemen the truth and explained that indeed I had no insurance for this car. They checked that the car was not stolen. They were almost friendly.
After they made sure that I owned the car and they got enough information about my whereabouts, they told me to continue to my destination, driving my uninsured car.
Later, the police went to check that I was indeed a graduate student at the Navy Instruction Center, and I was asked to present myself at the gate so that they could make sure that I told the truth.
As I remember, the case did not even go to court and I got no fine for my bad behavior.
This second case comforted me in my belief that you should never lie to the cops, whatever the consequences you imagine.
As I was moving from a house to an apartment some ten kilometers away, I asked one of my friends to drive the insured car and I took the uninsured one.
I made sure that I was going well under the speed limit all the way, so that the police would not arrest me for speeding. Big mistake. In the south of France, going slightly over the speed limit is the usual way of driving. So, the police found my way of driving slowly highly suspect, and they stopped me.
My friend seeing that I was stopped by the police did not wait for me. I told the policemen the truth and explained that indeed I had no insurance for this car. They checked that the car was not stolen. They were almost friendly.
After they made sure that I owned the car and they got enough information about my whereabouts, they told me to continue to my destination, driving my uninsured car.
Later, the police went to check that I was indeed a graduate student at the Navy Instruction Center, and I was asked to present myself at the gate so that they could make sure that I told the truth.
As I remember, the case did not even go to court and I got no fine for my bad behavior.
This second case comforted me in my belief that you should never lie to the cops, whatever the consequences you imagine.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Never lie to cops: speeding on the freeway
It is my firm belief that you should never lie to cops (or to immigration officers), whatever the situation. If you do it, they will usually see through your lies and it will not be to your advantage.
Furthermore, if you tell the truth, the police officer will usually take this into consideration and you may end up with only a warning. Here is a first example.
In September 1974, I was driving from Paris to Toulon on the freeway. I had a fast car at the time, a Renault 12 Gordini, that could reach a speed of 180 km/h (around 110 miles per hour).
At some point, I was passed by a Porsche at 170 km/h. I was bored by a long drive, so I decided to have some fun and to follow this car for some time.
I new that the "gendarmes" were patrolling the freeway in fast anonymous cars, so I watched all the cars we were passing to try to detect a gendarmes'car.
After following the Porsche for some 10 km, I noticed in my rear view mirror a car that was gaining on us and that was flashing its head lights, presumably to pass other cars faster. So, I slowed down to the speed limit and two minutes later I was passed by a black Peugeot 504 break at 200 km/h. This was a gendarmes'car, with an Maserati engine. They did not make me stop then, they were pursuing the Porsche.
Fifteen kilometers later, they had stopped the Porsche and they signaled me to stop. I deliberately stopped more that 100 meters from the Porsche. A gendarme came to me and asked me what was my speed. I admitted to the truth that I was going at around 170 km/h.
He asked me for my papers. So, I first showed him my military ID card. He told me that this was not what he asked for, and I showed him my license, registration and insurance.
Then, he told me to not do it again, otherwise "next time, no gift" ("la prochaine fois, pas de cadeau") and he let me go without a ticket.
I believe there are two reasons why I was not penalized: first I admitted to the truth and second I was a military officer. The gendarmes are also part of the military, so showing my military ID card was a gamble, because the gendarme might have been upset that I was trying to take advantage of my occupation, but in this case it paid off.
Furthermore, if you tell the truth, the police officer will usually take this into consideration and you may end up with only a warning. Here is a first example.
In September 1974, I was driving from Paris to Toulon on the freeway. I had a fast car at the time, a Renault 12 Gordini, that could reach a speed of 180 km/h (around 110 miles per hour).
At some point, I was passed by a Porsche at 170 km/h. I was bored by a long drive, so I decided to have some fun and to follow this car for some time.
I new that the "gendarmes" were patrolling the freeway in fast anonymous cars, so I watched all the cars we were passing to try to detect a gendarmes'car.
After following the Porsche for some 10 km, I noticed in my rear view mirror a car that was gaining on us and that was flashing its head lights, presumably to pass other cars faster. So, I slowed down to the speed limit and two minutes later I was passed by a black Peugeot 504 break at 200 km/h. This was a gendarmes'car, with an Maserati engine. They did not make me stop then, they were pursuing the Porsche.
Fifteen kilometers later, they had stopped the Porsche and they signaled me to stop. I deliberately stopped more that 100 meters from the Porsche. A gendarme came to me and asked me what was my speed. I admitted to the truth that I was going at around 170 km/h.
He asked me for my papers. So, I first showed him my military ID card. He told me that this was not what he asked for, and I showed him my license, registration and insurance.
Then, he told me to not do it again, otherwise "next time, no gift" ("la prochaine fois, pas de cadeau") and he let me go without a ticket.
I believe there are two reasons why I was not penalized: first I admitted to the truth and second I was a military officer. The gendarmes are also part of the military, so showing my military ID card was a gamble, because the gendarme might have been upset that I was trying to take advantage of my occupation, but in this case it paid off.
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