Subject Access Request – Dan Q, pupil Sep 1992 – Jun 1997
Date:
Tue, 23 Jul 2024 15:18:07 +0100
To Whom It May Concern,
Please supply the personal data you hold about me, per data protection law. Specifically, I’m looking for: a list of all offences for which I was assigned detention at
school.
Please find attached a variety of documentation which I feel proves my identity and the legitimacy of this request. If there’s anything else you need or you have further questions,
please feel free to email me.
Thanks in advance;
Dan Q
To:
“Dan Q” <***@danq.me>
From:
“Jodie Clayton” <*.*******@fulwoodacademy.co.uk>
Subject:
Re: Subject Access Request – Dan Q, pupil Sep 1992 – Jun 1997
Date:
Fri, 26 Jul 2024 10:48:33 +0100
Dear Dan Q,
We do not retain records of detentions of former pupils, and we certainly have no academic records of pupils going back thirty years ago.
Jodie Clayton | Office Manager with Cover and Admissions
Black Bull Lane, Fulwood, Preston, PR2 9YR
+44 (0) 1772 719060
To:
“Jodie Clayton” <*********@fulwoodacademy.co.uk>
From:
“Dan Q” <***@danq.me>
Subject:
Re: Subject Access Request – Dan Q, pupil Sep 1992 – Jun 1997
Date:
Fri, 26 Jul 2024 17:00:49 +0100
But, but… I was always told that this would go on my permanent record. Are you telling me that teachers lied to me? What else is fake!?
Maybe I will always have a calculator with me and I won’t actually need to know how to derive a square root using a pen and paper. Maybe nobody will ever care what
my GCSE results are for every job I apply for. Maybe my tongue isn’t divided into different
taste areas capable of picking out sweet, salty, bitter etc. flavours. Maybe practicing my handwriting won’t be an essential skill I use every day.
And maybe I will amount to something despite never turning in any History homework, Mr. Needham!
Terence Eden, who’s apparently inspiring several posts this week, recently shared a way to attach a hook to WordPress’s
get_the_post_thumbnail() function in order to remove the extraneous “closing mark” from the (self-closing in HTML) <img> element.
By default, WordPress outputs e.g. <img src="..." />, where <img src="..."> would suffice.
It’s an inconsequential difference for most purposes, but apparently it bugs him, so he fixed it… although he went on to observe that he hadn’t managed to successfully tackle
all the instances in which WordPress was outputting redundant closing marks.
This is a problem that I’ve already solved here on my blog. My solution’s slightly hacky… but it works!
There are many things you could say about the HTML produced to make the page you’re reading now. But “it needs fewer />s” isn’t among them.
My Solution: Runing HTMLTidy over WordPress
Tidy is an excellent tool for tiding up HTML! I used to use its predecessor back in
the day for all kind of things, but it languished for a few years and struggled with support for modern HTML features. But
in 2015 it made a comeback and it’s gone from strength to strength ever since.
I run it on virtually all pages produced by DanQ.me (go on, click “View Source” and see for yourself!), to:
Standardise the style of the HTML code and make it easier for humans to read1.
Bring old-style emphasis tags like <i>, in my older posts, into a more-modern interpretation, like <em>.
Hoist any inline <style> blocks to the <head>, and detect any repeated inline style="..."s to convert to classes.
Repair any invalid HTML (browsers do this for you, of course, but doing it server-side makes parsing easier for the
browser, which might matter on more-lightweight hardware).
WordPress isn’t really designed to have Tidy bolted onto it, so anything it likely to be a bit of a hack, but here’s my approach:
Install libtidy-dev and build the PHP bindings to it.
Note that if you don’t do this the code might appear to work, but it won’t actually tidy anything2.
Add a new output buffer to my theme’s header.php3, with a callback function: ob_start('tidy_entire_page').
Without an corresponding ob_flush or similar, this buffer will close and the function will be called when PHP
finishes generating the page.
Define the function tidy_entire_page($buffer) Have it instantiate Tidy ($tidy = new tidy) and use $tidy->parseString (with your buffer and Tidy preferences) to tidy the code, then
return $tidy.
Ensure that you’re caching the results!
You don’t want to run this every page load for anonymous users! WP Super Cache on “Expert” mode (with the
requisite webserver configuration) might help.
1 I miss the days when most websites were handwritten and View Source typically looked
nice. It was great to learn from, too, especially in an age before we had DOM debuggers. Today: I can’t justify
dropping my use of a CMS, but I can make my code readable.
2 For a few of its extensions, some PHP developer made the interesting choice to fail silently if the required extension is missing. For example: if you don’t have the
zip extension enabled you can still usePHPto make ZIP files, but they won’t be
compressed. This can cause a great deal of confusion for developers! A similar issue exists with tidy: if it isn’t installed, you can still call all of the
methods on it… they just don’t do anything. I can see why this decision might have been made – to make the language as portable as possible in production – but I’d
prefer if this were an optional feature, e.g. you had to set try_to_make_do_if_you_are_missing_an_extension=yes in your php.ini to enable it, or if
it at least logged that it had done so.
3 My approach probably isn’t suitable for FSE (“block”) themes, sorry.
There are two particular varieties of email address that I don’t often see, but I’ve been known to ridicule when I have:
Geographically-based personal email addresses, e.g. OurHouseName@example.com. These always seemed to me to undermine one of the
single-best things about an email address compared to postal mail – that they don’t change when you move house!1
Shared/couple email addresses, e.g. MrAndMrsSmith@example.net. These make me want to scream “You know email addresses are basically
free, right? You don’t have to share one!” Even back when most people got their email address directly from their dial-up provider, most ISPs offered some number of addresses (e.g. five).
If you’ve come across either of the above before, there’s… perhaps a reasonable chance that it was in the possession of somebody born before 1960 (and the older, the
more-likely)2.
In Pierce’s defence, “my email is on that computer” did genuinely used to be a thing, before the widespread adoption of IMAP and webmail.
You’ll never catch me doing that!
I found myself thinking about this as I clicked the “No” button on a poll by Terence
Eden that asked whether I used a “shared” email address when in a stable long-term relationship.
Of course I don’t! Why would I? Oh… wait…
It wasn’t until after I clicked “No” that I realised that, in actual fact, I have had multiple email addresses that I’ve share with significant other(s). And more than
that, sometimes they’ve been geographically-based! What’s going on?
I’ve routinely had domains or subdomains that I’ve used to represent a place that I live. They’re convenient for when you want to give somebody a short web address which’ll take them to
a page with directions to you and links to your location in a variety of different services and formats.
And by that point, you might as well have an email alias, e.g. all@myhouse.example.org, that forwards on email to, well, all the adults at the house. What I’ve
described there is, after a fashion, a shared email address tied to a geographical location. But we don’t ever send anything from it. Nor do we use it for any kind of
personal communication with anybody outside the house.
Sainsbury’s aren’t going to bring us any Raspberry Peelers. I’m not sure who ordered them, but I’m confident that
it’s the kids who’re gonna complain about it.
We don’t give out these all@ addresses (or their aliases: every company gets their own) to people willy-nilly. But they’re useful for shared services that send
automated emails to us all. For example:
Giving a forwarding alias to the supermarket means that receipts (listing any unavailable products) g0 to all of us, and whoever’s meal plan’s been scuppered by an awkward
substitution will know what’s up.
Using a forwarding alias with the household Netflix account means anybody can use the “send me a sign-in link” feature to connect a new device.
When confirming that you’ve sent money to a service provider, CC’ing one of these nice, short aliases provides a quick way to let the others know that a bill’s been paid (this one’s
especially useful where, like me, you live in a 3+ adult household and otherwise you’d be having to add multiple people to the CC field).
Sure, the need for most of these solutions would evaporate instantly if more services supported multi-user or delegated access3.
But outside of that fantasy world, shared aliases seem to be pretty useful!
Footnotes
1 The most ill-conceived example of geographically-based email addresses I’ve ever seen
came from a a 2003 proposal by then-MP Derek Wyatt, who proposed that the domain name part of every single email address should contain not
only the country of the owner (e.g. .uk) but also their complete postcode. He was under the delusion that this would somehow prevent spam. Even ignoring the
immense technical challenges of his proposal and the impossibility of policing it across the borders of every country that uses email… it probably wouldn’t even be
effective at his stated goal. I’ll let The Register take it from here.
2 No ageism intended: I suspect that the phenomenon actually stems from the fact that as
email took off in the noughties this demographic who were significantly more-likely than younger folks to have (a) a very long-term home that they didn’t anticipate moving out of any
time soon, and (b) an existing anticipation that people and companies wrote to them as a couple, not individually.
3 I’d love it if the grocery delivery sites would let multiple “accounts”, by
mutual consent, share a delivery slot, destination, and payment method. It’d be cool to know that we could e.g. have a houseguest and give them temporary access to a specific
order that was scheduled for during their stay. But that’s probably a lot of work for very little payoff if you’re busy running a supermarket.
In anticipation of WWW Day on 1 August, some work colleagues and I were
sharing pictures of the first (or early) websites we worked on. I was pleased to be able to pull out a screenshot of how my blog looked back in 1999!
Tables for layout, hit counter, web-safe colour scheme, and the need to explain what a “navigation bar” is in case they’ve not come across one before. Yup, this is 90s web design at
its peak and no mistake.
Because I’m such a digital preservationist, many of those ancient posts are still available on my blog, so I also shared a photo of me browsing the same content on my
blog as it is today, side-by-side with that 25+-year-old screenshot.1
The posts are in reverse-chronological order now, rather than chronological order, but the content’s all the same (even though the design is now very different and, of course,
responsive!).
I’ve even applied img { image-rendering: crisp-edges; } to try to compensate for modern browsers’ capability for subpixel rendering when rescaling images: let them
eat pixels!5
Or if you can’t be bothered to switch to 1999 Mode, you can just look at this screenshot to get an idea of how it looks.
I’ve added 1999 Mode to my April Fools gags so, like this year, if you happen to visit my site on or around 1 April,
there’s a change you’ll see it in 1999 mode anyway. What fun!
I think there’s a possible future blog post about Web design challenges of the 1990s. Things like: what it the user agent doesn’t support images? What if it supports GIFs, but not
animated ones (some browsers would just show the first frame, so you’d want to choose your first frame appropriately)? How do I ensure that people see the right content if they skip my
frameset? Which browser-specific features can I safely use, and where do I need a fallback6? Will this
work well on all resolutions down to 640×480 (minus browser chrome)? And so on.
Any interest in that particular rabbit hole of digital history?
Footnotes
1 Some of the addresses have changed, but from Summer 2003 onwards I’ve had a solid chain
of redirects in place to try to keep content available via whatever address it was at. Because Cool URIs Don’t Change. This occasionally turns out to be useful!
2 Actually, the entire theme is just a CSS change, so no tables are added. But I’ve tried to make it look like I’m using tables for layout, because that (and spacer GIFs) were all
we had back in the day.
3 Obviously the title saying “Dan Q” is modern, because that
wasn’t even my name back then, but this is more a reimagining of how my site would have looked if I were transported back to 1999 and made to do it all again.
4 I was slightly obsessed for a couple of years in the late 90s with flaming text on black
marble backgrounds. The hit counter in my screenshot above – with numbers on fire – was one I made, not a third-party one; and because mine was the only one of my friends’
hosts that would let me run CGIs, my Perl script powered the hit counters for most of my friends’ sites too.
5 I considered, but couldn’t be bothered, implementing an SVG CSS filter: to posterize my images down to 8-bit colour, for that real
“I’m on an old graphics card” feel! If anybody’s already implemented such a thing under a license that I can use, let me know and I’ll integrate it!
This is what the endgame should be IMO. Some things are better represented as text. Some are best understood visually. We should mix and match what works best on a case-by-case
basis. Don’t try to visualize simple code. Don’t try to write code where a diagram is better.
One of the attempts was Luna. They tried dual representation: everything is code and diagram at the same time, and you can switch between the two:
But this way, you are not only getting benefits of both ways, you are also constrained by both text and visual media at the same time. You can’t do stuff that’s hard to
visualize (loops, recursions, abstractions) AND you can’t do stuff that’s hard to code.
…
Interesting thoughts from Niki (and from Sebastian Bensusan) on how diagrams and code might someday be
intertwined as first class citizens (but not in the gross ways you might have come across in the past when people have tried to sell you on “visual programming”).
As Niki wrote about what he calls levels 2 and 3 of the concept – in which diagrams and code are intrinsically linked I found myself thinking about Twine, a programming language (or framework? or tool?… not sure how best to describe or define it!) intended for making interactive “choose your own
adventure”-style hypertext fiction.
Twine’s sort-of a level 2 implementation of visual programming: the code (scene descriptions) is mostly what’s responsible for feeding the diagram. But that’s not entirely
true: it’s possible to create new nodes in your story graph in a completely visual way, and then dip into them to edit their contents and imply how they link to others.
It’s possible that the IF engine community – who are working to lower the barriers to programming in order to improve accessibility
to people who are fiction authors first, developers second – are ahead of the curve in the area of visual programming. Consider for example how Inform’s automated test framework graphs
the permutations you (or your human testers) try, and allow you to “bless” (turn into assertions) the results so that regression testing becomes visually automated affair:
If you’ve been a programmer or programming-adjacent nerd1
for a while, you’ll have doubtless come across an ASCII table.
An ASCII table is useful. But did you know it’s also beautiful and elegant.
Even non-programmer-adjacent nerds may have a cultural awareness of ASCII thanks to books and
films like The Martian2.
ASCII‘s still very-much around; even if you’re transmitting modern Unicode3 the
most-popular encoding format UTF-8 is specifically-designed to be backwards-compatible with ASCII! If
you decoded this page as ASCII you’d get the gist of it… so long as you ignored the garbage
characters at the end of this sentence! 😁
History
ASCII was initially standardised in X3.4-1963 (which just rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it?) which assigned meanings to 100 of the
potential 128 codepoints presented by a 7-bit4
binary representation: that is, binary values 0000000 through 1111111:
Notably absent characters in this first implementation include… the entire lowercase alphabet! There’s also a few quirks that modern ASCII fans might spot, like the curious “up” and “left” arrows at the bottom of column 101____ and the ACK and ESC control
codes in column 111____.
If you’ve already guessed where I’m going with this, you might be interested to look at the X3.4-1963 table and see that yes, many of the same elegant design choices I’ll be talking
about later already existed back in 1963. That’s really cool!
Table
In case you’re not yet intimately familiar with it, let’s take a look at an ASCII table. I’ve
colour-coded some of the bits I think are most-beautiful:
That table only shows decimal and hexadecimal values for each
character, but we’re going to need some binary too, to really appreciate some of the things that make ASCII sublime and clever.
Control codes
The first 32 “characters” (and, arguably, the final one) aren’t things that you can see, but commands sent between machines to provide additional instructions. You might be
familiar with carriage return (0D) and line feed (0A) which mean “go back to the beginning of this line” and “advance to the next line”,
respectively5.
Many of the others don’t see widespread use any more – they were designed for very different kinds of computer systems than we routinely use today – but they’re all still there.
32 is a power of two, which means that you’d rightly expect these control codes to mathematically share a particular “pattern” in their binary representation with one another, distinct
from the rest of the table. And they do! All of the control codes follow the pattern 00_____: that is, they begin with two zeroes. So when you’re reading
7-bit ASCII6, if it starts with
00, it’s a non-printing character. Otherwise it’s a printing character.
Not only does this pattern make it easy for humans to read (and, with it, makes the code less-arbitrary and more-beautiful); it also helps if you’re an ancient slow computer system
comparing one bit of information at a time. In this case, you can use a decision tree to make shortcuts.
That there’s one exception in the control codes: DEL is the last character in the table, represented by the binary number 1111111. This
is a historical throwback to paper tape, where the keyboard would punch some permutation of seven holes to represent the ones and zeros of each character. You can’t delete
holes once they’ve been punched, so the only way to mark a character as invalid was to rewind the tape and punch out all the holes in that position: i.e. all
1s.
Space
The first printing character is space; it’s an invisible character, but it’s still one that has meaning to humans, so it’s not a control character (this sounds obvious today,
but it was actually the source of some semantic argument when the ASCII standard was first being
discussed).
Putting it numerically before any other printing character was a very carefully-considered and deliberate choice. The reason: sorting. For a computer to sort a list
(of files, strings, or whatever) it’s easiest if it can do so numerically, using the same character conversion table as it uses for all other purposes7.
The space character must naturally come before other characters, or else John Smith won’t appear before Johnny Five in a computer-sorted list as you’d expect him to.
Being the first printing character, space also enjoys a beautiful and memorable binary representation that a human can easily recognise: 0100000.
Numbers
The position of the Arabic numbers 0-9 is no coincidence, either. Their position means that they start with zero at the nice round binary value 0110000
(and similarly round hex value 30) and continue sequentially, giving:
Binary
Hex
Decimal digit (character)
011 0000
30
0
011 0001
31
1
011 0010
32
2
011 0011
33
3
011 0100
34
4
011 0101
35
5
011 0110
36
6
011 0111
37
7
011 1000
38
8
011 1001
39
9
The last four digits of the binary are a representation of the value of the decimal digit depicted. And the last digit of the hexadecimal representation
is the decimal digit. That’s just brilliant!
If you’re using this post as a way to teach yourself to “read” binary-formatted ASCII in your head,
the rule to take away here is: if it begins 011, treat the remainder as a binary representation of an actual number. You’ll probably be
right: if the number you get is above 9, it’s probably some kind of punctuation instead.
Shifted Numbers
Subtract 0010000 from each of the numbers and you get the shifted numbers. The first one’s occupied by the space character already, which is a
shame, but for the rest of them, the characters are what you get if you press the shift key and that number key at the same time.
“No it’s not!” I hear you cry. Okay, you’re probably right. I’m using a 105-key ISO/UK QWERTY keyboard and… only four of the nine digits 1-9 have their shifted variants
properly represented in ASCII.
That, I’m afraid, is because ASCII was based not on modern computer keyboards but on the shifted
positions of a Remington No. 2 mechanical typewriter – whose shifted layout was the closest compromise we could find as a standard at the time, I imagine. But hey, you got to learn
something about typewriters today, if that’s any consolation.
Bonus fun fact: early mechanical typewriters omitted a number 1: it was expected that you’d use the letter I. That’s fine for printed work, but not much help for computer-readable
data.
Letters
Like the numbers, the letters get a pattern. After the @-symbol at 1000000, the uppercase letters all begin
10, followed by the binary representation of their position in the alphabet. 1 = A = 1000001, 2 = B = 1000010, and so on up to 26 = Z =
1011010. If you can learn the numbers of the positions of the letters in the alphabet, and you can count
in binary, you now know enough to be able to read any ASCII uppercase letter that’s been encoded as
binary8.
And once you know the uppercase letters, the lowercase ones are easy too. Their position in the table means that they’re all exactly 0100000higher than the uppercase variants; i.e. all the lowercase letters begin 11! 1 = a = 1100001, 2 = b = 1100010, and 26 = z =
1111010.
If you’re wondering why the uppercase letters come first, the answer again is sorting: also the fact that the first implementation of ASCII, which we saw above, was put together before it was certain that computer systems would need separate
character codes for upper and lowercase letters (you could conceive of an alternative implementation that instead sent control codes to instruct the recipient to switch case, for
example). Given the ways in which the technology is now used, I’m glad they eventually made the decision they did.
Beauty
There’s a strange and subtle charm to ASCII. Given that we all use it (or things derived from it)
literally all the time in our modern lives and our everyday devices, it’s easy to think of it as just some arbitrary encoding.
But the choices made in deciding what streams of ones and zeroes would represent which characters expose a refined logic. It’s aesthetically pleasing, and littered with
historical artefacts that teach us a hidden history of computing. And it’s built atop patterns that are sufficiently sophisticated to facilitate powerful processing while being coherent
enough for a human to memorise, learn, and understand.
Footnotes
1 Programming-adjacent? Yeah. For example, geocachers who’ve ever had to decode a
puzzle-geocache where the coordinates were presented in binary (by which I mean: a binary representation of ASCII) are “programming-adjacent nerds” for the purposes of this discussion.
2 In both the book and the film, Mark Watney divides a circle around the recovered
Pathfinder lander into segments corresponding to hexadecimal digits 0 through F to allow the rotation of its camera (by operators on Earth) to transmit pairs of 4-bit words.
Two 4-bit words makes an 8-bit byte that he can decode as ASCII, thereby effecting a means to
re-establish communication with Earth.
3 Y’know, so that you can type all those emoji you love so much.
4 ASCII is often thought of as an 8-bit code, but it’s not: it’s 7-bit. That’s why virtually every ASCII message you see starts every octet with a zero. 8-bits is a convenient number for transmission purposes (thanks
mostly to being a power of two), but early 8-bit systems would be far more-likely to use the 8th bit as a parity check, to help
detect transmission errors. Of course, there’s also nothing to say you can’t just transmit a stream of 7-bit characters back to back!
5 Back when data was sent to teletype printers these two characters had a distinct
different meaning, and sometimes they were so slow at returning their heads to the left-hand-side of the paper that you’d also need to send a few null bytes e.g. 0D 0A
00 00 00 00 to make sure that the print head had gotten settled into the right place before you sent more data: printers didn’t have memory buffers at this point! For
compatibility with teletypes, early minicomputers followed the same carriage return plus line feed convention, even when outputting text to screens. Then to maintain backwards
compatibility with those systems, the next generation of computers would also use both a carriage return and a line feed character to mean “next line”. And so,
in the modern day, many computer systems (including Windows most of the time, and many Internet protocols) still continue to use the combination of a carriage return
and a line feed character every time they want to say “next line”; a redundancy build for a chain of backwards-compatibility that ceased to be relevant decades ago but which
remains with us forever as part of our digital heritage.
6 Got 8 binary digits in front of you? The first digit is probably zero. Drop it. Now
you’ve got 7-bit ASCII. Sorted.
7 I’m hugely grateful to section 13.8 of Coded Character Sets, History and
Development by Charles E. Mackenzie (1980), the entire text of which is available freely
online, for helping me to understand the importance of the position of the space character within the ASCII character set. While most of what I’ve written in this blog post were things I already knew, I’d never fully grasped
its significance of the space character’s location until today!
8 I’m sure you know this already, but in case you’re one of today’s lucky 10,000 to discover that the reason we call the majuscule and minuscule letters “uppercase” and “lowercase”, respectively, dates to 19th
century printing, when moveable type would be stored in a box (a “type case”) corresponding to its character type. The “upper” case was where the capital letters would typically be
stored.
I was browsing (BBC) Good Food today when I noticed something I’d not seen before: a “premium” recipe, available on their “app only”:
I clicked on the “premium” recipe and… it
looked just like any other recipe. I guess it’s not actually restricted after all?
Just out of curiosity, I fired up a more-vanilla web browser and tried to visit the same page. Now I saw an overlay and modal attempting1 to
restrict access to the content:
It turns out their entire effort to restrict access to their premium content… is implemented in client-side JavaScript. Even when I did see the overlay and not get access to
the recipe, all I needed to do was open my browser’s debugger and run document.body.classList.remove('tp-modal-open'); for(el of document.querySelectorAll('.tp-modal,
.tp-backdrop')) el.remove(); and all the restrictions were lifted.
What a complete joke.
Why didn’t I even have to write my JavaScript two-liner to get past the restriction in my primary browser? Because I’m running privacy-protector Ghostery, and one of the services Ghostery blocks by-default is one called Piano. Good Food uses Piano to segment their audience in your
browser, but they haven’t backed that by any, y’know, actual security so all of their content, “premium” or not, is available to anybody.
I’m guessing that Immediate Media (who bought the BBC Good Food brand a while back and have only just gotten around to stripping “BBC” out of
the name) have decided that an ad-supported model isn’t working and have decided to monetise the site a little differently2.
Unfortunately, their attempt to differentiate premium from regular content was sufficiently half-hearted that I barely noticed that, too, gliding through the paywall without
even noticing were it not for the fact that I wondered why there was a “premium” badge on some of their recipes.
You know what website I miss? OpenSourceFood.com. It went downhill and then died around 2016, but for a while it was excellent.
Recipes probably aren’t considered a high-value target, of course. But I can tell you from experience that sometimes companies make basically this same mistake with much
more-sensitive systems. The other year, for example, I discovered (and ethically disclosed) a fault in the implementation of the login forms of a major UK mobile network that meant that
two-factor authentication could be bypassed entirely from the client-side.
These kinds of security mistakes are increasingly common on the Web as we train developers to think about the front-end first (and sometimes, exclusively). We need to do
better.
Footnotes
1 The fact that I could literally see the original content behind the modal
was a bit of a giveaway that they’d only hidden it, not actually protected it in any way.
2 I can see why they’d think that: personally, I didn’t even know there were ads
on the site until I did the experiment above: turns out I was already blocking them, too, along with any anti-ad-blocking scripts that might have been running alongside.
If I could offer you only one tip for the future, coding would be it. The long term benefits of coding websites remains unproved by scientists, however the rest of my advice has a
basis in the joy of the indie web community’s experiences. I will dispense this advice now:
Enjoy the power and beauty of PHP; or never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of PHP until your stack is completely jammed. But trust me, in 20 years you’ll look
back at your old sites and recall in a way you can’t grasp now, how much possibility lay before you and how simple and fast they were. JS is not as blazingly fast as you imagine.
Don’t worry about the scaling; or worry, but know that premature scalability is as useful as chewing bubble gum if your project starts cosy and small. The real troubles on the web
are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; if your project grows, scale it up on some idle Tuesday.
I can’t say I loved Baz Luhrmann’s Everybody’s Free To Wear Sunscreen. I’m not sure it’s possible for anybody who lived through it being played to death in the late
1990s; a period of history when a popular song was basically inescapable. Also, it got parodied a lot. I must’ve seen a couple of dozen different parodies of varying quality in
the early 2000s.
But it’s been long enough that I was, I guess, ready for one. And I couldn’t conceive of a better topic.
Y’see: the very message of the value of personal websites is, like Sunscreen, a nostalgic one. When I try to sell
people on the benefits of a personal digital garden or blog, I tend to begin by pointing out that the best time to set up your own website is… like 20+ years ago.
But… the second-best time to start a personal website is right now. With cheap and free static
hosting all over the place (and more-dynamic options not much-more expensive) and domain names still as variably-priced as they ever were, the biggest impediment is the learning
curve… which is also the fun part! Siloed social media is either eating its own tail or else fighting to adapt to once again be part of a more-open Web, and there’s nothing that says
“I’m part of the open Web” like owning your own online identity, carving out your own space, and expressing yourself there however you damn well like.
As always, this is a drum I’ll probably beat until I die, so feel free to get in touch if you want some help getting set up on the Web.
Vmail is cool. It’s vole.wtf’s (of ARCC etc. fame) community
newsletter, and it’s as batshit crazy as you’d expect if you were to get the kinds of people who enjoy that site and asked them all to chip in on a newsletter.
Totes bonkers.
But email’s not how I like to consume this kind of media. So obviously, I scraped it.
I’m not a monster: I want Vmail’s stats to be accurate. So I signed up with an unmonitored OpenTrashMail account as well. I just don’t read it (except for the confirmation link
email). It actually took me a few attempts because there seems to be some kind of arbitrary maximum length validation on the signup form. But I got there in the end.
Recipe
Want to subscribe to Vmail using your own copy of FreshRSS? Here’s the settings you’re looking for –
Type of feed source:HTML + XPath (Web scraping)
XPath for finding news items://table/tbody/tr
It’s just a table with each row being a newsletter; simple!
XPath for item title:descendant::a
XPath for item content:.
XPath for item link (URL):descendant::a/@href
XPath for item date:descendant::td[1]
Custom date/time format:d M *y
The dates are in a format that’s like 01 May ’24 – two-digit days with leading zeros, three-letter months, and a two-digit year preceded by a curly quote, separated by spaces. That
curl quote screws up PHP’s date parser, so we have to give it a hint.
XPath for unique item ID:descendant::th
Optional, but each issue’s got its own unique ID already anyway; we might as well use it!
Article CSS selector on original website:#vmail
Optional, but recommended: this option lets you read the entire content of each newsletter without leaving FreshRSS.
So yeah, FreshRSS continues to be amazing. And lately it’s helped me keep on top of the amazing/crazy of vole.wtf too.
There are a whole bunch of things that could be the source for the name, e.g. where we found most of their work (The Dipylon Master) or the potter with whom they worked (the
Amasis Painter), a favourite theme (The Athena Painter), the Museum that ended up with the most famous thing they did (The Berlin Painter) or a notable aspect of their style.
Like, say, The Eyebrow Painter.
Guess what kind of pottery the Eyebrow Painter made?
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