Original Content

  [11]1 Name: Anonymous : 2008-02-12 17:56

     The Sussman sat on his wizard throne, still donning his standard 
wizard
     hat and

     robe, which was still dripping from the shower in which he put 
them on.
     As he

     stroked his neck-beard he pondered the things which the Satori 
ponder.
     Beneath

     his feet lay the broken fragments of the python, the foul demon 
summoned
     by the

     Sussman's nemesis and anticudder Abelson, then slain by the 
worthy and
     brave

     Haskell nomads.

     The nomads were not there on this dark day, however. There had 
been a
     rumors of

     Guido in the forests of the north, who was suspected to be 
developing a
     new,

     even more woesome and fail snake to do battle with the almighty 
Satori.
     They had

     pursued the Guido over 9000 times in the past, only to turn up 
nothing
     in each

     adventure. That fucking Guido was sneaky like a fucking snake.

     The Sussman stoked his wizard beard as he hummed the tune to 
SICP...
     today would

     be a well-balanced parenthesis.

  [12]2 Name: WORDWRAP MOTHERFUCKERS : 2008-02-12 17:56

     Cons turned to Cudder, "Report?" Cudder was dressed in the 
standard garb
     of the Haskell nomads - relatively light armor gilded with the 
holy
     symbols of Haskell. The Nomads didn't need much armor - they 
traveled
     fast and they traveled hard, almost as hard as the Sussman rides 
your
     sister's ass every night when you're alone in your room whacking 
off to
     the sacred tomes. And they were armed to the teeth. They 
provided a
     deterministic and constant effect to the battle, such that their 
arrival
     could almost be curried to optimize the battle's execution speed 
and
     bring it to a quick close.

     "Nothing sir, the eastern quadrant appears to be empty. Not a 
thing
     could be found."

     Cons, without even having to ponder this responded, "Excellent. 
check the
     other three quadrants; if anything is found recursively 
subdivide and
     search until we've harrowed the location down to a single square 
inch."

     "Yessir!"

     Discipline was tight in the Haskell nomads. If a given 
expression did
     not behave deterministically he had to be wrapped up in the 
shroud of
     the monad and returned to the homelands after a ritualistic 
suicide -
     they couldn't afford to have monads in their tight-knit battle 
group. It
     just wasn't acceptable.

     They had had to perform a ceremony just the previous week. One 
of their
     dear comrades, Reed, had begun to perform differently from 
usual. A
     cursory inspection revealed that he had was indeed infected with 
the
     deadly diseased and dispatched accordingly. Cons stoked his 
neck-beard.
     Reed was gone, celebrating the afterlife with the Lambda of 
Plenty.

     His thoughts were interrupted suddenly by a bang!

     "THE CAMLS!", someone shouted.

     "Damn," Cons thought, "those fucking Camls and their fucking 
imperative
     features polluting the noble concept of functionality." The Caml 
may
     have once been a noble race, but no one remembered such a time. 
Their
     syntatical swords were riddled with a chaotic mix of operators, a
     cacophony with few peers.

     Cons drew his two beautifully forged parentheses from their 
sheathes,
     the air filling with a glorious ring. Normally a weapon not 
wielded by
     the nomads, he had been gifted the pair b the Sussman himself and
     learned to use them well.

     An OCaml warrior suddenly jumped out and threw a malformed 
interrobang in
     an attempt to corrupt Con's deterministic purity by destructively
     assigning his state with referential transparency (a black magic
     considered one of the darker evils from the depths of hell). 
Cons took
     up his parenthesis and swiped at the Caml with a quickly-crafted 
lambda
     function, but the Caml inferred the type of attack and was 
successfully
     able to evade any side effects. He didn't notice, however, that 
Cons'
     intention was not to slay him with the lambda but rather to 
incorporate
     the lambda into a foldl incantation to collapse the OCaml's 
state into a
     single return value. The OCaml let out a scream as the 
tail-recursive
     function produced a single value from his state without any
     side-effects: -3.

     Quite a weak OCaml, Cons thought to himself. He glanced around 
at his
     comrades; for the most part they handled themselves well. The 
attack,
     though sudden was fairly small, most of the remaining OCamls not 
dead
     were either dying or attempting to exit the current execution 
context.
     His suborginates hadn't taken much damage though, one had been 
expanded
     into an array and then operated on in-place. Cons shook his 
head; it was
     a terrible torturous way to die, but honorable nonetheless.

  [13]3 Name: Anonymous : 2008-02-12 17:57

     Back at MIT, the Sussman was eating a tuna fish sandwich, 
something
     reserved for the aristocracy. The catchphrase on the can read, 
"You
     cannot tune a filesystem, but you can eat a tunafish sandwich!" 
It
     wasn't very well-received, of course, but it was well-enough 
known at
     this point to remain.j

     The Sussman munched on the delicious, moist tuna thoughtfully 
when all
     of a sudden he sensed behind hi a list comprehension. THE 
ABELSON! The
     Sussman leaped out of his seat, his wizard hat almost flying off 
his
     head (it was kept on by a quick (def (f x y) (f y x))).

     And just in time - the Abelson's blow, intended to truncate the
     Sussman's tuna-filled spleen his the wooden wizard chair, which
     shattered into a thousand pieces.

     "Well, well Sussman, I see you've maintained some of your skills 
from
     6.001. You may have dodged that expression, but how long do you 
think
     you can hold out against my Python3000?"

     "THREE THOUSAND?!" the Sussman shouted in response, cackling. 
"You never
     understood, Hal; you couldn't defeat me with PythonOver9000."

     "What are you talking about Gerry. I've seen your powe--" he 
stopped,
     mouth agape as the sudden realization dawned over him. "NO, IT 
CANNOT
     BE!"

     "YES. YOUR SUSPICIONS ARE CORRECT, HAL. I'VE BEEN SUPPRESSING MY 
POWER
     LEVEL."

     "HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE??!" Hal shouted. In desperation, the 
Abelson
     hurled a fury of list comprehensions, dictionaries and 
exceptions at the
     Sussman, but Gerry easily knocked aside the feeble incantations.

     "You never understood, Hal," he chastised as he prepared his 
final
     attack, "it was always as simple as EVAL-APPLY!!!!!!!" he 
shouted as he
     unleashed the ultimate spell at the Abelson.

     The world froze.

     Few people have ever seen a spell of such power; few people 
could even
     wield it and even fewer were willing to use it. In this terrible,
     suspenseful moment, the world froze. Completely. This isn't just 
a
     literary artefact, something had segfaulted.

     Sepples took a look at the screen. "Motherfucker!" he swore. 
Somebody
     had been running a fucking Ruby interpreter, which has exhausted 
not
     only the machine's physical memory, but also used up all the 
allocated
     swap space. He'd have to reboot the system from the last save 
state and
     re-run the computation another day.

     Shit.

  [14]4 Name: Anonymous : 2008-02-12 18:08

     I request a sequel.

  [15]5 Name: Anonymous : 2008-02-12 18:13

     Bravo.

  [16]6 Name: Anonymous : 2008-02-12 18:18

     I command thee, noble Sir; this delivers a great amount of 
amusement.

  [17]7 Name: Anonymous : 2008-02-12 18:35

     What's this crap? GTFO.

  [18]8 Name: Anonymous : 2008-02-12 18:50

     I request a SQL.

  [19]9 Name: Anonymous : 2008-02-12 18:53

     shit was SO cash.

  [20]10 Name: Anonymous : 2008-02-12 18:56

     [21]>>9
     back to /b/, please

  [22]11 Name: Anonymous : 2008-02-12 18:57

     Truly, a rousing tale.

  [23]12 Name: Anonymous : 2008-02-12 20:33

     [24]>>9
     Yeah. The Sussman gave me a blow job. Shit was SO cash.

  [25]13 Name: Anonymous : 2008-02-12 20:36

     [26]>>12
     [back to /b/, please

  ][27]14 Name: Anonymous : 2008-02-12 21:17

     [28]>>13
     This may surprise, but it also may not.

  [29]15 Name: Anonymous : 2008-02-12 21:57

     Brilliant.

  [30]16 Name: Anonymous : 2008-02-12 21:58

     "This is the Unix philosophy:

         Write programs that do one thing and do it well.
         Write programs to work together.
         Write programs to handle text streams, because that is a 
universal
     interface."

     -Doug McIlroy

  [31]17 Name: Anonymous : 2008-02-12 21:58

        1. Small is beautiful.
        2. Make each program do one thing well.
        3. Build a prototype as soon as possible.
        4. Choose portability over efficiency.
        5. Store data in flat text files.
        6. Use software leverage to your advantage.
        7. Use shell scripts to increase leverage and portability.
        8. Avoid captive user interfaces.
        9. Make every program a filter.

     -Mike Gancarz

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