Lenny Domnitser’s

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This is a static archive of the domnit.org blog,
which Lenny Domnitser wrote between 2006 and 2009.


First I read this article about those cute animal with caption pictures that are all over the Web. Next day a friend shows me this seal photo. Before you know it, I’m photoshopping away in the Gimp, and now there’s this:


Photo credit Matthew Field (cc-by).

I’m sorry. This was my first time. I won’t do it again.

Some Names I’ve Been Called

  1. Lenny
  2. Leonid
  3. Lyonya
  4. Yunya
  5. Leonoid
  6. Lennid
  7. Lenoid
  8. Domnaster
  9. L-Dom
  10. Len-Master D
  11. L-Master Dom
  12. Lonstantin
  13. Len
  14. Lenny Benny
  15. Lenny Kravitz
  16. Glen
  17. Leonard
  18. Leo
  19. Leon
  20. Leon Phelps
  21. Lenin

Update, 23 April 2007: My dad sent in the following “bonus” names in Russian transliteration. I missed these presumably because I was thinking in English.

  1. Lyonchik
  2. Leonidas
  3. Lyosha
  4. Posha
  5. Pontuta
  6. Ponchita
  7. Pafnoota
  8. Poshek
  9. Lyoshek
  10. Lyoha

Virginia Tech

To answer the guy who asked me what stops someone from doing the same thing here, humans are good. Keep that in mind when bad things happen.

Linux: Not Just For Geeks

Binghamton University Linux Technology Center, Win an iPod:

The Binghamton University Linux Technology Center (BULTC) is sponsoring a renaming contest. The BULTC has expanded their projects and strategy beyond the Linux Operating System into other Open Computing areas. In turn, the BULTC is seeking a name that will represent its all-inclusive mission.

My entry:

/usr/bing. So, where do I pick up my new iPod?

The disappointing reply:

Please be more clear in your note as to what name you are proposing. As the message says we will select the winner the week of May 9th

Non–Unix-geeks: /usr/bin is where most programs are on most Linux systems.

I know how badly humor can travel over email and he was probably busy, but I think the guy running the Linux Technology Center, for better or worse, just isn’t a geek.

I still think /usr/bing is a good name for some Binghamton-tech thing.

No, that’s not a typo

This cliché should be used only when the preceding sentence contains no typo.

He spent $500 on the ticket. No, that’s not a typo. (Update: That should be $50.) He spent $50 on the ticket. No, that’s not a typo.

The spoken equivalent “You heard that right” should never be used, since the audience is made responsible for the communication.

— It was a show of lightning and thunder. You heard that right.

— What does a show of lighting and wonder have to do with our discussion of beauty in nature?

(Recently acquired)

Crushing the Dream

First of all, The Alameda-Weehawken Burrito Tunnel is hilarious, so go read it now.

Did you notice something the matter with the story’s technical merits? Spoiler warning for the physics-ignorant.

My email to Maciej Ceglowski, the author:

How does the burrito make it through the tunnel with those power
generation and braking coils under Pennsylvania? Even with the magnets
to keep the burrito off the ground and the special casing, whatever
friction remains means that the burrito will need some additional
energy to make it to New York. Braking works against that end. (Maybe
I missed something.)

His reply:

No, I think the friction situation is totally horrible, no matter how
you set it up. I put in the braking as a bravura kind of thing, to
try and distract people from thinking about it too hard…

I’ll keep trying to ignore that to most fully enjoy this passage: “Weehawken residents still recall the great blackout of 2002, when computers running the braking coils shut down and for four hours burritos traced graceful arcs into the East River, glowing like faint red sparks in the night).”

See also


This site is approaching a year since the first post, and it deserved a realignment. What’s new:

It’s not a drastic change, and I think it’s for the better.

Oh, and that photograph that was in the first design and is the new cover: its subject is in Gmaps.

Big Black Gorilla

An anecdote retold from my memory of my father’s memory:

We’re in the car; I’m probably six or seven, and my dad is driving. As a large black man walks by, I ask something like, “what is that big black gorilla doing over there?” Dad becomes sick, wonders how I got the idea to think that, let alone to say it. He looks a little farther up the street, where a man in a gorilla suit is promoting some shop. Dad becomes embarrassed that he suspected me; I don’t even realize anything happened. Around ten years later he tells me about it.

I’m probably getting the story wrong, so comments are open for you to correct the record, dad.