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Why don't we call astronomers Skyentists?
Bad command or file name. Bad, bad command! Sit! Stay! Staaaay...
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For the same reason we don't call cola manufacturers Fizzisists.
"the debugger doesn't tell me anything because this code compiles just fine" - random QA comment
"Facebook is where you tell lies to your friends. Twitter is where you tell the truth to strangers." - chriselst
"I don't drink any more... then again, I don't drink any less." - Mike Mullikins uncle
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And the same reason we don't call clockmakers alarmists.
/ravi
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Which is the reason we don't call people who study magic spirits, Genealogists.
"the debugger doesn't tell me anything because this code compiles just fine" - random QA comment
"Facebook is where you tell lies to your friends. Twitter is where you tell the truth to strangers." - chriselst
"I don't drink any more... then again, I don't drink any less." - Mike Mullikins uncle
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Or thin-skinned cab drivers taxidermists.
/ravi
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Or automotive body shop workers dentists.
"the debugger doesn't tell me anything because this code compiles just fine" - random QA comment
"Facebook is where you tell lies to your friends. Twitter is where you tell the truth to strangers." - chriselst
"I don't drink any more... then again, I don't drink any less." - Mike Mullikins uncle
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Ravi Bhavnani wrote: And the same reason we don't call clockmakers alarmists.
Well that's just cuckoo!
I am not a number. I am a ... no, wait!
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Yes, that rings a bell.
/ravi
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Because it Mars their reputation and the shame is then visited upon their Suns, for Star-ters.
I am not a number. I am a ... no, wait!
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Would a black hole hunting algorithm return an array of void?
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For the same reason no one says to Frank Gehry in reference to his architecture "Ogive me a break"?
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1969 pioneer programmers should've been called FORTRUNners.
Life is too shor
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megaadam wrote: 1969
FORTRAN was invented in 1954 and its first compiler implemented in 1957. By 1969, ironically, things were a lot more BASIC (though C was just around the corner). FORTRAN programmers in 1969 ahead of the pack? What a load of COBOLers, and that's a FACT!
I am not a number. I am a ... no, wait!
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I live in a remote and backward region of the world called Scandinavia. 1957 our primitive lands were still ruled by Vikings with blunt swords. Suddenly things sped up: We got sliced bread in 1965. But we never heard of FORTRAN before 1969. And this is no Smalltalk.
Life is too shor
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So 1965 is when knife sharpeners were introduced to Scandinavia? Can't slice bread with a blunt sword.
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What a load of Lexophilia!!
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[^] "The image above looks like concept art for a new dystopian sci-fi film. A billionaire superman with a rictus grin, striding straight past human drones, tethered to machines and blinded to reality by blinking plastic masks."
«In art as in science there is no delight without the detail ... Let me repeat that unless these are thoroughly understood and remembered, all “general ideas” (so easily acquired, so profitably resold) must necessarily remain but worn passports allowing their bearers short cuts from one area of ignorance to another.» Vladimir Nabokov, commentary on translation of “Eugene Onegin.”
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Very soon we will all be assimilated like the poor slobs in the photo! 
Get me coffee and no one gets hurt!
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Cornelius Henning wrote: like the poor slobs in the photo
Oh c'mon! Like anybody who's poor gets to go to the Mobile World Congress let alone is allowed to come within half a mile of Mark Zuckerberg!
I am not a number. I am a ... no, wait!
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I did not mean "poor" in the financial sense, but more as a synonym for "pathetic".
Get me coffee and no one gets hurt!
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Er ... yes ... I know ... jester's licence! 
I am not a number. I am a ... no, wait!
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The jester should use the joke icon, so we know he is in play. 
Get me coffee and no one gets hurt!
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Well I suppose that's one way to try concealing that you're working in an open plan office the ninth circle of hell.
Did you ever see history portrayed as an old man with a wise brow and pulseless heart, waging all things in the balance of reason?
Is not rather the genius of history like an eternal, imploring maiden, full of fire, with a burning heart and flaming soul, humanly warm and humanly beautiful?
--Zachris Topelius
Training a telescope on one’s own belly button will only reveal lint. You like that? You go right on staring at it. I prefer looking at galaxies.
-- Sarah Hoyt
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The Ninth Circle, The Hell of Traitors, is a literally a very cool place; it is a vast lake of ice where the Treacherous are buried in four zones whose depth reflects the enormity of their betrayals.
«In art as in science there is no delight without the detail ... Let me repeat that unless these are thoroughly understood and remembered, all “general ideas” (so easily acquired, so profitably resold) must necessarily remain but worn passports allowing their bearers short cuts from one area of ignorance to another.» Vladimir Nabokov, commentary on translation of “Eugene Onegin.”
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