Kbase Article of the Week: Cannot Select GeForce 9400M Graphics in Windows on MacBook Pro (15-inch, Late 2008), MacBook Pro (17-inch, Early 2009), MacBook Pro (15-inch, Mid 2009), and MacBook Pro (17-inch, Mid 2009) »

Long title; short article:

You may notice that the built-in NVIDIA GeForce 9400M graphics subsystem does not appear in the Device Manager and cannot be used with Microsoft Windows XP or Vista.

Windows is not able to take advantage of the GeForce 9400M graphics processor and by default uses the GeForce 9600M GT discrete graphics processor.

Bitcode May Be Key to x86/ARM Developer Transition »

Steven Troughton-Smith has spent some time testing one route to get from x86 to ARM for Mac apps:

Of course, the specter of macOS on ARM has been in the public psyche for many years now, and many have pondered whether Bitcode will make this transition more straightforward. The commonly held belief is that Bitcode is not suited to massive architectural changes like moving between Intel and ARM.

I was unconvinced, so I decided to test the theory!

I don’t think Apple would automatically recompile everything in the Mac App Store for ARM, but I do think this will be the way forward for Mac developers as the Intel Mac Era comes to a close very soon.

Marzipan Apps and the Mac App Store »

Dave Mark, writing at The Loop:

Interesting difference between the Mac and iOS is the ability to download and run a Mac app without any involvement from Apple. While you can sideload an iOS app using Apple’s Mobile Device Management, Test Flight, or by building the app yourself, none of those offer the freedom the Mac brings.

Will Marzipan change that, even a bit? Will I be able to download a Marzipan app from a developer’s site and just run it on my Mac? Or will Marzipan restrict apps to the Mac App Store?

I would bet good money that Marzipan apps are only available through the Mac App Store.

Artemis’ Pending Battles 

Artemis — the new name for NASA’s initiative to put humans back on the moon by the end of 2024 — may be defined by its new, flashy goal, but as Loren Grush writes, it has an up-hill battle to even have a shot at the lunar surface:

NASA’s first big hurdle is a political one. Over the next few months, the space agency must sell this initiative to Congress, which controls the government’s budget. Lawmakers may like the idea of putting women on the Moon, but they may not want to raid the budgets of other federal programs to help NASA achieve its goal. Plus, Congress has to buy into NASA’s blueprint for this lunar return mission, and lawmakers will be taking a close look at how the space agency plans to get there.

On Monday, the White House and NASA announced an extra $1.6 billion in funding for the agency, but the source of the money is worrisome, as reported by Jill Colvin:

Under a budget amendment sent to Congress Monday evening, the administration would use an additional $1.9 billion in surplus Pell Grant money to fund other budget priorities, including an infusion of new cash for NASA “so that we can return to Space in a BIG WAY!” President Donald Trump tweeted.

[…]

Officials insisted the re-allocation of the Pell Grant money would have no impact on those currently receiving grants, which help low-income students pay for college.

“This does not cut any spending for Pell Grant programs as the budget continues to ensure all students will get their full Pell Grant and keeps the program on sound fiscal footing,” Office of Management and Budget spokesman Wesley Denton said in a statement.

Enrollment in the program has declined since 2011, leading to a surplus of nearly $9 billion, according to the budget office.

That’s certainly complicated to consider, and it means that Congress may have a hard time approving it, but it may not matter, as the $1.6 billion is probably just the start of what it will take to put boots on the lunar surface, and much of the needed hardware is nowhere near ready — and may require more time than the deadline allows.

I don’t think Artemis is impossible, but I can’t help but think the nation is not ready to get behind it like it was in the 1960s when Kennedy challenged us to go the moon the first time.

Connected #243: I Win Money Because It’s Green »

This week on the show:

Federico floats a conspiracy about iTunes, the crew check in on their 2019 predictions, and Myke makes a huge promise before Stephen shares about his Pixel 3a.

If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be making space over here for my new ARM Mac.

My thanks to our sponsors:

  • Backblaze: Unlimited cloud backup for Macs and PCs for just $6/month.
  • Squarespace: Make your next move. Enter offer code CONNECTED at checkout to get 10% off your first purchase.
  • Pingdom: Start monitoring your websites and servers today. Use offer code CONNECTED to get 30% off.

Moments 

A decade ago, my wife and I saw our entire lives change in a moment when our oldest son was diagnosed with brain cancer.

That moment, of course, was a series of events. First, a checkup at the pediatrician’s office that ended with our doctor raising some concerns. Then the ultrasound the next day that ended with the doctor telling us to drive to the local children’s hospital, without stopping. There was a team of doctors and nurses waiting for us, he said.

Then there was the first MRI which showed the extent of the tumor. When they sat us down to tell us, we learned how bad it was.

It was bad.

The moments picked up speed. The number of scans and surgeries started to grow at an alarming rate, and before we knew it, we had been admitted to St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital and they were hooking up the first round of chemotherapy.

At the other end of that bag was our six month old.

After that first round, the moments came so fast that even now, ten years later, I can’t quite pull them apart from one another. Chemo, blood draws, pneumonia. MRIs, feeding tubes, seizures. Rinse, wash, repeat.

It was bad.

But it wasn’t all bad.

In that season, we were surrounded by friends and families who cared for us, and not just in the handywavy fashion of tweets about thoughts and prayers. We were carried through these moments by members of our church who did our laundry, cleaned our apartment, paid for our groceries and more. They sat with us, cried with us, prayed with us and shared in our deepest days and darkest nights. It was life together, despite the messiness and pain we brought into the community.

Eventually the moments slowed down. Josiah completed his last round of chemo and our daughter Allison was born. We had been into the arena and came out alive, but heavily scarred. The marks on his scalp were ever-present reminders of the damage done to each of us.

When he came off treatment and we were thrust back into everyday life, the wheels came off for me. The trauma hit me all at once, but thanks to my pastors, friends and an incredible therapist, I’m still here today.

The years since have been marked with ups and downs. The truly scary moments have become less frequent over time, slowly fading away as joyous moments have become brighter. Kindergarten graduations, church musicals, good MRIs. Learning to walk, learning to run, learning to ride a bike. Rinse, wash, repeat.

Josiah is not out of the woods, but the challenges have changed as he’s grown. Seizures and other echos of his past continue to be obstacles, but celebrating ten years with his diagnosis is a true gift.

Not every family with a sick kid get to celebrate this milestone. We have friends who are burying their child this week after a years-long battle with a catastrophic disease. The contrast is blinding, and the survivor’s guilt is heavy. Being around so many of our friends this week to honor this family has been hard, but so many of our conversations have been full of thankfulness for Josiah’s wellbeing. It’s humbling that so many people care so much, even ten years into this battle.

I don’t know what the future holds. I don’t know why kids get sick, or what we’re supposed to do when they die, but I have come to believe that all things can be used for good, and for the benefit of those still here. I see that in the lives of every sick kid I have ever met, regardless of how their story ends.

It would be a lie for me to say that I am thankful for the last ten years, but I am stronger for living through them, and hopefully, a better person, husband and father.