When Was The First Vim And Vigor Campbell Novel Released?

Totally hit this snag before — you open a file in vim, make your edits, and then bam: permission denied when you try to save. The neat little trick I use most often is this one-liner from inside vim: :w !sudo tee % >/dev/null What that does is write the buffer to the sudoed 'tee' command, which will overwrite the original file as root. The % expands to the current filename, so the full flow is: vim hands the file contents to sudo tee, tee writes it with elevated rights, and the >/dev/null part hides the tee output so your buffer stays as-is. After that you can do :q to quit. I like this because it’s fast and doesn’t require reopening the file as root. If you want a slightly cleaner approach, consider using sudoedit (sudo -e) to open files with your preferred editor as a temporary safe copy — it edits a temp file and then installs it as root, which is safer from a security perspective. For convenience I sometimes create a vim command or mapping, like cnoremap W!! w !sudo tee % >/dev/null, so typing :W!! saves without fuss. Also, if you frequently need root saves, the plugin 'sudo.vim' (provides commands like :SudoWrite) is worth installing. Each method has trade-offs: the tee trick is quick, sudoedit is safer, and opening vim with sudo from the start (sudo vim file) works but bypasses some safety models.

If I had to pick a short list right off the bat, I'd put chrome-vanadium and S2 tool steel at the top for most durable vim wrench models. Chrome-vanadium (Cr-V) is what you'll see on a lot of high-quality ratchets and hex sets—it balances hardness and toughness well, resists wear, and takes a nice finish. S2 is a shock-resisting tool steel that's common for bits and hex keys designed to take a lot of torque without snapping. For heavy, impact-style use, chrome-molybdenum (Cr-Mo) or 4140/6150 alloys are common because they absorb shocks better and can be heat-treated for high strength. Finish and heat treatment matter as much as base alloy. Hardened and tempered tools in the HRC 52–62 range tend to last; too hard and they become brittle, too soft and they round off. Coatings like black oxide, phosphate, or nickel chrome help with corrosion; TiN or other nitriding can up wear resistance. In short: pick S2 or Cr-V for everyday durability, Cr-Mo for impact-duty, and pay attention to heat treatment and finish for real longevity. I tend to favor sets with solid forging and clear HRC specs—that’s saved me from snapping a hex at an awkward moment.

Honestly, I treat my tools a little like prized comics on a shelf — I handle them, clean them, and protect them so they last. When it comes to a vim wrench, the simplest habit is the most powerful: wipe it down after every use. I keep a small stash of lint-free rags and a bottle of light machine oil next to my bench. After I finish a job I wipe off grit and sweat, spray a little solvent if there’s grime, dry it, then apply a thin coat of oil with a rag so there’s no wet residue to attract rust. For bits of surface rust that sneak in, I’ll use fine steel wool or a brass brush to take it off, then neutralize any remaining rust with a vinegar soak followed by a baking soda rinse if I’ve used acid. For long-term protection I like wax — a microcrystalline wax like Renaissance or even paste car wax gives a water-repellent layer that’s pleasantly invisible. If the wrench has moving parts, I disassemble and grease joints lightly and check for play. Storage matters almost as much as treatment: a dry toolbox with silica gel packets, not left in a damp car or basement, keeps rust away. Little routines add up — a five-minute wipe and oil once a month will make that wrench feel like new for years.

I get a little giddy thinking about how Campbell would jump from ancient myths to movie clips in the same breath. In my view, he didn't limit himself to a neat list—he treated films as living myths, so his lectures pull examples from Hollywood and world cinema alike. If you sit through recordings or read transcripts, you'll regularly hear him refer to films such as 'Star Wars' (which he famously praised for tapping into archetypal patterns), 'The Wizard of Oz' (as a modern fairy tale of initiation), and older spectacles like 'King Kong' or 'The Thief of Bagdad' as examples of primal imagery and quest motifs. He also reached into more symbolic or art-house territory when the material fit: think 'Metropolis' for industrial and creation myths, 'The Seventh Seal' for confrontation with death, and occasionally science-fiction like '2001: A Space Odyssey' when addressing cosmic or transcendence themes. Beyond specific titles, Campbell often drew on John Ford westerns such as 'Stagecoach' and 'The Searchers' to illustrate cultural myths embedded in American landscapes. If you want a shortcut, revisit 'The Hero with a Thousand Faces' and 'The Power of Myth' while watching those films—Campbell’s points pop in cinematic examples, and hearing him connect the scenes to archetypes is genuinely rewarding.

I get a little giddy thinking about the intellectual buffet that fed Joseph Campbell’s ideas. To me he feels like a blender — someone who read everything from mythic epics to modern psychology and then made this delicious, controversial smoothie. The big, unavoidable names are Carl Jung and Sigmund Freud: Jung’s archetypes and collective unconscious are everywhere in Campbell’s thinking, and Freud’s work on dreams and the unconscious provided another psychological lens. On the comparative-mythology side, James Frazer’s 'The Golden Bough' looms large; Campbell drew on Frazer’s catalog of ritual and myth motifs again and again. But there’s more texture: Heinrich Zimmer, the Indologist and historian of Indian art, was a personal mentor and a huge influence — Zimmer opened Campbell to the ways Indian myths refract universal themes. Mircea Eliade and Max Müller offered religious-history and philological perspectives that helped him connect ritual, symbol, and text. Structuralists and anthropologists like Bronisław Malinowski and, later, Claude Lévi‑Strauss fed into the framework that myths have underlying structures and social functions. And then there are the literary and ancient sources he lived inside: Homer, the Bible, the Upanishads, the 'Mahabharata' and 'Ramayana', the Brothers Grimm. Nietzsche’s ideas about the will and the tragic hero also echo in Campbell’s hero-journey patterns. When I talk about this to friends, I like pointing out how Campbell’s voice is more synthesizer than originator — he turned threads from Freud, Jung, Frazer, Zimmer, Eliade, Müller, and classic literature into a narrative that felt accessible. That’s why some scholars love him and some scholars bristle: he’s interpretive and wide-ranging, not a narrow, technical scholar. Personally I find that mix inspiring; it makes me want to go read Jung and then chase that down into Homer or the Vedas, just to see the raw materials for myself.

If you're running MacVim (the mvim command) on macOS, the simplest, most reliable route for me has been vim-plug. It just feels clean: drop a tiny bootstrap file into ~/.vim/autoload, add a few lines to ~/.vimrc, then let the plugin manager handle the rest. For vim-plug I run: curl -fLo ~/.vim/autoload/plug.vim --create-dirs https://raw.githubusercontent.com/junegunn/vim-plug/master/plug.vim. After that I edit ~/.vimrc and add: call plug#begin('~/.vim/plugged') Plug 'tpope/vim-sensible' Plug 'junegunn/fzf', { 'do': { -> fzf#install() } } call plug#end() Then I launch MacVim with mvim and run :PlugInstall (or from the shell mvim +PlugInstall +qall) and watch the plugins clone and install. A few handy things: if a plugin needs build steps, check its README; some require ctags, ripgrep, or Python support. Also remember MacVim reads your ~/.vimrc (and you can put GUI tweaks in ~/.gvimrc). If you prefer built-in package management, the pack/start method works too: mkdir -p ~/.vim/pack/vendor/start && git clone ~/.vim/pack/vendor/start/, then restart mvim.

Okay, here’s the short version first, but then I’ll expand — I love geeking out about editor choices. For plugins, Neovim is the one that pushed the ecosystem forward: it brought a clean RPC-based plugin model, first-class async job handling, and a modern Lua API that plugin authors love. That means a lot of recent plugins are written in Lua or expect Neovim-only features like virtual text, floating windows, and extmarks. The result is snappier, more feature-rich plugins that can do things without blocking the UI. If you use 'm vim' (think classic Vim or MacVim builds), you still get a massive, mature plugin ecosystem. Many plugin authors keep compatibility with Vim, and core functionality works fine — but some newer plugins either require extra patches, rely on Vim being compiled with specific features (job control, Python/Ruby/Node support), or are Neovim-only because they use the Lua or RPC APIs. Practically, that means your favorite long-lived plugins like statuslines, file explorers, and linters usually work on either, but cutting-edge integrations (native LSP clients, modern completion engines written in Lua) will feel more at home in Neovim. My take: if you want modern plugins, async performance, and future-facing features, Neovim wins. If you prefer a familiar Vim experience, GUI comforts on macOS, or rely on plugins that haven’t migrated, 'm vim' still serves well. I ended up switching because I wanted Lua-based configs and non-blocking LSP, but I still keep a light Vim profile around for quick GUI sessions.

Oh wow, trimming 'mvim' startup is one of those tiny joys that makes the whole day smoother. I usually start by profiling so I know what's actually slow: run mvim --startuptime ~/vim-startup.log and open that log. It quickly shows which scripts or plugins dominate time. Once I know the culprits, I move heavy things into autoload or optional plugin folders so they only load when needed. Next, I use lazy-loading with a plugin manager like 'vim-plug' (Plug 'foo', { 'on': 'SomeCommand' } or 'for': ['python', 'javascript']). Put plugins you need immediately in 'start' and everything else in 'opt' or load by filetype. Also disable unnecessary providers (let g:loaded_python_provider = 0, let g:loaded_ruby_provider = 0) if you don't use them — that shave off seconds. Finally, keep UI tweaks minimal for GUI start: font fallback, complex statuslines and external helpers (like large LSPs) can wait until you open a project. After a few iterations of profile → defer → test, 'mvim' feels snappy and more pleasant to use.