Look, you get born, you keep your head down, and then you die. If you’re lucky.
#fedi22
My no-doubt incomplete list (I enjoy watching old favourites over):
I thought it was an homunculus.
I can cook over a wood fire and teach others the same. I can do carpentry with un-powered hand tools to an acceptable level. I am a pretty decent archer. Hopefully I could find a group of survivors who valued those skills over my delicious flesh.
I fucking love this. I mean, I absolutely hate that this is the optimal way to pack 17 squares into a larger square such that the size of the larger square is minimised.
There’s a brain echo in here.
HTTP is a stateless medium.
Which means a website doesn’t (can’t) remember what you did before on it. Each time you click a link it’s like the first time the website has ever seen you.
This makes it impossible to ‘sign in’ to a website.
The way they get around this is by dumping a small piece of code on your computer that says ‘hi website, it’s me and I have a proper account and am logged in’. That’s a cookie. And yes, websites need them to operate any kind of user experience.
So instead of a page that says ‘who the fuck are you?’ It can now retrieve the info from the cookie and show you the page that says ‘hi, KuromiGirl04, what’s happening? You’re all logged in and can access your account details or carry on from where you were before’.
Originally cookies could only be created, and then read back, by one website. So, eg, if you logged into your account on foobar.com, only foobar.com could read that cookie back.
But someone came up with the brilliant idea of third party cookies. So now, if you visit foobar.com you also (if you agree to it) get cookies created by facebork, grabble, aggressive-advertiser, the nra, the nsa, the kkk, and whoever else has convinced foobar.com that they get some value out of the deal.
That’s where the hundreds of cookies you need to scroll down and deny come from. Mostly advertisers or analytics, or advertisers, web optimisers, or advertisers…. And these third party cookies can be read anywhere by the company that sets them.
That way, when you visit shoefuckeringfreak.com facebork knows you’ve visited it and suddenly starts showing you sexy, sexy shoes on your facebork feed. And so forth.
“Can I score off you?”
Is your ganja good, though?
My great grandfather’s body was recovered and is buried at the Fairview Lawn Cemetery in Halifax, Novia Scotia. His wife was never told his body had been recovered and my sister was the first member of the family to ever visit his grave.
I read this book, published in 1981.
tl;dr - kid on skiing holiday, broke his hand, spent two weeks figuring out the cube, wrote book.
My great grandfather died on the Titannic. He was engine-room crew.
Is this what you say to scammers when they call you?
As I recall, we all just teased him for being so monumentally ugly that he was safe from molestation. It was a simpler time!
Used to hitchhike all over south west Scotland when I was a kid in the early '80s.
No real drama or stories except the one time three of us were hitching and the car that pulled over was being driven by a guy who was locally known as a ‘kiddy fiddler’.
Two of us hopped over a dry stane dyke, leaving just one kid to get a lift with him. Nothing happened to him, but in retrospect it was a shitty move on our part.
I zan tough ty[e thos well.
My friends are very proud 'boro supporters who have season tickets etc. I doubt they’d agree with you but their judgement is questionable.
Been there once that I recall - friends from university came from up that way. Surely if you’re going for a takeaway in Middlesbrough you get a parmo?
I live in one of the places that gets n the top ten best places in the country to live. Not sure I’d agree, but then I’m a country boy at heart.
Haven’t been there in many years, but I’m sure it’s actually very lovely.
They also offer bacon, garlic sausage, salami, meatballs, Tandoori chicken, and ‘Mexican’ chicken whatever that is.
So the Hossenfeffer only has 40% of their meat choices.
And, yes, it’s ironic, I know, that they don’t do rabbit.
Minor: on a rough Channel crossing, a friend stepped outside to throw up, but was facing into the wind. Face covered. He looked like the shittest panda ever when he took his specs off.
Medium: back in my university days I hung around with some 13th century reenactment types. One of them was walking up a grass bank and stabbing his broadsword into the ground to give himself something to hold on to as he went. Then he missed the ground and stabbed himself in the foot, right through his boot. He threw the boot away in anger, but one of my housemates rescued it and put it in pride of place on our mantlepiece. The best part was when the guy realised he didn’t have any other boots to wear so had to come around, ask for the boot back so he could stitch it up and wear it again. AKA the medieval equivalent of shooting yourself in the foot.
Major: I once saw a car ignore the lights and sirens of a fire engine at a crossroads and drive into the side of it at about 40 mph / 65 kph. The fire engine was on its way to a fire so the water tanks would have been full. It barely rocked from the impact but the entire engine compartment of the car displaced into the passenger compartment.
Ridley Scott for the win!