On the 101st anniversary of the end of the October Revolution #OTD, here's The History of the Soviet Union but it's Steamed Hams
I mentioned this on a Unix mail list, and Doug McIlroy replied.
https://mastodon.social/@mhoye/112615649865163136
We’re starting to see these HAWK crossings pop up in various locations—there are a handful in the #sfba. These beacons are badly designed, and work poorly for *both* pedestrians/cyclists and motorists. The flashing amber/alternating red/red/dark signal patterns are unfamiliar and require written instructions. The whole thing is a mess, and should be scrapped.
These signals should be replaced by a…
Much as I love DxO software and I wish them another 120 years of existence (it's their 20th anniversary)...
Sending me a promotional campaign even though I own everything they sell in their shop was a bit too much.
And sending me 3 emails in French 3 more emails in German left a bit of questionable taste in my mouth.
If I could legally kill one person, it would be whoever invented those fucking Minions
Ich weiss, ihr mögt ja alle kalte #Pizza vom Vorabend zum Frühstück. Ist ja auch was vom Leckersten, das es gibt! 😋
Aber wenn wir Zeit haben, machen wir das inzwischen so:
Pizza ohne Gleitmittel (Öl o.ä.) in eine Bratpfanne legen und bei halber Hitze einige Minuten knusprig braten. Dabei immer wieder etwas rumschupfen, damit sie nicht anbrennt.
Resultat: Unten perfekt knusprig, …
I'm reading The Song of Achilles, which is either a gay romance novel or else a scholarly retelling of The Iliad or both. The prose style is interesting, lyrical and just a bit foreign. It feels like reading translations of Homer only modern and much easier to follow. I'm not normally one for wrought prose but this works to transport me.
Their whispers choked me, turned the food in my mouth to ash. I pushed away my plate and sought out corners and spare halls where I might sit undisturbed, except for the occasional passing servant. My narrow world narrowed further: to the cracks in the floor, the carved whorls in the stone walls. They rasped softly as I traced them with my fingertip.
“I heard you were here.” A clear voice, like ice-melted streams.
My head jerked up. I was in a storeroom, my knees against my chest, wedged between jars of thick-pressed olive oil. I had been dreaming myself a fish, silvered by sun as it leapt from the sea. The waves dissolved, became amphorae and grain sacks again.
Elon "the walking herpe" Musk probably shouldn't be allowed near women *or* monkeys
https://fortune.com/2024/06/16/elon-musk-neuralink-herpes-monkeys-pregnant-employee-lawsuit/