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i can't stop thinking about this. they needed something that sounded terrifying but which wasn't as kid-unsafe as “death”. but to ”mista sin fantasi” (“lose one's imagination”) is like a fate worse than death. it's a genuine existential horror. did they know what they had written

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PC-98 USER: If Sex is so good why didn't they make a Sex 2

SIMONE DE BEAUVOIR:

My autistic ass: what do these have gestures and postures mean? I don't understand body language.

Also my autistic ass: I can tell when my dog is just trying to sniff something gross in the grass versus when she actually needs to do her business based on how she pulls the leash and moves her head

SEIZE JOY FROM THE JAWS OF PAIN. DO YOU HAVE SOMEONE YOU CAN TALK TO?

queer who plays too much Minecraft: no babe, i like your tits fine, i was just wondering if you could make them more square

I thought I understood the extent to which the broad availability of mobile location data has exacerbated countless privacy and security challenges. That is, until I was invited along with four other publications to be a virtual observer in a 2-weeek test run of Babel Street, a service that lets users draw a digital polygon around nearly any location on a map of the world, and view a time-lapse history of the mobile devices seen coming in and out of the area.

The issue isn't that there's some dodgy company offering this as a poorly-vetted service: It's that *anyone* willing to spend a little money can now build this capability themselves.

I'll be updating this story with links to reporting from other publications also invited, including 404 Media, Haaretz, NOTUS, and The New York Times. All of these stories will make clear that mobile location data is set to massively complicate several hot-button issues, from the tracking of suspected illegal immigrants or women seeking abortions, to harassing public servants who are already in the crosshairs over baseless conspiracy theories and increasingly hostile political rhetoric against government employees.

krebsonsecurity.com/2024/10/th

poem 

In memory of a programmer. v0.3.

In a corner of the cemetery,
on grass, beneath an old tree,
lies a tombstone, fallen,
covered by moss and leaf,
a name, two dates, five words,
a summary of a life of grief:
"how hard can it be?"

I love the expression “for the time being” because I always read it in my head as “in servitude to the deity of chronology”

athena's like "you realize that you're coming on pretty strong for someone who's single right?"

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fun fact about this heatsink:
They did not, in fact, drill the screw holes at an angle. That was too hard, so they drilled them vertically, and just bent the screws.

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