Am I having a stroke or are you?

Windigoon just did a video on this guy, it’s a wild story

They have a literal monopoly on the service and the analytical data the sell makes more money then advertising ever could.

A ton, but the one I’m most inclined to talk about is The Thing (1982). We rewatch it almost weekly since I introduced my spouse to it which is amazing because each time we spend about an hour afterwards dissecting the things motives, the order of replacements, different theories, etc. It’s truely one of the best movies ever made. The practical effects get a ton of praise, but for me it’s just gotta efficiently the movie is at what it does. You know every character within minutes of their appearance, you feel the alienation and paranoia, and the thing itself is so inexplicable that even after hundreds of watches in my life time I genuinely can’t rationalize why it does what it does.

The 2011 one would have been better if they left in the pilot alien and had better set and custome guys. It doesn’t feel like a pequal, it feels like a remake set in 2011.

I was using sync thing and syncfork previously, but they didn’t allow me to sort my new files into the existing structures without getting on the computer and sorting them that way. Id like to cut out the middleman that is my desktop and just move things directly to the server if possible.

My money is on jared letto

I’ll be honest, weakening the point of a counter protest under a regime that doesn’t listen to protests and encourages it’s followets to hunt good people for sport is like saying you’re watering down my water with ice. The only way this counter protest would make any lasting changes to our society is if that bomb went off.

So the cool s has no verified origin ans has occured in childlore functionally spontaneously across every demographic. It occurs in every nation with very little variation, regardless of language, and as far as symbols go, it’s remarkably complex to be appearing so consistently with 14 distinct lines.

For this reason, my silly theory is actually that it’s the yellow sign. The symbol of the eldrich elder god of manipupations of the cthulhu mythos, the king in yellow, Hastur. Thus, among his mind warping eldritch knowledge is the true secret to writing your full name in the cool S font.

Start at the very beginning and just watch every episode. A lot of tge older ones aren’t amazing or memorable or ground breaking, but every single one of them is enjoyable and the amazing ones are spaced out well enough that you have time to ponder them funing thd lesser episodes.

I havent made them myself, I drafted them for a student to make for her special needs sibling. That said, I have some really nice headphones with broken plastic that I’ve been meaning to modify.

I modeled it off of a pair of Panasonic EAH-20 that I had back in highschool but with wider bands to allow a bit more robustness and with holes and slots for 3m screws.

I’m not a fan of monster hunter and souls games. I’ve given them try aftet try, but they just don’t jive with me. Part of it is the jrpg aesthetic. I was never a final fantasy kid so it just doesn’t hit me the way sword and sorcery do. I’m not a get gud player. When a game gets tough, I get weird and I love games that encourage me to do things unexpected instead of hitting me with a stick for not doing the expected. Monster hunter feels very similar on that aspect, I get no satisfaction for perfectly executing a button combo, I get satisfaction from finding an unexpected gear combo.

If they’re your game, l love that for you. I like seeing people have fun. I just don’t find it there personally.

I have templates for metal parts you can cut and bend with hand tools and a cheap dremel. I can send it to you if you want.

Yes, but they’re also right, Bisney would just make it palps again…

To add to this, there’s the cost trade. To use one of these 0days as a resource means the result needs to be equal to or more than the cost of using this. If it cost my opponent $3 to cause a problem, and it costs me $6 to fix it, my opponent effectively profited off of that exchange. I can’t think of a single journalist since Watergate that could cost the government enough money to be worth paying for this kind of removal when it’s far cheaper to have them murdered let them die peacefully in their sleep from bullet inhalation. Not to mention that it shows their hand if they so it publicly and makes future targets harder to hit.

You and I will never be worth the kind of money that currently takes, but if they get an official back door installed the cost goes down so far that it would literally never be a loss.

It’s because we’re not a group, we’re the defendants of two rivsl factions that flooded the state during its inception in order to swing the vote in whether or not we’d be a slave state. It’s so insanely polarized here that you can’t drive two blocks without seeing both extremes.

If they’re in the same sarlacc, maybe Boba only managed it because the sarlacc was currently weakened by the psychic battle with the sith lord. Who in turn capitalizes on the distraction caused by Boba to then escape himself.

Genuinely considered Boba Fett’s escape being the catalyst that sets the guy free. Could even retcon in that the only reason either worked was because of the other. Boba fett’s bombs could only weaken it because of the psychic battle it was already in, sith guy won the psychic battle because the sarlacc was distracted by the bombs.

Could even capitalize on book of Boba fett by having fett play a reluctant hero role for the new cast, informing them of the sith guy’s plans because they were both connected through the sarlacc so there was some bleed over.

More so than you’d probably think. 4-chan is the vat that the current wave of fascism gestated in.

Impossibly ancient sith Lord spending millennia using the force to escape a sarlacc and arriving just as the empire falls and the new republic is trying to start would have been so much better than “somehow… Palpatine returned”

Since that dream I have felt the grinding knowledge of the pool in a number of other dreams. Often when I have a nightmare, the low rumble coming before I realize I’m dreaming and changing the dream world back to something familiar.

The second of these things came about 4 years ago. I found myself dreaming of a house I grew up in, a Victorian style house that had been divided into a triplex before my parents had attempted to buy it. As I wondered it in a nostalgic tour, the basalt pool warned me of something near. I understood that if I wanted to continue enjoying myself I should avoid the back hall. I wondered if this was a warning and it assured I was safe either way. I’d make a perfect horror movie protagonist, when warned by an eldritch entity beyond my comprehension I opted to immediately investigate.

As I stepped into the hall I found myself suspended hundreds of feet in the air over a flat unending expanse of sallow land as black ashes drifted by on a weak wind. Below me, across the entirety and coming from all directions, single file lines of people marched on to the singular landmark of this world.

At the center of these endless queues was an impossibly vast hole, not in the ground but in reality. Rising from it was the torso of a gaunt and boney humanoid being. Below me the people were ants and still this creatures towered over my vantage point. It’s skin was the same sickly baige of the landscape and the sky. Its arms triple jointed and ending in hands that’s were barely human. Its posture was that of someone desperately trying to hide their nakedness with only their arms as a shield. Its face terminated in a flat plane just below the tip of the nose so that it’s nostrils were hinted by the barest of transition from the upper lip. Floating close but distinctly separate from where it’s face ended was yet another hole like void, situated level to where the eyes would have been and evoking the image of a horrid halo. The ash fell freely from this second void and just barely, the glow of foreign stars could be seen within.

As I took in this sight I understood that the marching lines ended as each person jumped into the void below. Some would fall to the plateau of the entity’s head to be consumed, the rest became the ash in the air. On occasions, the thing would pause in it’s futile efforts to hide itself and reach miles into the lines around it to pluck a single person by their throat. When I asked the basalt why I was greated with a vision from its perspective. As the lengthy fingers pinched their target the victim fractured, echoes of their form expanding out in a starburst, each a representation of possibly. Every potential version of a being throughout all potential timelines, each seized by the throat and violently ripped from their anchor before being carelessly tossed to fizzle away in the wind. Through the pool I understood that this is both the principle of pain and ecstasy for the victim, an infinite moment of sensation as they sease to be in every possible way.

I ask aloud why I’m seeing this and instead of answer, the rumble grows from within me as the entity takes notice for the first time that we’ve intruded. Before it make a move I’m back above the pool, then back in my childhood house, as if I’d just entered the back hall. Ash lingers in the air but fades away to nothing before my eyes. I wake.