“I bet that new DLC I pre-ordered months ago sucks too.”

sysadmin: continues to ignore auth logs

1. It’s buggy. Submitting a post sometimes takes half a second, and sometimes it takes 30 seconds. Logs show a plethora of errors. The Docker container will eventually crash and restart. It’s all part of the Lemmy instance admin experience.

2. No options to collapse/customize side panels.

3. UI doesn’t refresh after saving settings.

4. Settings aren’t sticky from page to page on occasion.

If I could code I’d pitch in and help. Heck, I’d learn, but the documentation is pretty sparse.

Mom: “We have CERN particle accelerator at home.”

…

Walz puts his cart back. Vance leaves it sitting in the parking spot next to him.

Mom’s spaghetti

It’s designed to keep the prongs from collapsing or extending during manufacturing and shipping.

“Hmm, new compound, eh? Let’s taste it.”

Fine life. Unforgettable voice. Rest in peace sir.

I’m an instance owner and mod. I’ll describe what we see.

Like anyone else, I can check a post or comment and see the upvote and downvote counts. If I click on a specific menu item by a post or comment I can also see who voted which way.

I check it often and to date have only banned two users, out of thousands, who were consistently downvoting posts. These bot accounts were literally voting within seconds of the post going federated.

It’s a useful feature on my end and I think others should be able to see it.

https://imaginationlibrary.com/ is her free books for kids project.

I’m in the same situation - started with the same printer, put money and parts into it to get it to be reliable, and now I can just login to Octoprint and send something with 99% of prints just working. I wipe the build plate down, blast it with a few squeezes of canned air, and it just works.

But now these kids and their Bambus and multi-color print abilities…get off my lawn. Seriously, kids, you’re in my light and I’m trying to get this hotend adjusted…

I hope he or she is better at straightening teeth than straightening vehicles.

Much like the press conference at The Four Seasons (Landscaping).

You’re forgetting wear and tear. When the Yaris is moving, the gas is not the only being used, but so are the tires. And the brake pads and rotors. You’re putting mileage on the odometer, spinning those wheel bearings, blasting the A/C, and maybe loosening up that CV joint more and more every time you turn left. Was that an exhaust leak I’m starting to hear?

With the moving truck, you don’t care about that stuff, as it’s baked into the rental cost. Even when the cost of the trailer is factored in you’ve saved money from wear. You still win.

maybe The Youths would sit up and pay attention.

Wow. A tornado needs to find its way there.

Nowadays? Depends on a whole set of indeterminate variables.

But odds point to tazing. arrest, something on that end of the spectrum.

A Catholic Christmas Eve Vigil (not Midnight - different kind of Mass).

The scene was thus: A strange-to-me Catholic church off of something and Capital in Milwaukee, near where my mom, not a religious person but a nice person, took me and my sis when Christmas happened to fall on our regular visitation weekend one particular year.

The priest spoke on and on, as fathers and Father tend to do. The readings familiar, unre(M)arkable, (L)ukewarm, Psalm verse, same as the first.

The Homily was delivered in the patented priestly monotonic nasally drone, the incense and insensitivity flowing too freely. The easily-employed white, gray-haired, “middle class rich”, Kohl’s-suited, stoic husbands stood, sat, knelt, genuflected, stood, knelt, stood, sat, stood, knelt, genuflected, prayed, sang-chanted, with their wives, who were fully guilt-jeweled for common marital slights, whether real or imagined, or who benefited from rich parents who left their ill-gotten legacies to their ill-raised, now boomer kids who have become reluctantly over-sexed wives. The department store credit cards tucked safely in their expensive clutch purses, these women were fully-prepared to wage full-out Karen-esque, post-Christmas sale consumerist war in the following post-holiday sales season.

Retail workers never stood a chance.

In short: The church was overheated, like hell hot, probably good prep for some of these people, and my not-Catholic mother was next to me trying to morally fix or better herself, or maybe she was trying to impress my sister and I, or, more than likely on reflection, trying to placate my very-Catholic dad and stepmom, but mostly I had been standing for what seemed like FOREVER, and my knees alternately locked and unlocked, and my youth-fitting suit that was too small but too expensive to replace at Kohls just yet sweltered me under imagined and real guilt, and the incense, and the droning, and the HEAT…

I was about 4 seconds from passing out when some stranger approached me and said “Hey, you don’t look OK. Let’s go outside now before you faint.” and I swear it’s the best religious experience I’ve ever had: A human being a human and taking pity on a young kid dealing with physical and emotional distress. I went outside and cooled off in the Midwestern December air. Soon after, my mom and sis came outside and we left in the beater car that smelt like gas if the heater was fully turned on, so we had to leave the freash air selector on and the slider control at no more than 3/4 quarters, but that’s OK because the A/C, which hadn’t functioned in many presidential election cycles, was fully-replaced by the December air, the religious experiment over.

I’m not at all religious but I hope that guy knows just what he did for us that night. We were faking faith, just trying to be good people, and the droning, heat, guilt, and THAT FUCKING CHRISTMAS INCENSE just did us in.

Lesson learned.

Pew or pew not - there is no die.