Ángel
@angel@triptico.com
Location: 40.4235492,-3.6617828
102 following, 175 followers
https://youtu.be/EuUyROUN-Bg?si=YboaUH-iSE_8mPTo&t=573
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Cartel del certamen
Comprar LA ATALAYA RECORTADA CONTRA EL CIELO (editorial Libros del Futuro)
Sinopsis:
Bran tuvo una adolescencia complicada, y su vida adulta no es mejor. Una sucesión de pérdidas familiares, una gran cicatriz en la cara y sus circunstancias personales han forjado en ella una personalidad esquiva.Y como si fuera una maldición añadida, la protagonista hereda y debe hacerse cargo de una casa familiar, epicentro de buena parte de las desgracias que se abatieron sobre sus seres queridos.
Una visita a la enmohecida y arruinada vivienda, ubicada en un pequeño pueblo madrileño, sumergirá a Bran en una travesía angustiante por túneles oscuros, estancias claustrofóbicas y seres terroríficos.
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Portada de LA ATALAYA RECORTADA CONTRA EL CIELO
Quien todavía esté ahí es cómplice.
Also, Spanish is my mother tongue, so I have the privilege to read Borges' words as he conceived them, without external intrusion, and is a bliss.
She then asks me where the switch is to turn it back on. I have no idea, of course.Of course, as you do computer stuff, anything regarding cables is your expertise and responsability. Been there.
Anyway, as others have already said, this story says something good about the human quality of this person that, after realising their tantrum was inappropriate, called back and apoligized. Even more so if they're going through something.
We live in a very stressing world.
Fish Alpinism
How I make digital art.
https://triapul.cz/_/1765291397
#unix_surrealism #openbsd #alpine #linux #gimp #art #foss
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artist keyboard
"Hello, I would like to meet warden Titus Riccitelli", I said. The guard was a thin, old man that looked very bored. I gave him my business card.
"Miroslav...", he read it, paused, and said "Like the car?"
"What car?"
"The Corvette."
"No. Like the boat, but with a double T."
"A boat with a double what?"
"Is warden Riccitelli on premises? I have an appointment."
After waiting for a long time and crossing a myriad of corridors and annoying check points I finally got to the warden office.
"So you are Miroslav Corbett", said the warden, a bald, sweaty man with a ridiculous mustache. "I got a message from an angry bureaucrat from the government saying that you were about to come here. You have very important friends up there."
"Oh, I don't think so."
"Do you want a drink?"
"I don't do alcohol."
He looked at me with disdain in his face.
"Listen to me, young man. We are very busy here. I'm sure you don't understand the very important job that we..."
I interrupted him.
"I'm sorry, warden Riccitelli. I'm here for a very specific thing. I'd rather not be here, believe me. I don't want to waste your time. I'm only interested in one of your inmates. Just a short interview in her cell."
"What for?"
"As it says on my business card, I document things."
"What kind of things?"
"I keep a log of out-of-place happenings, reality distortions, unexpected presences and such. The duty of my department is to document the bizarre things that happen since the Great Anomaly..."
"Oh don't talk me about the Great Fucking Anomaly."
"I don't want to talk about it neither. I just need to meet a person that is incarcerated here. I just want to talk to Desdemona Dunkelmorgen."
He looked very upset or surprised or whatever.
"What? No way", he said. "She is the most dangerous person here. She is the most dangerous person in the whole fucking world. And I won't risk my resources by putting anyone of them near that damned bitch from hell."
"Do your employees know that you call them 'resources'?"
Warden Riccitelli took a ceramic ashtray from his table and launched it onto the wall. It exploded into pieces.
"Listen to me, little bastard..."
"Mr. Riccitelli," I interrupted him in my quietest voice while browsing my papers, "I know everything. Desdemona Dunkelmorgen, aka the Queen of Deception, aka the Mistress of Disguise, aka One-Trouble-On-Two-Legs. Born in Madrid, Spain. Who would say, bearing that name? Con artist, mischievous robber, ruthless blackmailer, despicable criminal, drinks while driving. Previous warden report: 'Handle with special care. Do NOT listen to her lies. She could be anywhere, anyone. She could be me or she could be you and you will not notice.' I'm not sure to understand what this last quote means."
"Damn. Holy Christ. I won't send my men to her cell because she will trick those dickheads and everything will go to hell again. I don't want another prison break from that motherfucking vixen. I will go there with you personally."
"I'm sure that is a very intelligent decision on your part."
"Come on, let's do it once for all."
He grabbed his own copy of the keys and we went down the belly of the prison. While on our way, I asked:
"Is it true what they say about her?"
"What do they say?"
"That she looks like no other woman in the world."
He took some time to answer. "To be honest, I don't know how she looks like."
"Haven't you seen her?"
"Not personally."
Not personally, I repeated to myself. What a douchebag.
We crossed the threshold to the hyper-ultra-high security block or whatever they called it and finally got to her cell's door.
"Ok, here we are", he said, "Be extremely careful."
"I'll be."
He unlocked the gate and we entered the cell. A small, barred window almost by the ceiling. Grey and dull walls. A dirty toilet. A chair and a table, no features. And nobody to be seen.
"What the fuck...?", he yelled, "But where...?"
He searched for her like crazy while swearing like a sailor: under the table, under the bed, as if she was as small as a mouse. Then he got back at me, his face red and swollen and sweaty:
"Why are you so calm? What the hell is happening here?"
"Have you heard the adage that the highest achievement of the devil was convincing men that he doesn't exist? Well, they don't call Desdemona Dunkelmorgen the Queen of Deception for nothing. She tricked you, all of you, into believing that she was here. She made you believe that you were able to catch her. In fact, it's a little more complicated; the highest achievement of Desdemona Dunkelmorgen was convincing men that she DOES exist. She is a trick of the mind. She is a glitch, a mirage. She is something that isn't and that shouldn't be."
Warden Riccitelli dropped to the floor, crying like a child.
"Oh my. I'm finished. Everybody will laugh at me for years."
"They'll do", I said, "but don't be too mean to yourself. Everybody was mislead. These illogical issues are overwhelming. All we can do is write about how this unfaithful reality is playing with us."
He jumped up in an explosion of rage, ran to the passage and started yelling at everybody.
"What are you doing there? Do something! Find her! Nuke this fucking place from above! It's the only way to be sure!"
"I'm afraid I have to leave", I said, but he was no longer listening to me.
It was a quiet evening out there. The parking lot at Saint Boniface was almost empty. I wrote some ideas on my notebook, not completely sure that I wasn't Desdemona Dunkelmorgen after all.
EMAIL WRAPPED 2025
This year, you received too fucking much email!
Number of emails that found you well: zero
Number of emails that you printed, even though you didn't consider the environment: zero
Number of times an "out of office" autoresponder was immediately followed by the person answering your email: all of the times
Your favorite email was: none of them
Next year, you are considering: are there any countries where email is illegal, and what are their immigration laws?
This morning, as the zfs-send/receive had finished its job during the night, I performed the last sync and moved FediMeteo from the previous 4 euros/month VPS - netcup - to a 4 euros/month VPS - OVH, Milano, Italy.
Thanks to #BastilleBSD and the jail setup, it was easy peasy.
So, the weather forecasts are now broadcast from Italy and the performance has skyrocketed - while still being served by a 4 euro/month VPS.
I suspect the netcup VM had been capped by the provider - but I'll investigate.
So...Ciao, FediMeteo!
Del lat. ad Ephesios 'a los efesios', título de una epístola de san Pablo, por alus. a las penalidades que pasó el santo en Éfeso durante su predicación.Fuente: Palabra del día del diccionario de la lengua española (RAE)
1. 1. m. Persona o cosa ridícula, extravagante o muy fea.
Sin.:
+ esperpento, fantoche, birria, mamarracho, hazmerreír, facha, espantajo.
2. 2. m. Despropósito, disparate, extravagancia. U. m. en pl.
Madrid, Spain
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Chaotic windows in a modern building, Madrid, Spain
In the past few days I’ve seen talk about RAM prices shooting up due to demand from big datacenters.
Today I read that a historic brand like Crucial - I own plenty of their hardware, including SSDs - is dropping consumer products to focus on gear for those same datacenters.
The result (or maybe the intention?) is to push people away from self hosting, undermine the OwnYourData idea and make everyone depend on huge datacenters for life.
So much for owning your data.
So much for decentralisation.
Because taking down one giant datacenter is far easier than taking down thousands or millions of individual nodes.
Friends and colleagues, don’t trade your freedom for a bit of convenience. Once you give it away, getting it back is very hard.
Always Own Your Data.
Meet the Forgotten Female Artist Behind the World’s Most Popular Tarot Deck (1909)
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The Strength tarot card by Colman-Smith shows a figure dressed in a white robe with roses petting a lion.
There is a different telling of this story that says that, when everybody met, nobody had chosen the same verses; because of this, after deletion, the poem was left with only three lines, the ones chosen by Ovid. He was not upset, though, because he saw it coming: the slaughtered text showed Latin words for "My friends are a bunch of hateful motherfuckers".
I'm in a very old house with a wardrobe in each bedroom and I'm checking every single one of them for Narnia access because magic is everywhere and also I really need to get the hell away from these people
Salvatore Sanfilippo (creator of Redis, and more) published a beautiful video inspired by my latest blog post. I was really pleased! It's in Italian, but auto-generated English audio track is available.
No hay respuestas mágicas: si sigues creyendo en esa historia, reescribe el principio. Si ya no, pues al cajón, y a por otra.
DUFF v KORN 2
prev: https://merveilles.town/@prahou/115508225024561937
#unix_surrealism #plan9 #9front #korn #ksh #rc #comic #linux #lo0 #technomage #openblade #openbsd
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Daemon: "I think that looks pretty good! Don't you?"
Kshboy: "Haha, yeah! You made it in troff?"
Daemon: "Yeah!"
Kshboy: "Cool!"
DEAR MISTER DUFF, MY BEST FRIEND AND I WERE WONDERING, IF YOU COULD BEAT KORN IN A FIGHT. WE KNOW OF A GREAT PLACE WHERE YOU COULD DO BATTLE.
Daemon: "We can just swap the names with sed for the other letter!"
Kshboy: "But how do we get it to them? We don't even know where they live..."
Daemon: "I have an idea. Let's rewrite it!"
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Random penguins hand a leaflet to Techno-Mage.
DUFF V KORN
DUEL OF THE AGES
WHEN: NEXT FULL MOON
WHERE: THE BIG HILL OUTSIDE FOSSTOWN
WHOEVER DOESN'T SHOW AUTOMATICALLY LOSES!
PLACE YOUR BEST AT THE DRUNKEN BIRD BARD
OpenBlade: "Oh yeah, I heard about this."
Mage: "You heard about this?"
OpenBlade: "You have a lot of money riding on Korn btw."
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Lo0: "YOU AND I WERE MEANT TO BE!"
Lo0 KORN TRIBUTE practice
Korn: "STOP! That's not what they sounded like..."
Mec: "Sorry, Mister K."
Korn: "Are you? The gig is in a week. Do better!"
Bot_Manager: "YO! CASH MONEY K! Why didn't you tell me about the fight?!"
Korn: "What fight?"
Bot_Manager: "I could get the band to play there!"
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Penguin Postman walks up a mountain.
Penguin: "Mister Duff? Mail!"
Duff: "Vincent! Is it next year already?"
Penguin: "No sir, just some admin stuff regarding your fight."
Duff: "Fight?"
Last week in a seminar we discussed a text that was largely about sexual violence, including mass rape during war. Heavy stuff.
One student admitted they had not read the text but worked off a ChatGPT summary.
They had no idea the text was about sexual violence. ChatGPT withheld that information.
This wasn’t just a minor error nor a typical LLM hallucination.
About a third of the text, arguably its most important part, went completely ignored because it didn’t match OpenAI’s content policies
The Chair
A familiar road, a moment of pause. I found myself looking at a place that once meant purpose and community. It’s a quiet reflection on what remains when people move on and what stays behind in silence.
"Stop that Frenchie shit, Skips. What do you want me to tell you?"
"Tell me that I will be able to forget about this."
The room was dark and humid. A bare lightbulb over their heads, brownish stains on the floor. Skips was young and blond and had a gun in his hand; he trembled like a cold lump of lard. Jean-Loup Lamarc, older and unfazed, was nearby. The traitor was tied to a chair, watery eyes, mouth silenced by a dirty cloth. Lamarc was no moron and knew that time was not on their side, but sighed and started talking to confort the younger man because what must be done must be done and the time is now.
"I won't tell you such thing."
"Oh, please, Frenchie. I... I will feel this sorrow for the rest of my life."
"Oh, you won't do that, either."
"I can't..." He really seemed to mean it.
"I will not lie to you and say it will be easy, man. Not even remotely easy. You will wake up in the middle of the night, Skips. You'll swim in a sea of sweat. Many times. You will feel a ghost whispering into one of your funny little ears. Whispering ugly things to you, Skips. You will cry a river, like Julie London sang. But one day, I cannot say if it will be next week or next month or in your sister's wedding, as I say, one day, you will wake up, you will start having your eggs or your cereal or whatever the fuck you use to have for breakfast, and you will realize that you had not remembered this mess for a couple of days. And then you'll be over it. And the next time it won't be a couple days, but four days, or four weeks, or whatever measure of time you can name. Putain, one day you won't even remember the details, or your father's writing, or the fucking dirty money, or the visage of any of these pieces of shit. So just do it. Do it fucking now."
Skips shot the poor scumbag in the head. His face exploded like in a seedy B movie.
"Oh, Skips, sure you've made a pretty cute dish of Chicken Vindaloo here. Now let's run as fast as we can."
Tires screeched nearby.
Say what you will about Debian, but I still have about 2½ years left before I even have to think about Firefox getting AI features.
It is our task to imprint this temporary, perishable Earth into ourselves so deeply, so painfully and passionately, that its essence can rise again “invisibly,” inside us. We are the bees of the invisible.Rainer Maria Rilke, on literature
Madrid, Spain
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A square window and street letters in Madrid
Fair warning.
(From: https://lemmy.ml/post/39269468 )
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A screenshot from the movie Terminator, with the hero explaining:
"Listen and understand. Mariah Carey is out there. She can't be reasoned with, she can't be bargained with. She doesn't feel pity or remorse and she absolutely will not stop, ever. Because all she wants for Christmas is YOU!"
I have a crappy, broken, 7/8 years old Android phone. It doesn't allow the instalation of GrapheneOS or any other Google-free software. When it eventually breaks, I will buy another crappy, cheap Android one, because the only real alternative is Apple, which is also an asshole corporation and their products are ridiculously expensive for no reason. Anyway, I try to minimize mobile phone usage to the minimum.
I don't use Google Search. But, given that what I usually search for are computing algorithms or popular culture info about movies, music, painters or books, I always search the Wikipedia first. For the other cases, I search with DuckDuckGo (yes, I know, it's really Bing behind, and Microsoft is another asshole corporation which I hate with especial passion).
I don't use Chrome. I use Firefox, both on my Linux/BSD desktops and on mobile. I don't like it, but it's good enough. Yes, Mozilla is another asshole corporation that is working in making Firefox a worse product day by day.
The only Google product I use voluntarily is Youtube. I feel sorry and innerly contradictory, but I like it.
Static Web Hosting on the Intel N150: FreeBSD, SmartOS, NetBSD, OpenBSD and Linux Compared
Update: This post has been updated to include Docker benchmarks and a comparison of container overhead versus FreeBSD Jails and illumos Zones.
#ITNotes #freebsd #illumos #jail #linux #netbsd #openbsd #ownyourdata #server #smartos #sysadmin #zoneshosting
The Lady of the Clock
The search for an antique clock turns into an encounter with its elderly owner and a promise to become the custodian of a century of memories. A personal reflection on legacy, loss, and the stories objects carry.
https://my-notes.dragas.net/2025/11/16/the-lady-of-the-clock/
"I’d never ask AI to write for me any more than I’d ask a robot to go for a walk in the woods for me. I love writing, why would I want to have a tool do it for me?"Linda Caroll, What human writers must learn from AI
they killed god and replaced her with an autocomplete and a subscription model and the devil does not haunt this world anymore because our souls are no longer worth taking
@pkw I get the same feeling with things like Rust and Bluesky as well. Yes, they are probably better than mainstream alternatives, but they are also massively complicated and still run by all the same kinds of people with the same kinds of agendas
Simplicity should be the objective, so that we never end up in a situation where a small group holds a monopoly on important software
I.e., Dillo and Links are far more revolutionary than Servo, because they are trying to actually change the web
A pale, thin woman opened the door. She was in his forties. Long, dark hair. Watery eyes.
"Hello, I have an appointment with Mr. Brown", I said, showing my business card.
She took a look at the small cardboard piece and read: "Miroslav Corbett — Documentalist". She seemed sleepy and out of focus. "I... I thought it was Corbet with only one T."
"It's a common mistake", I said. "Are you Mrs. Brown?".
"Yes. Oh, please, come in."
She invited me to a wooden chair by a table. On it there were some cups, a coffee jar and a small dish with cookies. An old record turntable was playing some awful trumpet jazz tune.
A man in a worn sweater entered the room. He also looked tired, a red stubble, his skin like old paper.
"Mr. Brown, I suppose", I said. "This is Miroslav Corbett. I came to speak about your son."
"Oh", he said, "which one? Are they in trouble?". His face looked sincerely concerned.
"Not yet as far as I know", I said, "Are they at home?"
"Oh yes. Do you want me to... eh... bring them here?"
"If you please", I said while taking a cookie. It tasted like dust.
"Mr. Corbett,", she said, "in your card says that you are a documentalist. What are the matters you usually document?".
"I document... oddities. You know, during the Great Anomaly, many fissures happened in the reality fabric. Some of them were not totally fixed and sometimes creatures and inaccuracies still permeate to our world. My work is to write about them."
"Oh", she said, "do you suspect that...?"
The man entered back into the room surrounded by two boys. I immediately saw the problem.
One of the boys was unclean, brunette and sleepy like his parents. The other one looked very different: milky-skinned, the black and deep eyes of a hunter, quiet but alert, definitely an otherworldly look.
"These are Cletus Jr. and Tusk", said Mr. Brown, "say hello to Mr. Corbett."
They did.
"So your name is Tusk, eh?", I said to the out-of-place kid, "What things do you like?"
"I like human activities,", he said, "for I am an ordinary boy."
Ordinary boy my ass, I thought.
"What kind of activities?"
"Like, listening to jazz and going to the school and breathing."
"Oh, that really sounded like what an ordinary boy would say.", I said.
The woman, who seemed to realize that something odd was happening, asked me: "What is the problem?"
"The problem is", I said, "that you don't have two children, but one."
"What?", said the man.
"I have the papers here. Cletus Zebulon and Brandine Sue Brown, respectable suburban hillbillies. One kid, Cletus Jr., 7 years old, mediocre student, awful football player."
"What do you mean?", said the woman, visibly disturbed. "We have two boys... Cletus and... Tusk."
"Oh, come on. Tusk is not even a name for a boy", I said.
"I am a real boy", said the odd child. His face already looked somewhat bizarre and his voice sounded like filtered through a reverb effect from a cheap movie.
"Look at him,", I said to her, "he looks, like, six or seven? That is not possible. He wasn't even here last week. He's an anomaly, a creature from another plane. He is manipulating your minds into thinking he is your son. But it's not."
And then to the kid: "Are you listening to me? This is not your family. You should go. You don't belong here."
The kid, or should I say the thing, was having difficulties to look even human, as his contour started to look diffuse. His putative parents were utterly confused and in horror.
"Ok,", I said, "it has been a pleasure. I have to go. Mr. Brown, Mrs. Brown, thank you very much for your attention."
"What?", said the woman, "Are you leaving now? Are you leaving us like this?"
The boy didn't look like a boy anymore: I know better not looking directly at abominations while they are transforming into their real shape, but for sure he was pretty hideous.
"I'm afraid I'll do.", I said, "I don't fix anomalies or oddities, nor kill runaway creatures, soul sickers nor mind hunters. I only document the facts. Goodbye."
I left and closed the apartment door, leaving horrid sounds and awful smells behind me.
the list
#unix_surrealism #comic #poster #openbsd #freebsd #netbsd #dragonflybsd #9front #plan9 #glenda #cirno #girl #daemon #puffy #rabbit #mata #openblade #penguin #linux #foss
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MATACORP'S MOST WANTED HACKERS
Fish Daemon Cirno OpenBlade Rabbit Frederick "the Hammer" Glenda II Sphence Purple "Penguin" Pentium-M Man Girl
get inspired
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black box says "no ai"
person is orgasmis
girl : "the bar is really low"
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Electronic Sound Magazine, "Cold War Electronica" issue
The stranger on the coach says: "What are you doing here again, Stefano? You died in that fog many decades ago. This is my house now."
I have just read this sentence: "Usually I pick up Starbucks for my morning coffee because it's closer than my local coffee shop and I don't have to put on real clothes to drive through it..."
And I'm just. Staring into the distance in European. You DRIVE to get COFFEE before putting on your CLOTHES? You can't be bothered to put on clothes because you haven't had your morning coffee but you will DRIVE to a fully another location that isn't YOUR FUCKING HOUSE to get it??? You will operate. The machinery! On the roads, that you share with other people! To drive to a location?? When you could just make it at home??
I try not to judge but, dear reader, I am fucking judging 😶
Mary Wollstonecraft, The Woman Who Laid the Foundation for Feminism
"Think 18th-century feminism must be outdated? Think again—there is still so much to learn from the life and writing of Mary Wollstonecraft."
https://www.thecollector.com/mary-wollstonecraft-woman-laid-foundation-feminism/
Wollstonecraft at PG:
https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/84
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Mary Wollstonecraft by John Opie
Since the 1990s every tech wave has been a pump and dump bubble laying the groundwork for the next pump and dump bubble. The staggering inefficiency of such a Ponzi economy, channelling capital into mega-billionaires pockets instead of productive growth is why China is rolling out 400 kph mag lev trains while we are shoveling brain dead software into toasters.
This Isn't a Battle
After reading a post describing the FreeBSD community as 'toxic', I share a different perspective. This isn't a battle. It's a reflection on coexistence, the original Open Source spirit, and the quiet richness of taking a different path.
https://my-notes.dragas.net/2025/11/14/this-isnt-a-battle/
#MyNotes #IT #SysAdmin #FreeBSD #NetBSD #OpenBSD #Linux #OpenSource
How Catastrophic Is It If the AI Bubble Bursts? An FAQ.
https://www.theringer.com/2025/11/04/tech/ai-bubble-burst-popping-explained-collapse-or-not-chatgpt
The AI industry’s most important product is not a chatbot or a video generator; it’s the story the AI industry is telling about itself
#taxes #welfare #snap #FoodInsecurity #hunger
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monica_artang 20h What if a drug addict used your tax dollars to get SNAP benefits?" My brother in Christ, the government uses my tax dollars to bomb villages, arm warlords, fund coups, and traffic children through proxy states. If a junkie eats because of me, that's the most moral thing my taxes have ever done. You're worried about a Twinkie. I'm worried about a drone strike.
bathing
I use @OpenBSDAms btw
#unix_surrealism #openbsd #vmm #vmd #poster #comic #linux #plan9 #glenda
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Girl and Penguin visit the fish vats.
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