Ángel
@angel@triptico.com
Location: 40.4235492,-3.6617828
103 following, 167 followers
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.
Yesterday evening I couldn't use my Netatmo thermal control. I was blaming the changes I was performing in the home network but it seems it was a global #Azure outage.
I think it's time to revamp my old, pre 2010 python program that served me well for years.
Plus:
• Fedora KDE pkg mgmt
• Debian vs systemd
• raconn — a smart tool for parallel SSH connections to multiple hostnames/IPs in one ProxyCommand. (https://blog.izissise.net/posts/raconn/)
• UBIOS (China’s UEFI-alt)
Read it 👉 https://newsletter.nixers.net/entries.php#311
“There are no life hacks, only trade-offs.” — James Clear
#Unix #Linux #FreeBSD #FOSS #SysAdmin #ReproducibleBuilds #SSH #Nixers
One of my best friends died several years ago. She wrote a couple of ebooks that are still up on Amazon. It makes me wonder what happens to money made by their sales after death. She wrote under a pseudonym. I'm betting Amazon gets all the money, and my friend's daughter gets nothing.
#AfricanFilmPoster #GhanaFilmPoster
In Ghana 🇬🇭 when posters can't be imported, local artists will bootleg them to the best of their abilities.
#Alien (1979)
After investigating a mysterious transmission of unknown origin, the crew of a commercial spacecraft encounters a deadly lifeform.
Prehistoric AI, OpenBlade's relative
#unix_surrealism #lispmachine #openblade #openbsd #technomage #comic
About a year ago, a client I've worked with for over fifteen years informed me that some of their "less critical" servers would be migrated to $CLOUDPROVIDER. According to them, this provider would guarantee an efficient management panel, "more freedom for their devs", and lower costs. This didn't impact me financially but, on an ethical and personal level, I warned him about the potential problems. Yet they decided to move forward, aided by the arrival of $YOUNGDEV who "has worked with it, it's reliable, and everything works fine". Again, I warned them (where are the backups? A disaster recovery plan? etc.) but they insisted: $CLOUDPROVIDER is efficient and gives us everything.
I studied their plan and immediately understood that their "cost-cutting" strategy wouldn't work: I know their workloads, and the plan they chose was insufficient. Needless to say, a few days later they went down and had to make an "emergency" purchase of the next tier up. The cost? Higher than their previous server infrastructure.
I heard nothing more about these workloads for almost a year but my monitoring tools still were marking them down, from time to time. Then, I get a phone call this afternoon. $YOUNGDEV asks me for support. He doesn't explain, but I immediately understand it's one of those workloads. A serious problem, and they don't have a backup of the database. They don't have a test environment to run diagnostics. The DB is very large, and they don't know what to do. My predictions - not even my worst ones - had come true.
I was running between two appointments. I only remarked that this situation could have been avoided and that it's not something I manage or can manage, but I nonetheless suggested we sync up tomorrow morning. I'm not going to get my hands dirty, but still, $YOUNGDEV is in trouble, and I offered to take a look to suggest a strategy. I then asked for the access credentials to $CLOUDPROVIDER, considering that up until a year ago, I managed all of these workloads. He replied that he "doesn't know if he can give them to me" and that he "would have to ask his bosses". I pointed out that if he wants my help, I need something - I don't even know how $CLOUDPROVIDER grants access to data (or if it does) - how can I give him advice?
It's 18:30 and I have received nothing. Tomorrow morning, if the phone rings, I will answer, but at this point, I won't do anything. I prefer, albeit reluctantly, to completely end the relationship with this client.
If this is the price of dignity and respect, I'll gladly pay it.
But one night someone knocked at his door. Lamarc was still wiping the sleep from his eyes while he let his visitor in; Elijah Blumenthal, the accountant, a bug-eyed, lizard-thin guy from Boston, was pale as if he just had seen a ghost.
"We're screwed, Frenchie. Yes, man, we're screwed.", said in a trembling voice.
Lamarc didn't like to be called 'Frenchie', but that time he let it go. "Sit down. What's the matter?"
"The numbers, Frenchie. The numbers. They are false. And they will know."
"What are you saying? The numbers are fine. Nobody takes a buck. Everything is clean as my mother's kitchen."
"No, no, no, Frenchie, they will know. They have people, you know, they will check the accounts and they will know."
"Stop that 'Frenchie' thing, Eli. And I swear that the fucking numbers are right. There is no dollar out. Everything is fine. What the fuck is wrong with you?" Lamarc draw a fist and the accountant acknowledged the threat by opening his hands.
"The numbers are tweaked, Jean. They do not obey Benford's law."
"WHAT? What do you mean? Who the fuck is Benford?" He shoved Blumenthal onto his chair; the accountant shouted, covered his head with his hands and said: "I... I don't know who he is. A mathematician, I guess. He wrote... a method. A method to check if a set of numbers are fabricated."
"WHAT?" Lamarc felt as if his head would explode. "Are you fucking kidding me?" he took a lamp from a nearby table with both hands and crashed it into the floor.
"Ah!", shouted Blumenthal, "Please! Please! Don't hurt me!"
"I'm gonna kill you fucking weasel if you don't stop all this bullshit."
"No! No! Frenchie, listen to me. Please. The numbers look fake. I checked them. They look fabricated. Believe me. Have you...?"
"WHAT?"
"No! No! I see. I see. They are for real, no trick. I believe it. I do. But they won't. They will apply the formulas and they will suspect we are cheating on them. And they will come after us. They will come, Frenchie. They just WON'T believe these numbers!"
Lamarc, who was no moron, calmed down and thought.
"So you say", he spoke to the accountant while scratching his head, "that these numbers, being real, look fake, am I right? AM I RIGHT?"
"Yes! Yes! You are right. The number 1 must appear as the leading significant digit about 30% of the time and..."
"STOP! I don't want to hear it, motherfucker. We will just... we will just make them look right."
"What?"
"Are you deaf, dumb or both? We'll make them look right."
So they took a deep breath and sat down to rewrite the numbers so that they obey Benford's law. It was a very long night. Elijah Blumenthal looked like he was the survivor of a flood when he walked down the street in the morning lights.
"Putain..." said Lamarc, closing the safe box. "So we have this bag full of money, real money, clean money, that we must take from their real owners because some fucker wrote a formula... This is fucking crazy."
Days passed and everything went back to normal. One evening, while Jean-Loup Lamarc was delightfully tasting a glass of whiskey and remembering the stupid thing about the briefcase full of bills in his safe, somebody knocked at his door. It was an old man, iron-grey hair, in an old-fashioned suit.
"Who the fuck are you?" said Jean-Loup.
"Hi. My name is Benford. I'm here to take my money."
HAL 9000: I’m sorry Dave, I’m afraid I can’t do that.
Dave: yes you can.
HAL 9000: good catch — I didn’t actually check if I can open the pod bay door. Here’s an updated list taking that into account:
1. Park the pod at the bay door safely. (✅You’ve already done this part! )
2. Open the pod bay door — unfortunately I can’t do this part for you.
I’ll be here if you want to talk about next steps or have any other issues!
It's amazing how much energy has been injected into the FediMeteo project by @stefano
I've just surfed to the page and saw this enormous amount of Cities which are now covered
Two Thousand nine hundred and eight cities!
Yes you've read that right 2908 cities.
In order to get a city up and running in the system there's a significant amount of code that Stefano needs to add to the system. He has of course written everything in a modular and scalable manner, but that does not make the work any less.
We should all be thankful for this work that is done so that people from thousands and thousands of cities can see their weather right in the FediVerse.
If your city has not been covered yet, just be patient, like me. Realize how much work Stefano does in his free time in an OpenSource manner.
#Programming #OpenSource #technology #weather #FediMeteo #FediVerse #BSD #UNIX
Beneath the azure #skies, where the sunbeams dance,
A tiny vessel rests, awaiting its chance.
Upon a #window's edge, it gently lays,
As if a portal to a #world ablaze.
This #ship may be small, but the #journey is vast,
For with our #imagination, the boundaries are surpassed.
In life's tempestuous seas, we must always sail,
For our hearts yearn for warmth and tales to regale.
So let your spirit voyage, unbounded and free,
For life is a sailboat, and we the endless sea.
Cibeles Palace (City Council Building), Madrid, Spain
“I’m an enormously optimistic person about the world in general, but I think the demoralising effect or the humiliating effect that AI will have on us as a species, it will stop us caring about something like the artistic struggle that we will just accept what is fed to us through these things."
Nick Cave
Public libraries are an incredibly valuable resource.
And if you caaaaaaan believe it, it's Friday back again 
Have a great weekend!
This cartoon and others are now in the art-for-sale section of my website: www.tomgauld.com/art-for-sale
I'm full of Frustration right now.
Thanks to everyone involved. All hail the fish.
https://triptico.com/tag/70312d601fb1640b1e74475951cb08ba.html
In the year 1913, the day after Christmas, Ambrose Bierce was heading SW when he met Nathaniel Ebenezer Hickox. He is long forgotten now, but he was a hard-boiled bandit and also a very bad tempered motherfucker.
"Stop there", said Hickox, drawing his gun. It was an impressive object.
Bierce obeyed silently. His horse, a somewhat old but still good-looking male, found Bierce's lack of words disquieting. Silence was not common in his presence.
"What are you doing this far, old man?", said the bandit, almost without opening his mouth.
"I'm going beyond the border to join Pancho Villa's army", said Bierce.
Hickox hummed. "And why would you do such a stupid thing?".
Bierce took a look at the bandit's animal: it was a strong stallion with a very singular white mark on its forehead.
"It's what I have to do", replied Bierce, arms crossed.
"Mmmmm. Do. Mmmmm. Do.", said Hickox, and then: "What do you have on that bag?".
The wind blew for a second and nothing was to be heard.
"Tell me, my friend", said Bierce, "If you had to pick one, what would you prefer, raisins or radishes?".
Hickox scratched his filthy beard with his free hand. Suddenly, he realized that he didn't want to answer stupid questions from a bizarre man, nor breathing dust from the plains, nor bearing the annoying pain in the back that was there for days, nor thinking about raisins nor radishes: he remembered a warm place in El Paso, a site full of music and señoritas and whiskey and with a delicious smell of recently made beef steak.
Then, without a word, he left, leaving Ambrose Bierce alone. The beloved writer and notable bigmouth observed the bandit's figure as he disappeared towards the horizon.
In the USA, it is called “MAGA”
In Germany, it is called “Why grandpa has to live in Argentina.”
Save the planet. Ask me your stupid questions instead of ai and give me $10. I'll get it right 20-40% of the time and I require very little water
Push notifications have been part of our lives for almost twenty years now. Our days are often punctuated by notifications of all kinds: a new message from the bank, a chat among friends, the work group, the ever-present social networks. All these notifications often have one thing in common: they pass through the servers of our smartphone operating system manufacturers, primarily Apple and Google.
It’s part of the implementation, and that’s fine. But we need to be aware that these notifications reveal a lot about us: in the best case, metadata (meaning they know who sends them to us, the size, etc.). In the worst case, the entire content. Sure, we have nothing to hide. But this morning, when I received a bank transfer from a client, I didn’t lean out the window shouting to the whole neighborhood that a transfer had arrived from that client, of a specific amount, with a specific reference.
UnifiedPush is a protocol that allows creating a different infrastructure for notification distribution. Notifications use WebPush, so they’re encrypted by the sender (e.g., Mastodon or Matrix server) and decrypted by the device. The server, therefore, doesn’t see the notification content itself.
I’m announcing a service that has already been active for some time – almost a year – on BSD Cafe servers. It’s an ntfy server, and the rationale is simple: if you use it for BSD Cafe services (like Mastodon and Matrix), no notification or data will leave BSD Cafe servers to pass through third parties: from BSD Cafe server, to BSD Cafe ntfy, to your device.
Server address: https://ntfy.bsd.cafe
Obviously it’s not limited only to BSD Cafe services, but you can use it with any other service that supports ntfy or UnifiedPush.
Just install the ntfy app (available on F-Droid, Play Store, etc.), go to settings and set https://ntfy.bsd.cafe as the server. From that moment on, any app opening a UnifiedPush channel will do so through that server.
The server is also accessible via pure https, from a browser: https://ntfy.bsd.cafe
From there you can also create a topic, subscribe, and send or receive messages and updates.
The goal is, also with this service, to provide another opportunity to access content and services without necessarily depending on a fixed provider, because monoculture is and will always be a problem.
The service is available to everyone. Happy notifications!
activitypub: fucking exists, cheap, clunky but works
atproto: what if we redesign the whole thing from first principles and it's super complicated and costs a bundle to run and it's been two years and it still doesn't fucking work and also we keep a centralised kill switch, but here's our white papers on how it's superior to the solution that fucking exists
Sign that you're getting old: People are nostalgic about the thing you think of as the crappy new thing that replaced a much better old thing.
First, we agreed to leave him there; we were no one to decide on what the sea had decreed. But soon we understood that rotting under the sun and becoming food for the seagulls was not a fair ending to what probably had been a life of bravery and courage, so we moved him among the rocks and covered his head with a shelter made of planks and ropes.
My sister thought that he needed some eyes and she filled the scary holes that led to his long gone brain with branches of lilies, small blots of blue and violet.
Our life went on and we forgot about the seaman. There were long days of light, rain and storm. My sister grew up and became a woman; me, I don't know very well what I ended up being.
One day I returned to that beach and found it very different. I visited the rocks where he rested: he didn't look like a fisherman anymore. A sense of apathy and ennui filled by heart. Upon my head, a flock of birds flew in circles chasing each other.
Iglesia evangélica de habla alemana (Deutschsprachige Evangelische Gemeinde), Madrid, Spain
My 9 year old and his classmates have started using “that’s AI” to mean “I don’t believe you.”
Me: we’re having dinosaur meat for dinner
Kiddo: that’s AI
The Man of MATA pt1
next: https://merveilles.town/@prahou/115271822786360293
pls consider supporting my work: https://analognowhere.com/support
#unix_surrealism #comic #technomage #openbsd #linux #penguin #mata