Ángel
@angel@triptico.com
Location: 40.4235492,-3.6617828
100 following, 215 followers
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
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
CC: @chebra@mstdn.io
Esta chica, salida de la nada, se erige en una especie de "justiciera" y decide que se salta lo que los autores han decidido que es su (equivocado o no) medio de subsistencia.
Pero bueno, allá cada cual.
Pero así, sin saber más, solo son conjeturas.
This has got to be one of the best. In Wales, UK, there is a legal requirement for road signs to be in both English and Welsh. So, in this case, the official of the Highways department emailed the English wording to the translator and, after receiving a reply, proceeded to have the sign made and installed.
Unfortunately, a few weeks later, Welsh-speaking drivers began to call up to point out that the Welsh reads..... "I am currently out of the office. Please submit any work to the translation team."
Ahora también en los idiomas euskera, gallego y castellano, entre otros, más los que están en preparación.
De hipo- y -ónimo.Fuente: Palabra del día del diccionario de la lengua española (RAE)
1. 1. m. Ling. Palabra cuyo significado incluye el de otra. Gorrión es hipónimo de pájaro.
npm was a mistake. the concept of pulling live dependencies that are not collectively managed by a QA team but each individually managed by many thousands of people with wildly varying skill and availability is inherently doomed to constant incidents.
Ken Thompson, 1984: Whenever you use other people's software, you should think about why you trust it.
npm, 2010: LEEEEROY JENKINNNNNSSSSSSS!
https://krebsonsecurity.com/2025/09/self-replicating-worm-hits-180-software-packages/
The traveler no longer knows where he goes nor where he comes from. He has brief glimpses, yes he does, but they are more and more blurry every time; all is like a mesh of milky lines, pale lights, paths to destinations that have no meaning to him. Sometimes a kid asks him what does he do: "I travel", he says, faking a smile while his eyes try to fix a point and fail.
His life is a hollow pit of departures; here, there, anywhere. He tries to recall his past but a curtain of headache lies in front of it: he barely remembers a loving mother, a cozy blanket, a puppy gone too early.
But soon the traveler is back again in endless corridors, all similar, all white, all convergent to a hub that links to another. He only hopes for one trip more, the one that finally erases him from existence, because he is starting to feel like he's slowly disappearing, mirrors not bothering to reflect his wasted image anymore. "Only one trip more", says to himself while trying to breathe an air thick as mud, blinded by light, almost defeated.
Girls, don't cry over Louie,Vaya Con Dios, Don't cry for Louie
He wouldn't waste a tear on you
The internet never forgets. Your "brilliant" mistakes will come back to bite you in the ass, even after you’re dead.
https://www.snopes.com/fact-check/charlie-kirk-gun-deaths-quote/
Y una vez que lo tengas en el dispositivo intenta abrirlo desde el administrador de archivos o desde los ajustes.
@dangillmor
No.
So much no.
These people are asking us to judge the AT protocol on its own merits, entirely divorced from Blue Sky, the company founded and funded by fascists. These are the "keep politics out of tech" people who wan to believe that any tech can be apolitical.
Blue Sky must be destroyed.
As for the purportedly-apolitical and untainted AT protocol, I must again refer to the sage Jules Winnfield: "Sewer rat may taste like pumpkin pie, but I'll never know."
https://thenewstack.io/unix-co-creator-brian-kernighan-on-rust-distros-and-nixos/
I guess Another Man's Woman is also crying now.