i fucking love that this exact problem was solved until Reddit unsolved it by charging exorbitant API fees and effectively killed 3rd party apps and forced everyone onto their shitty app.

e n s h i t t i f i c a t i o n

And his wife?

Chinese will never be the official global language and I’ll give you 8,105 simplified reasons why…

public static void itWasJustADream(Person) 

Probably why Macron is in power and not Le Pen and the fascists.

maybe i’m a fool, but i think i might be able to do it…

no one wants this, but everyone is indoctrinated into writing it that way and changing it would be a herculean task, probably recommending the format via NIST, which probably requires a functioning government to adopt it on governmental websites and forms, so first we have to create one of those…

you dropped this: \

sudo chown user:user -R / will get me to reinstall.

For many recipes that call for sugar as a flavoring agent (as opposed to recipes that require it for structure like hard candy, toffee, peanut brittle, caramel or crunchy cookies, etc.) I find that I can halve the amount of sugar it calls for and it tastes fine to me…and I do like sweets. I’m starting to agree with GBBO that American recipes are far too sweet and just don’t need it, but to each their own.

HAS SCIENCE GONE TOO FAR!!! idk, i’m just bakin stuff i like man…

ftfy

Well, have I got some stories for you! It’s time for

FULLY AUTOMATED POST SCARCITY GAY SPACE ANARCHY!!!

That’s not the way they would track you. If you use the same email address for both accounts, a data broker on the back end will be able to connect them because you used the same email address. It’s not about the IP address. It’s about your identity. And if you’re like oh well I’ll just make a new email for each site, Gmail requires that you use a phone number to sign up. Most email providers do. So then they would just connect you by your phone number because you needed to use those on both email addresses. Privacy is nonexistent on the web. Mind you this happens because LinkedIn shares your data with “third-party partners and service providers”. There’s nothing that you can do to stop this.

it’s almost like the internet has allowed all kinds of extremists that would otherwise be alone in their extremism find each other in an echo chamber where they’re all “obviously correct” and that any action they choose to take is warranted and approved by their extremist community. with 8+ billion people in the world, of course you can find 1000 online that agree with you.

amateur detective teenager gang and their talking Great Dane?

What do you mean by “simulation”?

Simulation as in “the internet is not real and our computers somehow have everything already stored on them and there’s no data transfer happening across telco infrastructure” ?

(Because that’s easily disproven - you can message your friends and tell them to meet you somewhere, and when they meet you there, that proves data was moved from your device to their device. )

If that’s not what you mean, please explain (in detail) what you mean by “the entirety of the internet was a simulation”

To expand on this, current iOS version is 18.5 released 2 days ago.

I have never read Bleak House, nor do I even know the outline of the plot. This is what I’m getting from it:

LONDON. Michaelmas term lately over, and the Lord Chancellor sitting in Lincoln’s Inn Hall.

The scene is London. Michaelmas’ term (shift?) has just finished, and the Lord Chancellor is now sitting in Lincoln’s Inn Hall.

Implacable November weather.

The weather is cold, wet and overcast, as one would expect for November.

As much mud in the streets, as if the waters had but newly retired from the face of the earth, and it would not be wonderful to meet a Megalosaurus, forty feet long or so, waddling like an elephantine lizard up Holborn Hill.

The streets are incredibly muddy, as if the waters of the Biblical Flood of Noah had just receded. So muddy, one would not be surprised to find a giant amphibian frolicking in it up on Holborn Hill.

Smoke lowering down from chimney-pots, making a soft black drizzle with flakes of soot in it as big as full-grown snowflakes - gone into mourning, one might imagine, for the death of the sun.

Smoke drifts downward from the chimneys; soft black ash the size of snowflakes coats exposed surfaces. It’s as if everything is dressed in black to mourn the death of the Sun’s warmth and light.

Dogs, undistinguishable in mire. Horses, scarcely better; splashed to their very blinkers.

Dogs and horses are covered in the mud up to their eyeballs, and their owners can hardly tell which ones are theirs.

Foot passengers, jostling one another’s umbrellas, in a general infection of ill-temper, and losing their foot hold at street-corners, where tens of thousands of other foot passengers have been slipping and sliding since the day broke (if this day ever broke), adding new deposits to the crust upon crust of mud, sticking at those points tenaciously to the pavement, and accumulating at compound interest.

Pedestrians fight through the crowded street, their umbrellas bumping into each other, like a seething angry mob. They slip and lose traction at street corners, like the thousands of pedestrians that came before them since the day broke (although “daybreak” is a meaningless term for a day as grey and cloudy as this one.) The mud continues to cake on their boots where the pavement ends, as if the mud was somehow multiplying like money in a rich man’s investment account.