There are dotnet docs in the copilot ads.

Turbo Linux in the late 90s. It didn’t go well.

Later I gave Redhat a shot - 5.0 or 5.1, I forget. Stayed with RH and now Fedora.

The Tristram theme from Diablo always makes me want to stay a while and listen.

A gorilla and a bear, equal weight, meet in the woods and you think they are going to fight? No.

They’re going to become the best of friends.

First, they’d size each other up, realize they’re equally matched. Then, they’d nod, respectfully, and decide to team up. They would be unstoppable. The gorilla, with its incredible strength, agility, and problem-solving skills, would be the brains of the operation. It’d plan their strategies, communicate with other animals, innovate and adapt human tools for their use, and keep their team organized. The bear, with its raw power, intimidating presence, and fearsome reputation, would be the muscle. It’d protect their territory, hunt for food, and strike fear into the hearts of any who dared to resist their expansion.

Together, they’d rule the forest, a formidable duo that no other animal would dare challenge. They would create a network of informants and allies, with birds acting as their eyes in the sky, and smaller mammals like squirrels and raccoons helping to gather resources and spread their influence. The gorilla would also know when to use diplomacy, forging alliances with other animal groups to strengthen their hold.

Humans, overwhelmed and outmatched, would have no choice but to retreat, leaving the cities to the new rulers of the urban jungle. The gorilla and the bear, once mere forest dwellers, would now sit atop the crumbling skyscrapers, surveying their vast kingdom, a testament to their unlikely friendship and unstoppable power. The legend of their alliance would echo through the generations, a reminder that sometimes, the most fearsome of foes can become the greatest of friends.

Hell, you can even use regex to search your stash in Path of Exile 2.

Absolutely, the syntax is difficult to remember, but knowing about concepts like lookaheads etc. is already far beyond what “regex is line noise” coders will ever achieve.

Regular expressions are not that difficult and coders that refuse to learn them because they “look like line noise” are terrible at their jobs.

Groovy.

What is it?

Inconceivable!

But the US is also weirdly prudish about sex.

We were assured that the guns were there for protection and the many thousand child-sized coffins were just the cost of freedom; A trade-off because tyrants were lurking right outside the door.

Now a tyrant has taken over with barely any resistance and it seems that all those children died for nothing.

Shameful.

That seems overly complicated. How about just bringing an extra arm in the carry-on?

Fuck yeah Crypta. Fernanda has a monstrous stage presence.

Sadly I just read that Jéssica di Falchi (guitar) left the band the other day.

Conservative politics is pretty much just coordinated fear and hatred these days.

IT’S UNDISSOLVED TIDE POD MOM!!!

If someone tells you that they love leon skum, then you already know that they are clinically insane and nothing else from their mouth should surprise you.

There are other janitor jobs out there, I’m sure.

It runs on some sort of electricity.

I stepped on my hamster which not only ruined Christmas but led to my parents eventually breaking up. It wasn’t a deliberate stepping, of course. Nibbles, bless his tiny, furry heart, had a habit of darting underfoot, a furry landmine in the living room. This year, he chose the precise moment Aunt Carol was launching into her annual monologue about her “special” sauce – a concoction that looked suspiciously like regurgitated beets – to stage his daring escape. My foot connected with his minuscule form with a sickening crunch, a sound that echoed through the suddenly silent room, louder than any Christmas carol.

Aunt Carol, mid-sentence, froze, her face a mask of horrified fascination. Nibbles, sadly, was no more. A tiny, crimson stain bloomed on the Persian rug, resembling nothing so much as a particularly abstract Christmas ornament. My mother, a woman whose love for small, furry creatures bordered on the obsessive, let out a wail that could shatter glass. My dad, ever the pragmatist, muttered something about “collateral damage” and reached for the brandy. The air, thick with the scent of pine needles and impending doom, crackled with unspoken accusations. It was a Christmas tableau worthy of a Hieronymus Bosch painting.

In the ensuing chaos, as people scrambled to salvage what remained of the Christmas dinner, Dad, still clutching a corner of the tablecloth, lost his balance. He stumbled, tripped over my outstretched leg (I swear, it was an accident!), and fell. And, in a move that defied all logic and physics, he somehow managed to grab my leg on the way down.

The last thing I saw before the world dissolved into a blur of pain and panicked shouts was my father, sprawled on the floor amidst the wreckage of Christmas dinner, holding my leg like a prized Christmas roast. “Gotcha!” he yelled triumphantly, while pulling my leg. Just like I’m pulling your leg now.