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Search - "fear of the dark"
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OMFG
Waking up in the middle of the night to a strange feeling in my ear and noises. Started shaking the head, which did nothing except panicking because of intensifying scratch noises in my head.
Getting the fear to be eaten inside out.
Get the phone and call sister to get me to the doc but her phone is powered off. Starting to Google "consequences of an cockroach in your ear", reading this is not as bad as I thought and that some people do not even realize it !??
Laying down for 3 minutes in the dark, *heating up and feeling my pulse* hoping it will crawl out. Which obviously did not fucking happened, this sucker just squatted my ear.
So I go to the bathroom and start filling up the tub. While it is filling up, I Google "how to get cockroach out of your ear". Finding an article that you should pour oil in your ear to suffocate the squatter. So I go to the kitchen, grab my sunflower oil, go to the mirror and start pouring. I am starting to shine like a bodybuilder and hear the noises again. After what felt like an eternity, I hear even more scratching in my head, this is the moment I do half a headbang and *wush* *flap* something hit the ground. I look down in the hope it wasn't just the sunflower oil and see this little thing which is clearly a cockroach. I am fucking relieved, not hearing any noises anymore.27 -
In the begining of time, when The Company was small and The Data could fit in some fucking excel sheets, Those Who Came Before implemented some java tool to issue invoices, notify customers and clear received payments.
Then came the Time Of The Great Expanse, when The Company grew to unthinkable levels. Headcount increased with each passing day, and The Data shows that everything was going great!
But when the future seemed bright, came The Stall-Out. The days when The Company could not expand as fast as it did before. And Those Who Came Before left, abandoning their Undocumented Java Tool to its own luck.
Those who came after knew nothing of the inner workings of the Undocumented Java Tool. They knew only that the magical Jar would take a couple fucking excel spreadsheets and spit out reports and send emails like magic.
And those were The Dark Days.
In the darkness, The Data grew to be a monster. Soon a fucking excel spreadsheet could not hold The Data contained any longer. Those Who Came After, fearing the wrath of The Undocumented Java Tool, dared not mess with its code. Instead, they fucking cut away the lowest volume transactions from the fucking input spreadsheet, and left the company to report the unbilled invoices as "surprise losses". Fucking script kiddies, were Those Who Came After.
Then, at The Darkest of Days (literally, Dec 21st), marched into the project The Six Witchers, who fear not the Demon of Refactoring.
This story is still unfolding. Will The Six Witchers manage to unravel the mysteries of The Undocumented Java Tool? Will they be able to reverse engineer the fucking black box, and scale it's magic into a modern application?
Will they decrease revenue forecasting error by at least 2% in a single strike?
Only the future will tell.16 -
The state of the web in 2020:
discussion sites as a medium are dying. chalk that up to censorship.
reddit is an echochamber. twitter is mostly a marketing platform disguised as (anti)social media. instagram is a self promotion/wannabe eceleb site, and youtube is the new hollywood..quickly becoming irrelevant.
facebook is where I (dont) go to (totally not) ignore all the people important to me.
and email is where I go to send letters bordering on hatespeech to my various local and federal "representatives", in between borderline cyberbullying people stupid enough not to automate their spam marketing in 2020. or talking to left/right self-help grifters about the state of society.
in the grim dark future of 2020, the last bastion of intelligent conversation, free speech, and civility, the one shining icon of hope in a dark world..
is the comment section of pornhub videos where a women got stuck under a bed for the 50,000th time. And all I can think is "wow I never knew how easy it was to get trapped under a bed. They should look into fixing this safety hazard."
newsmedia has jumped so many sharks, the fonz now spins in his grave so fast we could hook him up to a generator. meanwhile people hide in their homes for a disease so deadly you have to be tested to know if you even have it.
while ever more car commercials
are released, set to somber but hopeful piano music to the tune of "in this time of social distancing its important to stay close even when we're apart."
Im beginning to think media has become a poison on society, both television and the internet, and like an ersatz cargo cultist worshipping the great-charles- manson-in-the-sky we should all take a page from the unabomber and smash our televisions with hammers before going outside and sawing down the telephone polls.
I jest of course. But there is no denying the inherent appeal of moving from the unsettling uncertainty of complex societies, driven by expertly manipulated fear cycles, to the beatitude-esque simplicty of pastoral protestant style living, sans witch burning and shoe buckles.
And against the reckoning of utopians who are still fresh from the womb as it were, wet behind the ears and smelling of their mother's pussy, I reject the notion that "up" is a synonym for "forward."
Were it the case, every drinking binge, followed by throwing up, would bring us, with each vomitting, one step closer to heaven. Rather the state of affairs is what it is, and what it is, like most of nature, is a cruel master and a harsh teacher. And while we may binge on digital delusions of grandeur and a greater society, rest easy in the nihilistic and sobering thought that we are little more than 200,000 year old cave men wielding magic bricks, and atomic bombs.
..where water flows more readily from metal tubes in our houses than it does from the nile. where food comes to our door at little more than our beck and call.
where we may bath, and sleep, and *shit*, cleanly, comfortably, and safely, wrapped in the (failing) bubble of delusion we all tenaciously grasp collectively, the thing we call "civilization".
an empire of needful things, wanton and fragile.
if we have not gone mad from boredom, I have no doubt we one day will.
it becomes more and more obvious to me every day, had war never existed, it would have been necessary for man to invent it just to have something to do, that didnt include farming, fucking, or building.
And so enters "political idealogy."
How would we ever have enemies if we were allowed to speak our piece instead of being given the means (and reflex dogwhistle training) to silence and destroy one another?
give a man a gun, he'll rob a bank. give a man a bank, he'll rob the world.
give him a media empire or a tech platform, and he'll lie about the theft and convince one half of millions of lemmings to hate all the other lemmings.11 -
Fear.
Fear rules the world.
Why coercion? Because control. Why control? Because it gives better chances of survival. Why survival? Because fear of death is hardwired into us.
Why greed? Because money. Why money? Because wen day is dark, you need money to pay your way out. If you lose your job, you’ll still have money. It’s fear yet again.10 -
We use MDD!! I coined this term one night after getting frustrated and having a lot of drinks. What's that, you ask?
MAGIC DRIVEN DEVELOPMENT
It's when you're working on a not-so-recent code base and are afraid to make any changes in fear of breaking things up. You've touched some modules, and now you restrict yourself to work only on those treating all others as a blackbox. Even if something can be achieved by a small change in one of the blackboxes, you still go for multiple changes in the modules you're familiar with! Such is the horror. You start saying that those modules work by some dark magic that nobody understands! -
I feel like time is short.
Things about to get real.
Make sure essentials are stocked.
Stay away from DC.
Get right with whatever you believe in.
Help your neighbor.
I don't have a magic ball.
I don't know if things will be good or bad.
But change is upon on.
Ready or not.
I pray to God he forgives us.
I wish the hardest thing in life was writing code.
I wish the world I was taught about when I was young was the real world.
Maybe if things go well it could be.
Look up, pray, and realize you are not alone.
I shall not fear the dark of night,
nor the arrow that flies by day.
Cheers!2 -
Ah, yes, the ages old dilemma of a piece of shit function written in-between taking long drags out of a fucking crackpipe being more reliable than the refactored version; how delightful.
Now, they say broken code from cleanup of sketchy bits is better than any working snippet whose reading feels as pleasant as being repeatedly slapped with a decaying rhinoceros testicle sack, but I'll be fucked if I don't __sometimes__ feel like I just *might* prefer eating the maggot soup out of the rotting fucking gonads of deceased male pachydermata than deal with this kind of shit: feet facing backwards and all that.
Ugh. If only I could live my life without everyday feeling like I'm on a pointless quest to slay a mother fucking dragon, where everytime I get to the castle I'm suddenly a mustachioed italian plumber stepping on turtles and my bitch is in another sicillian ghetto. You know, basic shit.
The good thing in seeing these old errors pop up again after my shoddy bandaid of a patch is taken off is that I'm finally experienced enough to realize that my ~ A P P R O A C H ~ was wrong to beg with. And this is VERY nice, because I came in to do some trivial maintenance of forgotten code, and now I have a plan for correcting a very small and silly but definitively annoying as fuck design error.
Why am I so annoyed then? Because it's more and more work, it never fucking ends, and I can't EVER take a break: with apocalypsis incoming, as we have clearly seen in the stars, tea cups, palm readings, crytal balls, ouija boards, and also in the cover of old-school pornographic magazines nailed to the wall of a defunct newspaper kiosk, the fear of economic collapse is somewhat too real to even THINK about any kind of necessary vacation.
And so: fucking shit, here we go again... TIME FOR MORE COFFEE.
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which type are you ??
**Manager:** Hey, we've got a little hiccup in the production environment. I know it's Friday evening and you're probably daydreaming about pizza, but could you give it a peek?
**Type 1:** Man, this is like finding a needle in a haystack while wearing sunglasses at night. Might take me a few hours... or days. But hey, wish me luck and have an epic weekend!
**Type 2:** Eureka! Found the gremlin. It looks like XYZ person tried to be a bit too creative on commit number 2234324. Maybe they had too much caffeine? Anyway, could you have a chat with them? And oh, may your weekend be as smooth as a fresh jar of peanut butter.
**Type 3:** Detective mode activated! Found the sneaky bug. It was XYZ person's "masterpiece" in commit number 2234324. But fear not! I've put on my superhero cape and fixed it in commit number 345453345.
**Type 4:** This issue again? It's like a recurring bad dream about forgetting your pants! I've revamped the whole thing so we don't have to relive this nightmare. If someone tries to pull this off again, our CI/CD will roast them like a marshmallow over a campfire.
**Type 5:** Ta-da! Fixed the glitch, jazzed up the design, and sprinkled in some extra logging magic. Now, troubleshooting will be as easy as pie. Speaking of which, I've got time for a coffee and maybe a slice of pie before heading out. Cheers!
Type 6 **Gloomy**: Oh, the digital clouds have gathered again. This issue is like a never-ending rain on a Monday morning. I've peered into the abyss of our code, and it's... well, it's deep and dark. I'll need some time, a flashlight, and maybe a comforting blanket. If you don't hear from me in a few hours, send in a search party with some hot cocoa.4