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Search - "grandpa"
Friends Pandemic December proposal: "We should all get on Zoom every weekend, play Christmas trivia games and do shots"
Family ideal Pandemic December: "Lets send each other Secret Santa presents throughout the whole month, and get on Zoom and unpack them"
Me: Chilled out on a reclining seat next to a freshly slaughtered green fir tree, burning hearth fire, warm wool sweater, faux fur slippers, big mug of liquored up hot chocolate, keyboard on my lap, writing a Rust library on big screen TV.
Sorry friends & family, y'all are doing holidays wrong.
-- signed, Grandpa Bittersweet.12
I know a guy who writes everything in Haskell.
He writes backend AND frontend in Haskell and uses some kind of JRPC stuff to manage all that. He told me that his life is a pure heaven. He IS RELEVANT (!!!!!!), his apps always run without bugs (because in Haskell you can mathematically prove that there are no bugs), they are performant, faster than C (because you can't write a complex enough app in C that will be as efficient as compiled Haskell, because it's you vs compiler). He doesn't have any problems in life whatsoever. He never got burned out, he never got anxiety or depression. He doesn't act pretentiously and stuff, he's just a normal person who rarely even mentions that he can program.
Science says it can't be done! You can't only know Haskell and be a relevant software engineer! You know what, he didn't _know_ it was impossible. He's like that grandpa from a meme, he got Alzheimers, but because of it he forgot that he had Alzheimers, and now remembers everything.
The fun thing is that he looks like a typical gopnik, with adidas suits and stuff.
What a gem of a person.26
My grandpa is using his computer for video editing and creating photo books. His setup was:
- A 100GB SSD for C
- A 1TB HD for D
He never had more than 6GB free on his C Drive because somehow Windows and his programs filled it all with some utter bullshit which couldn't be removed or whatever.
So I promised him to install Linux for his Emails and Surfing and create a Windows 10 VM for him to use his programs.
The Linux installation from downloading a iso over creating a bootable drive to actually installing it was faster than finding the fucking Windows 10 Iso.
Which was about the same time as installing fucking windows because this bullshit prints out one fucking line at a time and then waits for you to read it for 15 motherfucking seconds before printing the next line.
And don't get me started on the fucking telemetry.18
Fucking Android 12 everybody hate it, it's ugly, and what has changed from 11 besides everything you already know. 90% of time pressing volume down + power to take a screen shot will result with volume bar popup first then screenshot, so your screenshot is dirty with volume bar.
They must have adjusted time threshold between how fast/precise press of both buttons is, and now you kind of must be faster and alwas this "I need to press 2 buttons but power must be pressed first"
So fuck you google engineers for ruining Android in every sense. I want revert path, I'm going back to 11!!
It's a first major upgrade that is worse than previous, and those ugly tiles and notifications, cool they are big for what exactly? I still can't operate the phone with hand gloves on the motorcycle with tiny keyboard buttons.
It's like everything is tiny and then grandpa style huge top drawer icons for who knows what with so fucking annoying scrolling text, for fuck sake 11 had is just perfect!5
That rabbit in my grandpa's left table drawer, in the home I grew at. I wanted to finally catch it, and kill it. I was bad with animals all along, especially this one. My grandpa died the year before I was born, and my grandma said we would've got along really well. So much to talk about, a scientist to an engineer. So, I travelled back, but my home somehow turned from a city stone-walled house into a half-soaked, decaying wooden one. I caught that rabbit though, but while I was holding it at its neck and twisting it, it somehow disappeared, distributed evenly as if I were twisting a crayon. I was trying to find it, but in that left drawer, among century-old pencils and that red liquid thermometer I played with as a kid, only a faded out, dusty duckling resided. I picked it up, and unlike the rabbit, it was paper, no, cigarette paper thin. It wasn't hostile. It wasn't trying to run away. It just turned from yellow to grey, feathers leaving my fingers covered in fine dust. I realized it will never die, dwelling and decaying there forever, happy.
I did my calculations, and I knew for a fact when and where the rabbit should've appeared. It was the middle drawer, not the left one. I opened it and looked in anticipation how something chewed through the bottom. I caught it, but it was no rabbit, it was an alive, rubber rat. The rubber was white turned grey, old, aged, dusty, probably Soviet. I poked the rat's eye with a pen rod, but the rat's body inflated a bit, leaving it invincible. It was mocking me.
Of the same white rubber, a ball appeared. I knew for a fact it was alive too, I felt the bones inside holding it. I found its lips, and was prying it open. The massive, dry mouth emerged, with a full set of human teeth, albeit wider and nastier ones. Huge eyes looked at me. It was alive, it was intelligent. It was my grandpa's personal financial assistant all along. It told me to leave the rat and the rabbit alone. He told me not to worry about the ducking, as it was in safe hands.
It made friends with my brother during the "blue age", when he was wearing thin, worn out rugs instead of clothes, tiny faded blue flowers on them, screaming and annoying my grandma he lived with in that room, not a single person other than the two in sight. The house was slowly submerging. The water was rising.2