A very long time ago, and much less technologically advanced:
I went to boarding school. We had a little bit of a propensity for sneaking out of the dorm at night.
New dean comes in our senior year and installs alarms on all the exits.
Our senior year time capsule contains the controlling keypad to that alarm system that wasn’t even functional for twenty four hours.
I’ve no doubt that today’s teens possess the ingenuity to bypass if not completely disable this thing.
I’d wager that his lease has a mandatory arbitration clause that requires him to pay up front then try to get it back via arbiters chosen by the landlord.
This goes through high school now? Granted it’s been quite a few years, but as a child of the ultra 'murka fuck yeah Reagan years, I can’t remember having to say the pledge after elementary school.
Raised my daughter in Texas, and they expected the pledge AND the Texas State pledge. She considered that absurd at a very young age and I think she just stayed silent. But even then, I don’t recall her mentioning it after elementary school.
That’s why you make suckling baby farms. Way more tender than their pork counterparts.
They’ll make you listen to Vogon poetry. If your head explodes, you’re not a bot.
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I’ve been on a jury once. In that particular case, there were a couple jurors who took it upon themselves to police anybody bringing up anything that we were instructed to disregard. You may not think twelve people is a lot, but I’m my experience, it was twelve wildly different personalities which was frustrating, but ultimately beneficial in coming to a unanimous decision.
Further, they sent us out of the courtroom several times during the trial so opposing counsels could fight over what could and couldn’t be entered into evidence for us to see.
Just looked through some of that stuff. Holy hell, it would be easier to be seen as without sin through the eyes of an angry old testament God than it would be to be seen as worthy of dating from that crowd. And that’s fine, because I would want less than zero to do with it.
(Assuming it’s real. Who knows? Could be a bunch of neckbeards cosplaying, but if I’ve learned anything in life, it’s that there are shitty shitty men in this world, and that there are equally shitty shitty women in this world)
I spent several months last year actively looking for a therapist. I’m not talking a single casual Google search and done. I’m talking months of calling, emailing, physically driving to. The only therapists I could find who were taking on new patients and would accept my insurance were magic Jesus Crystal types whose “therapy” was little more than thinly veiled proselytizing.
Given how it seems people need to go through several therapists to find the right one, I gave up after failing to secure the first.
I almost fell for that whole better help scam but fortunately it was exposed for the personal data mining nonsense that it is before I signed up.
I learned of my father’s death weeks after the fact. My involuntary reaction was an emotionless, “huh.” I think I was forty eight years old at the time.
I hadn’t spoken to him for over thirty years, and had suffered decades of nightmares that he’d found me.
After learning he had passed, the nightmares finally ended, but the lifelong fight or flight tendency to keep to myself and never rock any boat remains.
My sister has said that she’s jealous of my daughter because we have a pretty close father/daughter bond - something my sister never knew and never will.
In my fifties now, I generally avoid human interaction as much as is physically possible. While I could cite other reasons as to why I’m this way, I can confidently point a rigididly extended index finger at dear old dad as the foundation of it all.
My parenting duties complete, I mostly just exist waiting for the sweet sweet embrace of death when I’ll no longer have to go make money for the man or pretend that I enjoy the saccharin sweet small talk of co-workers who don’t give two shits about me or anybody else, but professional decorum for the win, right?
I don’t even look forward to weekends because those are just two day stints of solitude doing chores so I’m ready to go make more money for the man on Monday.
That’s uh, quite a profile that guy has.
One thing I love about Lemmy is that posts like this show up and I learn of a hobby/activity that I never knew existed.
As a layperson who uses inexpensive fell off a truck level mechanical keyboards, I think it’s great that people are out there building their own.
All I can see is that it’s an RDP extension
Type: remote desktop connection
Otherwise I didn’t see a product name in properties
So how would I go about installing Linux on my shitty $200 refurbished Dell laptop? Would it continue to support my USB docking station with mouse keyboard and three monitors? What about remoting into work?
I don’t otherwise particularly do anything on it. No gaming or any such thing.
I know it’s wrong and that I’m going to Internet hell for admitting to it, but there’s a smell when Grandma would light her cigarette in the hot box car with the windows up that I find nostalgic to this day even though I find the concept of smoking in a car repugnant
The crazy thing is that it was so prevalent, I don’t really remember the world smelling smoky unless I went into a small room like my grandparents living room.
I didn’t notice it in places like restaurants and bars until after the bans came.
I would guess that my generation has a diminished sense of smell because of it.
It’s not me and I have an office. It doesn’t get to me.
But I can definitely see that it would bother a whole lot of people.
On that, I’m old enough to have begun my working life when people smoked cigarettes at their desks. This is a much, much better alternative.
I actually miss the old Mexican brick weed from thirty years ago. It could give you a headache, but otherwise, the high it produced of everything being hilarious doesn’t seem to exist anymore. Modern weed pretty much makes me instantly catatonic.
Further, I don’t know if it’s age, but a single bong rip will send me into violent fits of coughing that frequently render me running outside to puke.
I’ve stopped smoking entirely in favor of edibles due to the coughing thing. The edibles still knock me the hell out. I don’t know how the younger set wakes and bakes and carries on with their day with the modern stuff.