Human error is understandable, but the fact that Demon seems to have very little internal security seems very disappointing.
A spreadsheet with customers username and password should have been able to be distributed outside of the company system, I find it to be gross incompetence on the part of companies and organisations who have little or no internal document security system to prevent small breaches such as this.
What about using carbon nanotube sheets to make sails for sailboats? Spinnaker nylon which is about the lightest they have still weighs about 14 g/m2. Most sail material weighs 2 or 3or more times that weight, and is very prone to tearing. Heavier more durable sail material, "Dacron," weighs generally between 7-10 oz or 200-300 g/m2. Carbon fiber ia alresdy used to strengthen sails, generally for high performance racing for boats and owners with very deep pockets. Furthermore what about making carbon fiber masts out of sheets of carbon nanotubes. Even furthermore than that, what about replacing rhe fiberglass in fiberglass with carbon nanotube sheets impregnated with epoxy for stiffness. Wow CN sheets are really going to break open new industries very soon.
Um, almost all of the population has a "dominant eye" with a very small fraction having no ocular dominance at all [wikipedia.org]. I haven't had the chance to demo any of these technologies but if you're asserting that ocular dominance renders them useless then I think Sony's market is drastically small. I'm not an optometrist but are you saying you experience ocular dominance far more than the average person? To a debilitating extent?
-- Surgeon General's Warning: Reading this post may cause death [veoh.com].
How many people die from smoking *in the US* every year? 300K 400K?
Settle down people. Settle down.
Wondrous -- but you still want to smack that idjit
on
The Magicians
·
· Score: -1, Troll
Stop thinking this is a fantasy book. I know, I know, it's called "The Magicians," the plot synopsis references all three of the most famous fantasy series and describes a handful of familiar fantasy tropes, including the school of magic and the fairy tale land come to actual life. But forget all of that. I have read more fantasy books than I can remember -- I'm named for a character in perhaps the most famous fantasy series of all time -- and I'm telling you: "The Magicians" is not a fantasy.
It has fantastic elements, yes. There is magic; there is a school for magic, where the characters learn to cast spells, using hand gestures and arcane language and strange mystical components -- Ziploc bag full of mutton fat, anyone? -- and there is a voyage from this world to another, a land of naiads and fauns and magical speaking animals, gods and demons, kings and queens, quests and wishes. But this book is something very different from the usual fantasy novel. In "The Magicians," Lev Grossman has done something unusual, and remarkable, perhaps even unique: this is a grown-up fantasy. This book is to fantasy what "The Grapes of Wrath" is to travel books, what "The Metamorphosis" is to self-help: so much more depressing and visceral and funny and horrifying, and genuine, and fascinating, and hard to read and therefore valuable, that it doesn't belong in the same category despite sharing some central traits. The setting is imagined, and there are supernatural things that happen, but make no mistake: this is a serious novel.
Where the characters in most fantasy books are heroic, larger than life, the sort of people we wish we could be, these magicians are not: the characters are too close to plain old humanity, flawed, contradictory, foolish and foolhardy, to stand in as idealized versions of ourselves. Where most fantasy books provide an escape from our reality, this book does not. In point of fact, the moral of this book is that escape is not only impossible, but dangerous and harmful to attempt. The hero, Quentin Coldwater, attempts to escape every serious situation he faces, and every time, he ends up worse off than he would have been if he had just been able to deal with it, honestly and sincerely. But his response to his worsened circumstances is to try to escape again -- with predictable results. Every step Quentin takes is the wrong one, and every step sinks him deeper and deeper into a quagmire. The book gets hard to read: not because the writing is anything less than excellent, as it is top notch from first page to last, but because the urge to reach into the page and slap, shake, and eventually throttle the main character becomes overwhelming. But that desire, that feeling, should be familiar to every adult who has thought back on his or her life, and shook his or her head, thinking, "Why did I do that? How could I be that stupid?" That desire to smack Quentin is no different from the desire to smack our younger selves, and sometimes, that's a terribly annoying feeling to have, which makes this a somewhat annoying book to read.
The real triumph of this book, however, is that it is not only a serious novel, despite what I have been saying. Grossman is able to describe a world of wonder and imagination, and populate it with characters who are utterly unworthy of the magic all around them, who appreciate nothing, who completely flub their great chance -- just like I would have done if I lived through this experience, just as most of us do with our great chances in our real, mundane, unfantastic lives, which are also as full of wonder as any dreamed by a teller of tales. And because the characters are so real, so easy to relate to, it makes the fantasy seem just as real (which, of course, makes the real world just as fantastic). Brakebills reminded me of my own college experience, and yet it is a magical place. Fillory is indeed a fairy tale land come to life in this book, and I found myself wishing that I could believe I would have handled Fillory better than Quentin does -- but knowing that I would ha
You will note the new patriot SSD have a 10yr warranty, but of course a "supercomputer" wouldn't use those. Other pci-e based SSD I have seen around give upto 50yr life span. Damage.Inc here btw
If you want to repeat history, by all means, crack down on the ELF and send them all to prison and beat up anyone in the group. Throw the PATRIOT act in their faces. Within no time at all you will have given their movement the publicity and recruiting tools to really cause problems. And erode public support as more and more people are locked up by guilt from association. Or you can arrest the criminals who participated in the act, force the dissolution of the rest of the group unless they officially renounce property damage as a method of protest, and actually take care of the problem!
Well, no; there is no such thing as "simply speech." There are plenty of things that you can write on the internet or issue from your mouth that should rightfully result in you being imprisoned. Such as shouting fire in a crowded theatre.
Or: 1. purposefully playing with the emotions of one specific child (not general rants on the internet) 2. a child she knows to have psychologically problems 3. over an extended period of time 4. directly suggesting suicide after manipulating, setting up, and torturing this child
That's not "simply speech". not REMOTELY "simply speech". This is nothing like me calling Rob Malda a douchebag or advocating for greater acceptance of necrophilia or defending the Baptist church or anything else that someone might object to but is obviously free speech. there are lots of free speech that are odious but not criminal.
This does not consider how complicated the interplay between your rights and your responsibilities are in this world. No, you do not get automatic protection from the consequences of EVERYTHING you can possibly say
Growing up, Rob Malda was always self-conscious about being the smallest kid in hisc lass. Mom made it worse by always begging him to eat bigger meals.
"Rob, look at all these people staring at me," she whispered to me one day on the bus. "They're wondering why I don't feed you more."
When I was 13, my father got a job transfer from Calgary, Alberta to Thunder Bay, Ontario. That was a rough transition for me. I was just starting high school, and it was frightening.
The first day in my new school, a guy named Bill invited me to his church. I'd gone to Sunday School sporadically, and knew it would be a good place to find some new friends. So I started going every week with him to the United Church just down the hill from our school.
Later, in our Grade 10 Sunday School class, we were invited to a special six-week series of classes, to be followed by a special confirmation service for those who wanted to join the church.
I'll never forget the sermon that Sunday morning, as I sat in the front pew with my class. "You're not joining a club," the minister told us. "What you're really doing is giving your lives to Jesus Christ, asking Him to come in and take control." I'd never heard that before.
"God," I prayed, "if You're really there, I invite You to come into my life. Please forgive me for my sins, and help me become the person You want me to be."
As I prayed, something happened. Deep inside came an assurance that God was real, and I was overwhelmed with the feel- ing of being loved. I knew for sure that God loved me, little John Howard. It was an amazing experience.
After that service in April, 1963, I went to every possible church activity. I had a new hunger to read the Bible and pray. Church was suddenly a very important part of my life.
But at the same time, something else was happening, something hidden and troubling. As a young teen, I discovered a pile of old sporting magazines down in the basement. Flipping the pages, I was drawn to the Charles Atlas ads. Looking at the muscular body-builders, I thought: Now that's what a real man looks like. I wish I could look like that.
Later, I accidentally discovered another magazine in a corner store, filled with scantily-clad men in seductive poses. I felt fascinated and sexually-aroused. Somehow I knew these feelings were wrong.
Thus, an inner conflict began that would continue for almost 20 years. On the one hand I prayed that God would take away these feelings for other men, while on the other I continued to find them enjoyable. I was too ashamed to tell anyone else what was happening inside me.
I had a lot of girlfriends during high school and felt very comfortable around them. Despite the increasing sexual desire for other guys, I assumed I'd eventually get married.
Then through school and church I met a girl named Vicki and we started dating. We married when we were both 21, but the conflict inside of me only increased. Often I'd have homosexual fantasies while I was being intimate with my wife, and secretly sought out magazines and books to feed my homosexual desires.
By this time, I was in seminary, training for the ministry. Vicki and I had our first daughter in 1972, then adopted a son. Later we had another girl. I deeply loved my wife and children, but the lustful thoughts were out of control. Although I didn't want to lose my family, I felt an increasing desire to act out my homosexual feelings, to see if reality was the same as fantasy.
In the summer of 1974 on my way home from a conference, I was delayed in Winnipeg. Instead of staying with friends, I went to a hostel which had the reputation for homosexual activity.
Another man approached me for sex. After he left my room, I headed for the showers. I felt so guilty and dirty--and also afraid that I might have caught some kind of venereal disease.
Later that night, I knelt beside the bed and prayed. "God, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me for this awful sin. I promise I'll never do it again. And please take awa
I wonder if this is indeed the right way to go about it. I figure that if you're famous enough, there's going to be loads of fora - public and semi-private, mind you - stuffed with defamatory comments. I figure you should just ignore it, set up your own blog, and only react if people really seem to be getting wrong ideas - but then, do so with honesty and integrity on your own blog. Insert a good troll filter so people can comment and avoid the trolls. There's always gonna be shortsighted individuals who'll gripe anything or anyone, whether that person / thing is known to them personally or not. Let 'em rot in their own juices - they'll either shower eventually or rot away, and in the latter case they're hardly worth anyone's time. Also, this avoids Streisand effects and means that anyone seriously interested in what you have to say about something will refer to your blog and not some random forum; the news sites already do so. Just keep on truckin', apologise if you're wrong, react calmly and clearly when you're right, and let the lawyers stay at home.
Making an interface that actually works properly on both Mouse+keyboard and gamepad(never mind wii stick) falls into the "squaring the circle with world peace" pile.
Sigh. See, now this is exactly the nonsense that pisses me and millions of other PC owners off. You don't hear Ferrari execs saying that they will start making sensible 4-door saloons with 80bhp because 99% of the roads in the world won't even allow you to go over 120km/h.
I have no objection to some studios producing games for mainstream (afterall, we do need Kias and Volkswagens), but the problem is that nobody is making a Ferrari anymore. The last one was Crysis, released in november 2007. Game developers have the advantage over car manufacturers that they can produce a Ferrari for the same price a Volkswagen would cost, yet they keep being held back by investors that seem to be hellbent on mainstream. If there is nothing at all to be starry-eyed over, the mainstream will lose it's appeal too.
As far as games go, the performance crown is still held by Crysis, which was released almost two years ago. On the hardware front, we were just marveling at our q9400's and eagerly awaiting the new g92 cards from nVidia at that time, look how far we've progressed! Meanwhile, on the software front nothing has happened to be starry-eyed about.
We want a game that doesn't run again, like Crysis did the first time we subjected our poor socket 939 rigs to it. I don't understand that nobody is doing this at all, and i havent heard of any plans in the pipeline either, which basically means that Crysis will at least be able to celebrate its 30th month on the throne before it is replaced. The saddest bit of gamenews for me was when i read about CryEngine 3, that isn't built to finally step forwards again, but to be able to run on Xbox and PS3.
MAJOR FAIL MONSIEUR FUNGUS.:(
BUT: Direct X 11 is coming. A grand total of 6 (six) games have announced that they will be using it. Only one of these games is PC-exclusive, and that is a BattForge, a game that's been out for a while that will receive a graphical refresh. If I understand the article correctly, this means that all the others are watered-down for consoles. Cheers.
Since the vast majority of developers can achieve the vast majority of technical feats with enough time and effort. The problem is the fact time and effort costs money. The Guitar Hero 3 port was crap because no-one put any real money behind it, simply because chances are, no-one would buy it. That only makes sense.
I understand a lot of what the devs are saying, but if I'm going to be really negative about this I couldn't help get an uneasy feeling reading about Dead Space. So, essentially he's saying "don't blame the consoles for the restrictive PC experience, blame us, we chose to make it restrictive!" Surely saying they designed it explicitly for consoles, so natrually it wouldn't work well on the PC, is the epitome of consolification? If I designed a game that only worked "as intended" on my Nokia 3210, and thus doesn't work well on anything else, claiming no-one can complain because it was originally designed for a phone is not an excuse. It's still just poor design choices.
Sigh. Not you, again, Analogy Boy. Can't you play with a cobra or something? Anyway, as others have noted, your analysis isn't quite correct. For those who don't want to read through your droning FUD, here's a summary of what it says: Videotaping the Stazi - err police - demonstrates a security vulnerability. The vulnerability does not involve theft of data, because there's encryption built into the system. What it demonstrates is that - for instance - if you leave your passport open by half an inch, the built-in shielding doesn't work as well, with the result that from a range of 6 inches, it's possible to detect the fact that the passport is there, and that it's a US passport rather than some other country's. (Actually they didn't really demonstrate selectivity by nationality, but they claim it's possible.) They say this exposes US tourists in foreign countries to a risk of violence targeted specifically against Americans. They demonstrate the risk by hanging a dummy from a clothesline, with a passport attached to the dummy, open half an inch. They pull it along the clothesline past an explosive device with a detector, which explodes when the passport comes within 6 inches of the detector. They also demonstrate an improved shielding system they devised, which prevents detection even when the passport is open half an inch.
Your FUD is impressive and mine equally so. My analysis would be as follows:
1. I'm sure the Faraday-cage wallets work fine, because they're based on solid physical principles. However, $20 is kind of a lot of money to pay for what is essentially 10 cents worth of aluminum foil.
2. In the case of a US passport, the Faraday-cage wallet isn't necessary. You're better off just getting a binder clip to hold your passport shut, so that it won't accidentally open by half an inch while it's on your person.
3. The binder clip should be cheap and 100% effective protection against the farfetched threat in the video. But the threat in the video is farfetched, because there are much easier ways of finding American tourists. Like they speak English. And they dress like Americans. And they carry cameras. And some of them follow tour guides who explain, loudly, in English, the local sightseeing attractions.
4. There are other things you might be carrying around that could have RFID, e.g., credit cards, cafeteria debit cards, or employee ID cards. A Faraday cage of some type might be a useful thing to protect these, but I'd need a lot more analysis to know whether the effort was worth it. How do I know which items in my wallet do have RFID built in? Are they encrypted? What are the possible exploits for each item?
Or not. Every so often, the blogosphere erupts in furious exchanges on the subject, with the Pollyanna set trilling 'This is the Year!' and the Eeyore types giving Linux on the Desktop about the same odds as the Cubs winning the World Series. But wait -- summer's just beginning!
Now that Memorial Day has come and gone, summer is unofficially here. What better way to celebrate than with another rousing "Year of Linux on the desktop" debate?! Sure enough -- it may be an oldie, but it's clearly a goodie, and in recent days, bloggers far and wide have been ready and willing to entertain the question again.
In fact, two such topics have dominated the Linux blogs lately, and they're inherently related. First came the well-worn question of whether Linux needs marketing Click here to get the Free Email Design No-No's Guide from Lyris -- includes the top 10 things you need to know., a topic that was kicked off when Danijel Orsolic noted that "Linux is not an OS."
"Good luck with that," quipped tuxchick on LXer, leading to more than 100 lively comments. 'Marketing Fail' Orsolic went on to argue that because Linux is not an OS, attempting to sell it as such causes "Marketing Fail." That conversation, in turn, intensified when H. Kwint asserted that "Linux doesn't need marketing," spawning a fresh round of debate.
A few days later, that good ol' "year of" debate surfaced apparently independently --almost like the Swine Flu, one might say -- in multiple spots throughout the blogosphere, where many -- and we mean *many* -- bloggers succumbed to the urge to have their say on the matter yet another time.
Carla Schroder of Linux Today began by asking, "When will it really be the year of Linux?" Almost 40 comments followed on that site before it was picked up on LXer as well. 'It Will Never Be the Year'
Meanwhile, Thomas King asserted on LXer that "It will never be the year of the Linux desktop," sparking another joint round of spirited comments there.
Around the same time, however, Slashdot bloggers were pondering a published list of reasons "Why Linux is not (yet) ready for the desktop" -- to the tune of more than 1,300 comments there.
Some questions just can't be debated too much, especially if you're a Linux geek! We here at LinuxInsider felt we had no choice but to take to the proverbial streets for more. 'There Is a Disincentive'
"Of course GNU/Linux needs marketing as in advertising, publishing, spreading the good news," blogger Robert Pogson told LinuxInsider by email. "It does not necessarily need someone planning to make money from GNU/Linux to do that, but advertising is expensive so the two are usually connected."
An ad "showing off some good features and advantages of GNU/Linux could indeed bring in customers, but the retailers/OEMs already get loot from M$ for pushing their stuff, so there is a disincentive for established merchants to push GNU/Linux," Pogson noted. "It will have to be someone big enough to stand up to M$ -- like IBM (NYSE: IBM) More about IBM or Google (Nasdaq: GOOG) More about Google --or it will have to be a smallish outfit with nothing much to lose in the way of business connected with M$."
Only in the netbook realm has GNU/Linux been able to compete with Microsoft (Nasdaq: MSFT) More about Microsoft on price and quality, "and that is because there is not a big enough price to hide all the slush the suppliers and M$ have been dividing up all these years," Pogson added. "Now consumers will be aware of the M$ tax. Before long, M$ will have to cut prices everywhere and they will no longer have the slush to bribe the market." 'It Does Need More Visibility'
On the other hand: "I don't think Linux needs to be 'marketed' in the traditional sense of marketing," tjonnyc999, an Internet marketing consultant and Slashdot blogger, told LinuxInsider via email. "It does need more visibility and to be 'de-stigmatized,' or cleared from the overtones of being the 'weird' system of choice for 'geeks and hackers' -- not brought into the mai
Hate to break this to you little girl but, especially in this new Industrial Age, playing World of Warcraft "while working a fairly complex job as a developer for a Fortune 500 company" just isn't going to cut it. This is just the way it is.
My boss, like many others (even yours), seems to think that by being my employer, he dictates what I work, where I live, what I eat, who I can associate with, even if that means I neglect my family and health. In fact, I lost an arm in one of the Java Virtual Machines a few years ago and you didn't see me trying to fight the system, because I know how hard it is. Don't like it? Leave and don't come back. Seriously, eldavajohn, leave and turn on the dark on your way out. And turn in your badge, too, little girl.
The laws in place to protect against such things are way too mild and useless. Someone can fire you for being maimed in their own machinery or assaulted by their own managers you can even get fired for refusing to have sex with your manager and then get fired for getting pregnant if you do! Sure it isn't legal, but the trouble you have to go through to fight it, then what you get in return for doing so is horribly skewed.
WoW? Bah. Where is your Level 17 Wizard now, fucker? The only solution, my dear eldavajohn, is to find another job. Don't bother forming a union with others - strikes have never worked and never will. Don't bother protesting, or trying to raise awareness by getting your story out.
Don't try the courts - they are just a horrific waste of time stacked against you. And especially don't bother voting - except with your feet to another employer. What? You can't leave because nobody will hire a child who has already run away from a factory?
"I'm getting drunk with my friends playing Wii Sports or Rock Band." Oh...great. You can't leave because you don't have the money to go looking for another Wii or PS3 because you're employed 17 hours a day just to eat? Well, child, the best you can do is be resigned to your life of virtual slavery, complaining to yourself that the system just doesn't work for you. It may not be right. It may not be fair. That IS how it is.
But if America is loaning him the money for this, I would like to see more of his source come from America.
Hear Hear! With that Obama money helping this fledgling company along, they better have survived; they have a lot riding on their success. Especially if Obamas 10 year plan to pull out of Middle East Oil is to be realized. Now, if they could bring this tech to the 30-45k vehicle market, I might be able to contribute to this endeavor! Outside of George Clooney, what average Joe can afford these?
Obviously, those Right-Winging cretins are fighting tooth and nail because their old money was paved with OIL and they are neither smart, young[i.e. willing], or idealist enough to reinvest their coffers into Hydro-electric vehicles!
There's a difference between positive cash flow (more cash coming in than going out), positive net income (what most people think of as 'profit') and positive EBITDA (earnings before interest, taxes, depreciation, and amortization, or profit from operations).
Jeez, a little imagination please.
Try taking two Sims (or better yet, many!) with opposing personalities, then bricking them into a room with nothing but a toilet an espresso machine and a Tesla automobile.
"Get the fuck out, asshole. I need to take a leak!"
"Really? You sure you just don't want another Caramel Machiatto?"
It's the only way I've actually made a Sim I didn't control kill another Sim (gotta love them neighbors!). It takes about 10-15 fist-fights, but eventually one takes a permanent dirtnap. I even had BOTH Sims fall asleep in the middle of one of them fist fights once because there was no bed. Ball of Fury, then pow!, interrupted script and two Sims sleeping in puddles of piss.
The funniest part is watching the "totally surprised" reaction of the Sim that did the killing when the Grim Reaper shows up.
"Oh sure, it's all fun and games until someone gets hurt!"
^THIS!^ Now imagine for a second you're at the home of Rob Malda. He's having breakfast with his long-time lover Michael Simms and the two are - of course - bickering like an old married couple. With me so far? Good. Michael ruffles the NY Times paper and coughs under his breath. Rob butters his toast and lights another Parliament. From under the table a mischievous cackling is heard. In a high, feminine falsetto, Rob asks Michael who's under there.
"Oh that's just ESR. He's been under there all night." Michael says and goes back to his paper. Sure enough, ESR crawls out from under the table dressed in women's thigh-high stockings (black) stiletto pumps and negligee. There are purple bruises under his left eye just at the cheek bone and what can be construed as crusted drying semen on the corners of his mouth; ESR has - apparently - had a rough night, indeed.
Ever since Eric Raymond had raped him at his house in Holland and later again at Slashdot New Year's Eve party, Rob Malda has had ESR living with him off and on. Michael doesn't care for the arrangement but who cares? So, sleeping until four or five in the evening, ESR would wake and surf the 'net for pictures of young, boyish men and call and talk tearfully to Hemos on the phone. He ignored Slashdot, thinking himself above editing tech-news, while his Open Source stocks slipped. Depression and anxiety had Rob so entirely that it seemed he would never again enjoy life. He had truly hit bottom.
Last night, Rob had forgotten his birthday but Hemos managed to coax him out for a night on the town across the state in Detroit. After their little road trip, the pair went on a shopping spree, took in a movie, and ate dinner at a very chic and expensive restaurant. After stopping for ice cream, the two friends headed to Rob's favorite Detroit night spot, the Malebox Bar. There they wasted no time dancing to the latest hard house remixes and downing shot after shot of watermelon Jolly Rancher drinks.
As time wore on and mix after mix pounded the dance floor, Rob and Hemos began feeling tipsy and decided to take a break in the club's arcade. The two fought through Mortal Kombat like an old married couple, went back and forth in Altered Beast, and played a couple rounds of Spy Hunter. The conversation had slowly turned to MAME, an Open Source program that emulated dozens of arcade games by means of illegally pirated ROM files, as they began playing Rampage. Rob and Hemos had gigs and gigs of illegally pirated ROM files.
"It's ludicrous playing video games here when we have MAME on our systems at home," Hemos said as he punched Rob in the back of the head and jumped halfway up a building.
"Yeah," Rob said as he smashed a tank. "But you can't get any action sitting at home playing video games like you can here."
"Too bad there's no way to pick up guys and play MAME at the same time," Hemos said as he ate a bathing woman and burped. "That would be the best."
"Yeah, that would be pretty great," Rob said.
Rob stopped climbing the building he was on, leaving Hemos to smash the building and jump away before it collapsed. Rob fell on his butt and lost some life.
"Rob, are you okay?" Hemos asked while button-mashing Rob's character into oblivion. "Rob?"
Hemos continued speaking, but Rob wasn't there. His eyes were wide and glazed, focused elsewhere. He was smiling weird and crooked as the game showed in reverse in his eyes. Hemos finally turned to look at Rob.
"Robert Hubert Malda!" Hemos yelled, hands on hips in frustration. Not waiting for a response, he reached out and pinched his friend's elbow. He didn't like that look in his eyes it always meant something bad was about to happen. Rob came to, shaking his head and stepping back from the game, which was now blinking GAME OVER at him. He turned and looked at Hemos, who was fuming.
"Jeff, uh, I'm sorry. I guess I zoned out there for a minute," he said as he looked around the bar. "I, um. I'll be
More detail on the power features of these chips would be nice, even if it confirms that there are none. From my own experimentation, I found that the AMD L110 has no intermediate power states, so that could mean no power saving mode.
I own a Gateway LT 3103 and can vouch for it. The screen, touchpad, and keyboard are phenomenal, and everything I've thrown at it so far, from demoprods to Aero run smoothly. The exception is high resolution flash video in full screen mode. Even so, the LT 3103 is about as perfect as a netbook can get these days. Sure, the next generation might be better, but I have a feeling in a few years we'll look back on the LT 3103 with a similar status as the Radeon 9500 and Radeon 4850.
Now imagine for a second you're at the home of Rob Malda. He's having breakfast with his long-time lover Michael Simms and the two are - of course - bickering like an old married couple. With me so far? Good. Michael ruffles the NY Times paper and coughs under his breath. Rob butters his toast and lights another Parliament. From under the table a mischievous cackling is heard. In a high, feminine falsetto, Rob asks Michael who's under there.
"Oh that's just ESR. He's been under there all night." Michael says and goes back to his paper. Sure enough, ESR crawls out from under the table dressed in women's thigh-high stockings (black) stiletto pumps and negligee. There are purple bruises under his left eye just at the cheek bone and what can be construed as crusted drying semen on the corners of his mouth; ESR has - apparently - had a rough night, indeed.
Ever since Eric Raymond had raped him at his house in Holland and later again at Slashdot New Year's Eve party, Rob Malda has had ESR living with him off and on. Michael doesn't care for the arrangement but who cares? So, sleeping until four or five in the evening, ESR would wake and surf the 'net for pictures of young, boyish men and call and talk tearfully to Hemos on the phone. He ignored Slashdot, thinking himself above editing tech-news, while his Open Source stocks slipped. Depression and anxiety had Rob so entirely that it seemed he would never again enjoy life. He had truly hit bottom.
Last night, Rob had forgotten his birthday but Hemos managed to coax him out for a night on the town across the state in Detroit. After their little road trip, the pair went on a shopping spree, took in a movie, and ate dinner at a very chic and expensive restaurant. After stopping for ice cream, the two friends headed to Rob's favorite Detroit night spot, the Malebox Bar. There they wasted no time dancing to the latest hard house remixes and downing shot after shot of watermelon Jolly Rancher drinks.
As time wore on and mix after mix pounded the dance floor, Rob and Hemos began feeling tipsy and decided to take a break in the club's arcade. The two fought through Mortal Kombat like an old married couple, went back and forth in Altered Beast, and played a couple rounds of Spy Hunter. The conversation had slowly turned to MAME, an Open Source program that emulated dozens of arcade games by means of illegally pirated ROM files, as they began playing Rampage. Rob and Hemos had gigs and gigs of illegally pirated ROM files.
"It's ludicrous playing video games here when we have MAME on our systems at home," Hemos said as he punched Rob in the back of the head and jumped halfway up a building.
"Yeah," Rob said as he smashed a tank. "But you can't get any action sitting at home playing video games like you can here."
"Too bad there's no way to pick up guys and play MAME at the same time," Hemos said as he ate a bathing woman and burped. "That would be the best."
"Yeah, that would be pretty great," Rob said.
Rob stopped climbing the building he was on, leaving Hemos to smash the building and jump away before it collapsed. Rob fell on his butt and lost some life.
"Rob, are you okay?" Hemos asked while button-mashing Rob's character into oblivion. "Rob?"
Hemos continued speaking, but Rob wasn't there. His eyes w
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Human error is understandable, but the fact that Demon seems to have very little internal security seems very disappointing.
A spreadsheet with customers username and password should have been able to be distributed outside of the company system, I find it to be gross incompetence on the part of companies and organisations who have little or no internal document security system to prevent small breaches such as this.
Ummm...extinction? God created the T-Rex. Is it still around?
mall zombies and douchebags.
*sniff* Hey I don't go around calling you names.
The band of demons really adds to his particular work. :)
I see what you did there.
What about using carbon nanotube sheets to make sails for sailboats? Spinnaker nylon which is about the lightest they have still weighs about 14 g/m2. Most sail material weighs 2 or 3or more times that weight, and is very prone to tearing. Heavier more durable sail material, "Dacron," weighs generally between 7-10 oz or 200-300 g/m2. Carbon fiber ia alresdy used to strengthen sails, generally for high performance racing for boats and owners with very deep pockets. Furthermore what about making carbon fiber masts out of sheets of carbon nanotubes. Even furthermore than that, what about replacing rhe fiberglass in fiberglass with carbon nanotube sheets impregnated with epoxy for stiffness. Wow CN sheets are really going to break open new industries very soon.
Um, almost all of the population has a "dominant eye" with a very small fraction having no ocular dominance at all [wikipedia.org]. I haven't had the chance to demo any of these technologies but if you're asserting that ocular dominance renders them useless then I think Sony's market is drastically small. I'm not an optometrist but are you saying you experience ocular dominance far more than the average person? To a debilitating extent?
--
Surgeon General's Warning: Reading this post may cause death [veoh.com].
How many people die from smoking *in the US* every year? 300K 400K?
Settle down people. Settle down.
Stop thinking this is a fantasy book. I know, I know, it's called "The Magicians," the plot synopsis references all three of the most famous fantasy series and describes a handful of familiar fantasy tropes, including the school of magic and the fairy tale land come to actual life. But forget all of that. I have read more fantasy books than I can remember -- I'm named for a character in perhaps the most famous fantasy series of all time -- and I'm telling you: "The Magicians" is not a fantasy.
It has fantastic elements, yes. There is magic; there is a school for magic, where the characters learn to cast spells, using hand gestures and arcane language and strange mystical components -- Ziploc bag full of mutton fat, anyone? -- and there is a voyage from this world to another, a land of naiads and fauns and magical speaking animals, gods and demons, kings and queens, quests and wishes. But this book is something very different from the usual fantasy novel. In "The Magicians," Lev Grossman has done something unusual, and remarkable, perhaps even unique: this is a grown-up fantasy. This book is to fantasy what "The Grapes of Wrath" is to travel books, what "The Metamorphosis" is to self-help: so much more depressing and visceral and funny and horrifying, and genuine, and fascinating, and hard to read and therefore valuable, that it doesn't belong in the same category despite sharing some central traits. The setting is imagined, and there are supernatural things that happen, but make no mistake: this is a serious novel.
Where the characters in most fantasy books are heroic, larger than life, the sort of people we wish we could be, these magicians are not: the characters are too close to plain old humanity, flawed, contradictory, foolish and foolhardy, to stand in as idealized versions of ourselves. Where most fantasy books provide an escape from our reality, this book does not. In point of fact, the moral of this book is that escape is not only impossible, but dangerous and harmful to attempt. The hero, Quentin Coldwater, attempts to escape every serious situation he faces, and every time, he ends up worse off than he would have been if he had just been able to deal with it, honestly and sincerely. But his response to his worsened circumstances is to try to escape again -- with predictable results. Every step Quentin takes is the wrong one, and every step sinks him deeper and deeper into a quagmire. The book gets hard to read: not because the writing is anything less than excellent, as it is top notch from first page to last, but because the urge to reach into the page and slap, shake, and eventually throttle the main character becomes overwhelming. But that desire, that feeling, should be familiar to every adult who has thought back on his or her life, and shook his or her head, thinking, "Why did I do that? How could I be that stupid?" That desire to smack Quentin is no different from the desire to smack our younger selves, and sometimes, that's a terribly annoying feeling to have, which makes this a somewhat annoying book to read.
The real triumph of this book, however, is that it is not only a serious novel, despite what I have been saying. Grossman is able to describe a world of wonder and imagination, and populate it with characters who are utterly unworthy of the magic all around them, who appreciate nothing, who completely flub their great chance -- just like I would have done if I lived through this experience, just as most of us do with our great chances in our real, mundane, unfantastic lives, which are also as full of wonder as any dreamed by a teller of tales. And because the characters are so real, so easy to relate to, it makes the fantasy seem just as real (which, of course, makes the real world just as fantastic). Brakebills reminded me of my own college experience, and yet it is a magical place. Fillory is indeed a fairy tale land come to life in this book, and I found myself wishing that I could believe I would have handled Fillory better than Quentin does -- but knowing that I would ha
You will note the new patriot SSD have a 10yr warranty, but of course a "supercomputer" wouldn't use those. Other pci-e based SSD I have seen around give upto 50yr life span. Damage.Inc here btw
If you want to repeat history, by all means, crack down on the ELF and send them all to prison and beat up anyone in the group. Throw the PATRIOT act in their faces. Within no time at all you will have given their movement the publicity and recruiting tools to really cause problems. And erode public support as more and more people are locked up by guilt from association. Or you can arrest the criminals who participated in the act, force the dissolution of the rest of the group unless they officially renounce property damage as a method of protest, and actually take care of the problem!
WOW! Talk about the cookware referring to the boiling vessel as chocolate coloured. ;-)
Well, no; there is no such thing as "simply speech." There are plenty of things that you can write on the internet or issue from your mouth that should rightfully result in you being imprisoned. Such as shouting fire in a crowded theatre.
Or:
1. purposefully playing with the emotions of one specific child (not general rants on the internet)
2. a child she knows to have psychologically problems
3. over an extended period of time
4. directly suggesting suicide after manipulating, setting up, and torturing this child
That's not "simply speech". not REMOTELY "simply speech". This is nothing like me calling Rob Malda a douchebag or advocating for greater acceptance of necrophilia or defending the Baptist church or anything else that someone might object to but is obviously free speech. there are lots of free speech that are odious but not criminal.
This does not consider how complicated the interplay between your rights and your responsibilities are in this world. No, you do not get automatic protection from the consequences of EVERYTHING you can possibly say
Growing up, Rob Malda was always self-conscious about being the smallest kid in hisc lass. Mom made it worse by always begging him to eat bigger meals.
"Rob, look at all these people staring at me," she whispered to me one day on the bus. "They're wondering why I don't feed you more."
When I was 13, my father got a job transfer from Calgary, Alberta to Thunder Bay, Ontario. That was a rough transition for me. I was just starting high school, and it was frightening.
The first day in my new school, a guy named Bill invited me to his church. I'd gone to Sunday School sporadically, and knew it would be a good place to find some new friends. So I started going every week with him to the United Church just down the hill from our school.
Later, in our Grade 10 Sunday School class, we were invited to a special six-week series of classes, to be followed by a special confirmation service for those who wanted to join the church.
I'll never forget the sermon that Sunday morning, as I sat in the front pew with my class. "You're not joining a club," the minister told us. "What you're really doing is giving your lives to Jesus Christ, asking Him to come in and take control." I'd never heard that before.
"God," I prayed, "if You're really there, I invite You to come into my life. Please forgive me for my sins, and help me become the person You want me to be."
As I prayed, something happened. Deep inside came an assurance that God was real, and I was overwhelmed with the feel- ing of being loved. I knew for sure that God loved me, little John Howard. It was an amazing experience.
After that service in April, 1963, I went to every possible church activity. I had a new hunger to read the Bible and pray. Church was suddenly a very important part of my life.
But at the same time, something else was happening, something hidden and troubling. As a young teen, I discovered a pile of old sporting magazines down in the basement. Flipping the pages, I was drawn to the Charles Atlas ads. Looking at the muscular body-builders, I thought: Now that's what a real man looks like. I wish I could look like that.
Later, I accidentally discovered another magazine in a corner store, filled with scantily-clad men in seductive poses. I felt fascinated and sexually-aroused. Somehow I knew these feelings were wrong.
Thus, an inner conflict began that would continue for almost 20 years. On the one hand I prayed that God would take away these feelings for other men, while on the other I continued to find them enjoyable. I was too ashamed to tell anyone else what was happening inside me.
I had a lot of girlfriends during high school and felt very comfortable around them. Despite the increasing sexual desire for other guys, I assumed I'd eventually get married.
Then through school and church I met a girl named Vicki and we started dating. We married when we were both 21, but the conflict inside of me only increased. Often I'd have homosexual fantasies while I was being intimate with my wife, and secretly sought out magazines and books to feed my homosexual desires.
By this time, I was in seminary, training for the ministry. Vicki and I had our first daughter in 1972, then adopted a son. Later we had another girl. I deeply loved my wife and children, but the lustful thoughts were out of control. Although I didn't want to lose my family, I felt an increasing desire to act out my homosexual feelings, to see if reality was the same as fantasy.
In the summer of 1974 on my way home from a conference, I was delayed in Winnipeg. Instead of staying with friends, I went to a hostel which had the reputation for homosexual activity.
Another man approached me for sex. After he left my room, I headed for the showers. I felt so guilty and dirty--and also afraid that I might have caught some kind of venereal disease.
Later that night, I knelt beside the bed and prayed. "God, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me for this awful sin. I promise I'll never do it again. And please take awa
I wonder if this is indeed the right way to go about it. I figure that if you're famous enough, there's going to be loads of fora - public and semi-private, mind you - stuffed with defamatory comments. I figure you should just ignore it, set up your own blog, and only react if people really seem to be getting wrong ideas - but then, do so with honesty and integrity on your own blog. Insert a good troll filter so people can comment and avoid the trolls. There's always gonna be shortsighted individuals who'll gripe anything or anyone, whether that person / thing is known to them personally or not. Let 'em rot in their own juices - they'll either shower eventually or rot away, and in the latter case they're hardly worth anyone's time. Also, this avoids Streisand effects and means that anyone seriously interested in what you have to say about something will refer to your blog and not some random forum; the news sites already do so. Just keep on truckin', apologise if you're wrong, react calmly and clearly when you're right, and let the lawyers stay at home.
I mean, come on; just release the fucker to manufacturing so I can download it from ISOHunt already. Jesus! Too much to ask?
Close; 'Menuet' was Riker's Holodeck whore on STNG. And, my gosh, the cunt on *that*. Riker, I mean, ;-)
=Smidge=
Making an interface that actually works properly on both Mouse+keyboard and gamepad(never mind wii stick) falls into the "squaring the circle with world peace" pile.
Sigh. See, now this is exactly the nonsense that pisses me and millions of other PC owners off. You don't hear Ferrari execs saying that they will start making sensible 4-door saloons with 80bhp because 99% of the roads in the world won't even allow you to go over 120km/h.
I have no objection to some studios producing games for mainstream (afterall, we do need Kias and Volkswagens), but the problem is that nobody is making a Ferrari anymore. The last one was Crysis, released in november 2007. Game developers have the advantage over car manufacturers that they can produce a Ferrari for the same price a Volkswagen would cost, yet they keep being held back by investors that seem to be hellbent on mainstream. If there is nothing at all to be starry-eyed over, the mainstream will lose it's appeal too.
As far as games go, the performance crown is still held by Crysis, which was released almost two years ago. On the hardware front, we were just marveling at our q9400's and eagerly awaiting the new g92 cards from nVidia at that time, look how far we've progressed! Meanwhile, on the software front nothing has happened to be starry-eyed about.
We want a game that doesn't run again, like Crysis did the first time we subjected our poor socket 939 rigs to it. I don't understand that nobody is doing this at all, and i havent heard of any plans in the pipeline either, which basically means that Crysis will at least be able to celebrate its 30th month on the throne before it is replaced.
The saddest bit of gamenews for me was when i read about CryEngine 3, that isn't built to finally step forwards again, but to be able to run on Xbox and PS3.
MAJOR FAIL MONSIEUR FUNGUS. :(
BUT: Direct X 11 is coming. A grand total of 6 (six) games have announced that they will be using it. Only one of these games is PC-exclusive, and that is a BattForge, a game that's been out for a while that will receive a graphical refresh. If I understand the article correctly, this means that all the others are watered-down for consoles. Cheers.
Since the vast majority of developers can achieve the vast majority of technical feats with enough time and effort. The problem is the fact time and effort costs money. The Guitar Hero 3 port was crap because no-one put any real money behind it, simply because chances are, no-one would buy it. That only makes sense.
I understand a lot of what the devs are saying, but if I'm going to be really negative about this I couldn't help get an uneasy feeling reading about Dead Space. So, essentially he's saying "don't blame the consoles for the restrictive PC experience, blame us, we chose to make it restrictive!" Surely saying they designed it explicitly for consoles, so natrually it wouldn't work well on the PC, is the epitome of consolification? If I designed a game that only worked "as intended" on my Nokia 3210, and thus doesn't work well on anything else, claiming no-one can complain because it was originally designed for a phone is not an excuse. It's still just poor design choices.
Sigh. Not you, again, Analogy Boy. Can't you play with a cobra or something? Anyway, as others have noted, your analysis isn't quite correct. For those who don't want to read through your droning FUD, here's a summary of what it says: Videotaping the Stazi - err police - demonstrates a security vulnerability. The vulnerability does not involve theft of data, because there's encryption built into the system. What it demonstrates is that - for instance - if you leave your passport open by half an inch, the built-in shielding doesn't work as well, with the result that from a range of 6 inches, it's possible to detect the fact that the passport is there, and that it's a US passport rather than some other country's. (Actually they didn't really demonstrate selectivity by nationality, but they claim it's possible.) They say this exposes US tourists in foreign countries to a risk of violence targeted specifically against Americans. They demonstrate the risk by hanging a dummy from a clothesline, with a passport attached to the dummy, open half an inch. They pull it along the clothesline past an explosive device with a detector, which explodes when the passport comes within 6 inches of the detector. They also demonstrate an improved shielding system they devised, which prevents detection even when the passport is open half an inch.
Your FUD is impressive and mine equally so. My analysis would be as follows:
1. I'm sure the Faraday-cage wallets work fine, because they're based on solid physical principles. However, $20 is kind of a lot of money to pay for what is essentially 10 cents worth of aluminum foil.
2. In the case of a US passport, the Faraday-cage wallet isn't necessary. You're better off just getting a binder clip to hold your passport shut, so that it won't accidentally open by half an inch while it's on your person.
3. The binder clip should be cheap and 100% effective protection against the farfetched threat in the video. But the threat in the video is farfetched, because there are much easier ways of finding American tourists. Like they speak English. And they dress like Americans. And they carry cameras. And some of them follow tour guides who explain, loudly, in English, the local sightseeing attractions.
4. There are other things you might be carrying around that could have RFID, e.g., credit cards, cafeteria debit cards, or employee ID cards. A Faraday cage of some type might be a useful thing to protect these, but I'd need a lot more analysis to know whether the effort was worth it. How do I know which items in my wallet do have RFID built in? Are they encrypted? What are the possible exploits for each item?
=Smidge=
Or not. Every so often, the blogosphere erupts in furious exchanges on the subject, with the Pollyanna set trilling 'This is the Year!' and the Eeyore types giving Linux on the Desktop about the same odds as the Cubs winning the World Series. But wait -- summer's just beginning!
Now that Memorial Day has come and gone, summer is unofficially here. What better way to celebrate than with another rousing "Year of Linux on the desktop" debate?! Sure enough -- it may be an oldie, but it's clearly a goodie, and in recent days, bloggers far and wide have been ready and willing to entertain the question again.
In fact, two such topics have dominated the Linux blogs lately, and they're inherently related. First came the well-worn question of whether Linux needs marketing Click here to get the Free Email Design No-No's Guide from Lyris -- includes the top 10 things you need to know., a topic that was kicked off when Danijel Orsolic noted that "Linux is not an OS."
"Good luck with that," quipped tuxchick on LXer, leading to more than 100 lively comments. 'Marketing Fail' Orsolic went on to argue that because Linux is not an OS, attempting to sell it as such causes "Marketing Fail." That conversation, in turn, intensified when H. Kwint asserted that "Linux doesn't need marketing," spawning a fresh round of debate.
A few days later, that good ol' "year of" debate surfaced apparently independently --almost like the Swine Flu, one might say -- in multiple spots throughout the blogosphere, where many -- and we mean *many* -- bloggers succumbed to the urge to have their say on the matter yet another time.
Carla Schroder of Linux Today began by asking, "When will it really be the year of Linux?" Almost 40 comments followed on that site before it was picked up on LXer as well.
'It Will Never Be the Year'
Meanwhile, Thomas King asserted on LXer that "It will never be the year of the Linux desktop," sparking another joint round of spirited comments there.
Around the same time, however, Slashdot bloggers were pondering a published list of reasons "Why Linux is not (yet) ready for the desktop" -- to the tune of more than 1,300 comments there.
Some questions just can't be debated too much, especially if you're a Linux geek! We here at LinuxInsider felt we had no choice but to take to the proverbial streets for more.
'There Is a Disincentive'
"Of course GNU/Linux needs marketing as in advertising, publishing, spreading the good news," blogger Robert Pogson told LinuxInsider by email. "It does not necessarily need someone planning to make money from GNU/Linux to do that, but advertising is expensive so the two are usually connected."
An ad "showing off some good features and advantages of GNU/Linux could indeed bring in customers, but the retailers/OEMs already get loot from M$ for pushing their stuff, so there is a disincentive for established merchants to push GNU/Linux," Pogson noted. "It will have to be someone big enough to stand up to M$ -- like IBM (NYSE: IBM) More about IBM or Google (Nasdaq: GOOG) More about Google --or it will have to be a smallish outfit with nothing much to lose in the way of business connected with M$."
Only in the netbook realm has GNU/Linux been able to compete with Microsoft (Nasdaq: MSFT) More about Microsoft on price and quality, "and that is because there is not a big enough price to hide all the slush the suppliers and M$ have been dividing up all these years," Pogson added. "Now consumers will be aware of the M$ tax. Before long, M$ will have to cut prices everywhere and they will no longer have the slush to bribe the market."
'It Does Need More Visibility'
On the other hand: "I don't think Linux needs to be 'marketed' in the traditional sense of marketing," tjonnyc999, an Internet marketing consultant and Slashdot blogger, told LinuxInsider via email. "It does need more visibility and to be 'de-stigmatized,' or cleared from the overtones of being the 'weird' system of choice for 'geeks and hackers' -- not brought into the mai
Hate to break this to you little girl but, especially in this new Industrial Age, playing World of Warcraft "while working a fairly complex job as a developer for a Fortune 500 company" just isn't going to cut it. This is just the way it is.
My boss, like many others (even yours), seems to think that by being my employer, he dictates what I work, where I live, what I eat, who I can associate with, even if that means I neglect my family and health. In fact, I lost an arm in one of the Java Virtual Machines a few years ago and you didn't see me trying to fight the system, because I know how hard it is. Don't like it? Leave and don't come back. Seriously, eldavajohn, leave and turn on the dark on your way out. And turn in your badge, too, little girl.
The laws in place to protect against such things are way too mild and useless. Someone can fire you for being maimed in their own machinery or assaulted by their own managers you can even get fired for refusing to have sex with your manager and then get fired for getting pregnant if you do! Sure it isn't legal, but the trouble you have to go through to fight it, then what you get in return for doing so is horribly skewed.
WoW? Bah. Where is your Level 17 Wizard now, fucker? The only solution, my dear eldavajohn, is to find another job. Don't bother forming a union with others - strikes have never worked and never will. Don't bother protesting, or trying to raise awareness by getting your story out.
Don't try the courts - they are just a horrific waste of time stacked against you. And especially don't bother voting - except with your feet to another employer. What? You can't leave because nobody will hire a child who has already run away from a factory?
"I'm getting drunk with my friends playing Wii Sports or Rock Band." Oh...great. You can't leave because you don't have the money to go looking for another Wii or PS3 because you're employed 17 hours a day just to eat? Well, child, the best you can do is be resigned to your life of virtual slavery, complaining to yourself that the system just doesn't work for you. It may not be right. It may not be fair. That IS how it is.
So fuck YOU, sir!
But if America is loaning him the money for this, I would like to see more of his source come from America.
Hear Hear! With that Obama money helping this fledgling company along, they better have survived; they have a lot riding on their success. Especially if Obamas 10 year plan to pull out of Middle East Oil is to be realized. Now, if they could bring this tech to the 30-45k vehicle market, I might be able to contribute to this endeavor! Outside of George Clooney, what average Joe can afford these?
Obviously, those Right-Winging cretins are fighting tooth and nail because their old money was paved with OIL and they are neither smart, young[i.e. willing], or idealist enough to reinvest their coffers into Hydro-electric vehicles!
There's a difference between positive cash flow (more cash coming in than going out), positive net income (what most people think of as 'profit') and positive EBITDA (earnings before interest, taxes, depreciation, and amortization, or profit from operations).
Jeez, a little imagination please.
Try taking two Sims (or better yet, many!) with opposing personalities, then bricking them into a room with nothing but a toilet an espresso machine and a Tesla automobile.
"Get the fuck out, asshole. I need to take a leak!"
"Really? You sure you just don't want another Caramel Machiatto?"
It's the only way I've actually made a Sim I didn't control kill another Sim (gotta love them neighbors!). It takes about 10-15 fist-fights, but eventually one takes a permanent dirtnap. I even had BOTH Sims fall asleep in the middle of one of them fist fights once because there was no bed. Ball of Fury, then pow!, interrupted script and two Sims sleeping in puddles of piss.
The funniest part is watching the "totally surprised" reaction of the Sim that did the killing when the Grim Reaper shows up.
"Oh sure, it's all fun and games until someone gets hurt!"
=Smidge=
1. Do not seek relationship advice on Slashdot.
^THIS!^ Now imagine for a second you're at the home of Rob Malda. He's having breakfast with his long-time lover Michael Simms and the two are - of course - bickering like an old married couple. With me so far? Good. Michael ruffles the NY Times paper and coughs under his breath. Rob butters his toast and lights another Parliament. From under the table a mischievous cackling is heard. In a high, feminine falsetto, Rob asks Michael who's under there.
"Oh that's just ESR. He's been under there all night." Michael says and goes back to his paper. Sure enough, ESR crawls out from under the table dressed in women's thigh-high stockings (black) stiletto pumps and negligee. There are purple bruises under his left eye just at the cheek bone and what can be construed as crusted drying semen on the corners of his mouth; ESR has - apparently - had a rough night, indeed.
Ever since Eric Raymond had raped him at his house in Holland and later again at Slashdot New Year's Eve party, Rob Malda has had ESR living with him off and on. Michael doesn't care for the arrangement but who cares? So, sleeping until four or five in the evening, ESR would wake and surf the 'net for pictures of young, boyish men and call and talk tearfully to Hemos on the phone. He ignored Slashdot, thinking himself above editing tech-news, while his Open Source stocks slipped. Depression and anxiety had Rob so entirely that it seemed he would never again enjoy life. He had truly hit bottom.
Last night, Rob had forgotten his birthday but Hemos managed to coax him out for a night on the town across the state in Detroit. After their little road trip, the pair went on a shopping spree, took in a movie, and ate dinner at a very chic and expensive restaurant. After stopping for ice cream, the two friends headed to Rob's favorite Detroit night spot, the Malebox Bar. There they wasted no time dancing to the latest hard house remixes and downing shot after shot of watermelon Jolly Rancher drinks.
As time wore on and mix after mix pounded the dance floor, Rob and Hemos began feeling tipsy and decided to take a break in the club's arcade. The two fought through Mortal Kombat like an old married couple, went back and forth in Altered Beast, and played a couple rounds of Spy Hunter. The conversation had slowly turned to MAME, an Open Source program that emulated dozens of arcade games by means of illegally pirated ROM files, as they began playing Rampage. Rob and Hemos had gigs and gigs of illegally pirated ROM files.
"It's ludicrous playing video games here when we have MAME on our systems at home," Hemos said as he punched Rob in the back of the head and jumped halfway up a building.
"Yeah," Rob said as he smashed a tank. "But you can't get any action sitting at home playing video games like you can here."
"Too bad there's no way to pick up guys and play MAME at the same time," Hemos said as he ate a bathing woman and burped. "That would be the best."
"Yeah, that would be pretty great," Rob said.
Rob stopped climbing the building he was on, leaving Hemos to smash the building and jump away before it collapsed. Rob fell on his butt and lost some life.
"Rob, are you okay?" Hemos asked while button-mashing Rob's character into oblivion. "Rob?"
Hemos continued speaking, but Rob wasn't there. His eyes were wide and glazed, focused elsewhere. He was smiling weird and crooked as the game showed in reverse in his eyes. Hemos finally turned to look at Rob.
"Robert Hubert Malda!" Hemos yelled, hands on hips in frustration. Not waiting for a response, he reached out and pinched his friend's elbow. He didn't like that look in his eyes it always meant something bad was about to happen. Rob came to, shaking his head and stepping back from the game, which was now blinking GAME OVER at him. He turned and looked at Hemos, who was fuming.
"Jeff, uh, I'm sorry. I guess I zoned out there for a minute," he said as he looked around the bar. "I, um. I'll be
More detail on the power features of these chips would be nice, even if it confirms that there are none. From my own experimentation, I found that the AMD L110 has no intermediate power states, so that could mean no power saving mode.
I own a Gateway LT 3103 and can vouch for it. The screen, touchpad, and keyboard are phenomenal, and everything I've thrown at it so far, from demoprods to Aero run smoothly. The exception is high resolution flash video in full screen mode. Even so, the LT 3103 is about as perfect as a netbook can get these days. Sure, the next generation might be better, but I have a feeling in a few years we'll look back on the LT 3103 with a similar status as the Radeon 9500 and Radeon 4850.
Now imagine for a second you're at the home of Rob Malda. He's having breakfast with his long-time lover Michael Simms and the two are - of course - bickering like an old married couple. With me so far? Good. Michael ruffles the NY Times paper and coughs under his breath. Rob butters his toast and lights another Parliament. From under the table a mischievous cackling is heard. In a high, feminine falsetto, Rob asks Michael who's under there.
"Oh that's just ESR. He's been under there all night." Michael says and goes back to his paper. Sure enough, ESR crawls out from under the table dressed in women's thigh-high stockings (black) stiletto pumps and negligee. There are purple bruises under his left eye just at the cheek bone and what can be construed as crusted drying semen on the corners of his mouth; ESR has - apparently - had a rough night, indeed.
Ever since Eric Raymond had raped him at his house in Holland and later again at Slashdot New Year's Eve party, Rob Malda has had ESR living with him off and on. Michael doesn't care for the arrangement but who cares? So, sleeping until four or five in the evening, ESR would wake and surf the 'net for pictures of young, boyish men and call and talk tearfully to Hemos on the phone. He ignored Slashdot, thinking himself above editing tech-news, while his Open Source stocks slipped. Depression and anxiety had Rob so entirely that it seemed he would never again enjoy life. He had truly hit bottom.
Last night, Rob had forgotten his birthday but Hemos managed to coax him out for a night on the town across the state in Detroit. After their little road trip, the pair went on a shopping spree, took in a movie, and ate dinner at a very chic and expensive restaurant. After stopping for ice cream, the two friends headed to Rob's favorite Detroit night spot, the Malebox Bar. There they wasted no time dancing to the latest hard house remixes and downing shot after shot of watermelon Jolly Rancher drinks.
As time wore on and mix after mix pounded the dance floor, Rob and Hemos began feeling tipsy and decided to take a break in the club's arcade. The two fought through Mortal Kombat like an old married couple, went back and forth in Altered Beast, and played a couple rounds of Spy Hunter. The conversation had slowly turned to MAME, an Open Source program that emulated dozens of arcade games by means of illegally pirated ROM files, as they began playing Rampage. Rob and Hemos had gigs and gigs of illegally pirated ROM files.
"It's ludicrous playing video games here when we have MAME on our systems at home," Hemos said as he punched Rob in the back of the head and jumped halfway up a building.
"Yeah," Rob said as he smashed a tank. "But you can't get any action sitting at home playing video games like you can here."
"Too bad there's no way to pick up guys and play MAME at the same time," Hemos said as he ate a bathing woman and burped. "That would be the best."
"Yeah, that would be pretty great," Rob said.
Rob stopped climbing the building he was on, leaving Hemos to smash the building and jump away before it collapsed. Rob fell on his butt and lost some life.
"Rob, are you okay?" Hemos asked while button-mashing Rob's character into oblivion. "Rob?"
Hemos continued speaking, but Rob wasn't there. His eyes w