Kathleen could almost smell the sharpness of ozone as the sudden cacophony woke her from a glowing dreamscape. In the disturbed dream she had been approaching a girl in diaphanous white, slowly walking towards a raised marble dais. She'd been whispering unknown syllables, the sounds falling rhythmically between her parted lips, passing through heady incense, and mingling with the gentle singing voices surrounding her. The quiet rhythms of the haunting dream melody had shattered into a million shards, like a mirror broken from the sudden force of a hammered fist.
She was conscious of the next strike before she had fully awakened, its luminosity lighting her retinas through the blinds and her closed eyelids. The subsequent crashing was immediate and close, shaking her lungs and rattling the bed in which she lay.
She curled up, drawing the covers under her chin and softly whimpered. She opened her eyes again, dreading the next strike, hoping that the thunder would move away and leave her alone. She wasn't alone. His face on the pillow beside her, softly illuminated by the dim light from the window, was strong and relaxed in sleep. She looked at him with envy, wondering how he could sleep through the storm and wishing she could rejoin him in dreamscape. She reached out tentatively and traced his cheek with one slender finger. He murmured and rolled over at the touch, not waking.
Another strike, not as close, rumbled through the darkness. She jumped at the flash and then again with the thunder moments later. Kathleen swallowed, suddenly thirsty. Her heart reverberated a dull rhythm in her ears.
Lifting the sheets damp with her perspiration, she swung her bare legs from the bed and sat up. Another flash illuminated the room like an eerie strobe. She cried out as the thunder washed over her, but her small sounds were no match for the power of the storm. Her tiny cries were the squeak of a mouse fighting the mighty roar of a wolf.
As she rose to her bare feet, the rain began to tumble to the earth, released in a torrent of tears from the heavens above. Even through the insulation of the attic, she could hear the staccato beat of the rain against the shingles. She looked at the stippled ceiling above her and silently thanked a higher power that she had a roof over her head, and that she was warm and dry. Despite her protection from the elements, she shivered. She hugged herself as she walked carefully out of the room, leaving the prone man sleeping, blissfully unaware of the storm or her distress. Her bare feet whispered across the hardwood and down the flight of steps to the main level of the house.
She poured a tall glass of milk in the dim glow of the refrigerator lamp. Sitting at the kitchen table in the dark, she could hear the rain whipping into the glass of the windows. She cringed as something heavy began to hit the house, the new beat low and dangerous.
She tightened, lowering her head to the table, her heart racing, her stomach in knots. Tears threatened and spilled as another bolt of light streaked across the sky, its roar carried and simultaneously shattered by the wind.
She wanted to call for her father. Her father would protect her, stop the storm, stop her fright, stroke her hair ever so gently until it ended, infinitely patient with her. Her sisters had always made fun of her, taunting her. Their voices echoed through her memory.
"Baby. Baby. Afraid of the thunder. Grow up little baby." She could still hear their singsong voices tormenting her through the intervening years.
Her father, long gone now, chastised the imps who couldn't possibly understand, but it had only stopped them while in his presence. Engulfing her small hand in his own, her father lead her to the window, parting the curtains, showing her the storm, forcing her to confront it, forcing her to confront herself, gently
This is April 1, why not something *really* improbable?
From the heel-freezes-over dept
CmdrTaco today had sex with a woman. Thie marks his first sexual encounter since having his nutsack removed, and his first experience with a woman. "I thought she was a boy!", a sheepish CmdrTaco admitted, "I saw her at the porn store buying anime, one thing led to another, and next thing I know, there's a naked girl in bed with me!"
Researchers are split on whether this encounter means Mr Malda is bisexual. "Let's be honest", said Dr. Ruth, "he had anal sex and made her wear a strap-on. Clearly, he was trying to pretend she was a man".
Check out the most recent version of gnucash (from CVS). It supports both now, via included plugins. I've been using it. It is CVS, but i haven't had any stability problems (disclaimer: the filesa re backwards compatible, make backups daily).
Well, if I was writing a program that needed to calculate the 7% sales tax, I wouldn't hard code 7%, I would make it a user preference!
Trying to use Metadata to handle abstraction and make code reusable isn't novel -- MacOS had windows and controls defined as data in a resource, and a couple tool calls would show the windows and controls. If they had just listed MacOS resource forks, NextStep/Os X property lists, or even Windows resources, most people here would say "duh".
even if their annual reports don't show it, VA Linux is not trying to be "non-profit".
Sourceforge is a giant advertisement for the comemrcial sourceforge product.
However, savannah.gnu.org is based on an earlier, FREE, version of sourceforge, and is run by FSF (so it's already 501(c)3), and hosts gnu and non-gnu software.
You seriously don't understand the postal system's finances...
When a little old lady sends a 0.37 hand addressed letter, there's a lot more, lot more processing work involved than when J bul mailer send out his metered/discounted mail. Jay Bulk mailer has typed out address, zip+4, AND, when he gives his stack of mail to the postal service, it's already sorted by zip code. The USPS just needs to ship it down the line.
I don't like junk mail (although spam bother me more), and I don't like paying $0.37 a stamp, but the fact is, without bulk mail money, that $0.37 stamp would be a hell of a lot more.
I agree that the ESR forward should have been deleted. However, this book is a nifty collection of various hacks that probably would take you forever to stumble upon if they weren't in this book. (You're probably too busy administering or programming to experiment all day long).
Using RCS/CVS to track revisions to settings files is just an example. I've seen far too many/etc/* files that have lines commented out, no explanation why. Having a revision history clean the clutter, makes a backup, and lets you know why and when something was changed.
That's the sort of time saving, "ehy didn't i think of that" tips you'll find.
Only 1 operations to read memory, 1 to write memory
6502 is none of those things. It had 1 general purpuse (accumulator) register, and 2 index registers (x, y). Instruction encoding varied from 1-byte to 3-bytes, and half the instructions loaded or stored to memory. Sure the Z80 or 8086 were more complex, and the 6502 had a "reduced instruction set", but it's not RISC.
back in high school, we used to have 24 hour contests. The object was to see how many times your could jack off in 24 hours.
Sometimes, we tried a variation in which you tried to do as many chicks as possible in 24 hours. Actually, high school was mostly a contest to see how many chicks you could do in 4 years. Don't even get me started on college!
Actually, if you look back to the 1950s or so, songs weren't released as an album of 10 songs like today, they were released as singles, with an A side and a B side (with filler stuff usually). Partly this was due to the technology (records), but there's no reason dialup and mp3s cant' be the new limiting technology.
Slashdot Mirror
Kathleen could almost smell the sharpness of ozone as the sudden
cacophony woke her from a glowing dreamscape. In the disturbed dream
she had been approaching a girl in diaphanous white, slowly walking
towards a raised marble dais. She'd been whispering unknown syllables,
the sounds falling rhythmically between her parted lips, passing
through heady incense, and mingling with the gentle singing voices
surrounding her. The quiet rhythms of the haunting dream melody had
shattered into a million shards, like a mirror broken from the sudden
force of a hammered fist.
She was conscious of the next strike before she had fully awakened,
its luminosity lighting her retinas through the blinds and her closed
eyelids. The subsequent crashing was immediate and close, shaking her
lungs and rattling the bed in which she lay.
She curled up, drawing the covers under her chin and softly whimpered.
She opened her eyes again, dreading the next strike, hoping that the
thunder would move away and leave her alone. She wasn't alone. His
face on the pillow beside her, softly illuminated by the dim light
from the window, was strong and relaxed in sleep. She looked at him
with envy, wondering how he could sleep through the storm and wishing
she could rejoin him in dreamscape. She reached out tentatively and
traced his cheek with one slender finger. He murmured and rolled over
at the touch, not waking.
Another strike, not as close, rumbled through the darkness. She jumped
at the flash and then again with the thunder moments later. Kathleen
swallowed, suddenly thirsty. Her heart reverberated a dull rhythm in
her ears.
Lifting the sheets damp with her perspiration, she swung her bare legs
from the bed and sat up. Another flash illuminated the room like an
eerie strobe. She cried out as the thunder washed over her, but her
small sounds were no match for the power of the storm. Her tiny cries
were the squeak of a mouse fighting the mighty roar of a wolf.
As she rose to her bare feet, the rain began to tumble to the earth,
released in a torrent of tears from the heavens above. Even through
the insulation of the attic, she could hear the staccato beat of the
rain against the shingles. She looked at the stippled ceiling above
her and silently thanked a higher power that she had a roof over her
head, and that she was warm and dry. Despite her protection from the
elements, she shivered. She hugged herself as she walked carefully out
of the room, leaving the prone man sleeping, blissfully unaware of the
storm or her distress. Her bare feet whispered across the hardwood and
down the flight of steps to the main level of the house.
She poured a tall glass of milk in the dim glow of the refrigerator
lamp. Sitting at the kitchen table in the dark, she could hear the
rain whipping into the glass of the windows. She cringed as something
heavy began to hit the house, the new beat low and dangerous.
She tightened, lowering her head to the table, her heart racing, her
stomach in knots. Tears threatened and spilled as another bolt of
light streaked across the sky, its roar carried and simultaneously
shattered by the wind.
She wanted to call for her father. Her father would protect her, stop
the storm, stop her fright, stroke her hair ever so gently until it
ended, infinitely patient with her. Her sisters had always made fun of
her, taunting her. Their voices echoed through her memory.
"Baby. Baby. Afraid of the thunder. Grow up little baby." She could
still hear their singsong voices tormenting her through the
intervening years.
Her father, long gone now, chastised the imps who couldn't possibly
understand, but it had only stopped them while in his presence.
Engulfing her small hand in his own, her father lead her to the
window, parting the curtains, showing her the storm, forcing her to
confront it, forcing her to confront herself, gently
A tip for all of you out there, make sure you let it cool off first.
More importantly, will you wake up with your shorts down and vaseline on your asshole?
From the heel-freezes-over dept
CmdrTaco today had sex with a woman. Thie marks his first sexual encounter since having his nutsack removed, and his first experience with a woman. "I thought she was a boy!", a sheepish CmdrTaco admitted, "I saw her at the porn store buying anime, one thing led to another, and next thing I know, there's a naked girl in bed with me!"
Researchers are split on whether this encounter means Mr Malda is bisexual. "Let's be honest", said Dr. Ruth, "he had anal sex and made her wear a strap-on. Clearly, he was trying to pretend she was a man".
More like UpMyAss!
I bet Hemos would just love to see this geocoded! No more wasting hours at truck stop men's rooms!
Check out the most recent version of gnucash (from CVS). It supports both now, via included plugins. I've been using it. It is CVS, but i haven't had any stability problems (disclaimer: the filesa re backwards compatible, make backups daily).
You're either new to slashdot, or a MoneyDance shill.
Xenix was r00table.
Trying to use Metadata to handle abstraction and make code reusable isn't novel -- MacOS had windows and controls defined as data in a resource, and a couple tool calls would show the windows and controls. If they had just listed MacOS resource forks, NextStep/Os X property lists, or even Windows resources, most people here would say "duh".
Sourceforge is a giant advertisement for the comemrcial sourceforge product.
However, savannah.gnu.org is based on an earlier, FREE, version of sourceforge, and is run by FSF (so it's already 501(c)3), and hosts gnu and non-gnu software.
Donate to the FSF, or EFF.
tubgirl goes #2
Fortunately, nothing of value was lost. Tomorrow, they're planning on bombing the Chinese embassy.
Score: +5 Patriotic (United States of) American
PS - what's the differnce between Saddam Hussein and soap?
The french like Saddam!
When a little old lady sends a 0.37 hand addressed letter, there's a lot more, lot more processing work involved than when J bul mailer send out his metered/discounted mail. Jay Bulk mailer has typed out address, zip+4, AND, when he gives his stack of mail to the postal service, it's already sorted by zip code. The USPS just needs to ship it down the line.
I don't like junk mail (although spam bother me more), and I don't like paying $0.37 a stamp, but the fact is, without bulk mail money, that $0.37 stamp would be a hell of a lot more.
I agree that the ESR forward should have been deleted. However, this book is a nifty collection of various hacks that probably would take you forever to stumble upon if they weren't in this book. (You're probably too busy administering or programming to experiment all day long).
/etc/* files that have lines commented out, no explanation why. Having a revision history clean the clutter, makes a backup, and lets you know why and when something was changed.
Using RCS/CVS to track revisions to settings files is just an example. I've seen far too many
That's the sort of time saving, "ehy didn't i think of that" tips you'll find.
Hey, brainfuck only has 7 operations, how hard can it be? Write something non-trivial and tell us.
Risc generally has 3 features
6502 is none of those things. It had 1 general purpuse (accumulator) register, and 2 index registers (x, y). Instruction encoding varied from 1-byte to 3-bytes, and half the instructions loaded or stored to memory. Sure the Z80 or 8086 were more complex, and the 6502 had a "reduced instruction set", but it's not RISC.
It's not full of Free Candy, though. That's just the sloppy seconds from everybody stirring vanilla in her Open Box.
borland vs gcc is a good example. Let us know when borland can compile the linux kernel!
It should have been "in shit".
LNUX: $0.89 (-0.06 / -6.32%)
they've last since he bought them his freshman year in high school. Of course, they've never been used.
Sometimes, we tried a variation in which you tried to do as many chicks as possible in 24 hours. Actually, high school was mostly a contest to see how many chicks you could do in 4 years. Don't even get me started on college!
Actually, if you look back to the 1950s or so, songs weren't released as an album of 10 songs like today, they were released as singles, with an A side and a B side (with filler stuff usually). Partly this was due to the technology (records), but there's no reason dialup and mp3s cant' be the new limiting technology.
because i'm a horny smurf, and it's troll tuesday