@AnMLGCat@PerryALPHA See guys! We’re supposed to have a monopolistic bank controlling the heart of our economy. Its supposed to be this way sillies. They can devalue your currency by 99%, channel all that wealth to their friends, and you get no oversight and can never complain.
@BStizzl@PerryALPHA “Independence” is such an insane use of neo-language here. The part of the government that makes the most important financial decisions is independent from what? From“the government?“ From “democracy?”
I spotted the djinn that was eluded me,,I fired. Grazing shot. I am following the trail of blood. I can hear it cry in terror through the trees. I will capture my prey. The secrets of the sands will become known to me
I remember watching pc building guides 5 or 6 years ago and RAM was THE cheapest part, by far. Everyone was like "yeah you can get away with 16 but you might as well get 32 if you can fit them because it's like 20 bucks for a pair of these things" now we live in hell.
If you are asking “Why push back against anti-datacenter efforts?” I consider it a tragedy that anti-nuclear efforts largely strangled nuclear power in the US based on vibes, and I don’t want to see that happen to AI. Public opinion matters, and it shouldn’t be ceded unchallenged.
If you are asking “Why should I support AI efforts at all?” I believe we are in the midst of a transition more vibrant than the industrial revolution. Opinions formed a couple of years ago about the uselessness of AI are no longer valid. Millions of people and organizations are getting great returns from using it, and the demand for data centers is the market responding to the value signal. That is how progress is made!
I don't know what I expected, but Order of the Sinking Star is exactly that.
There's so much here that I absolutely love, but ever since Maxwell's Puzzling Demon I've been afraid of overworld puzzles and other such puzzle game tropes.
Oh, and it's also very cozy!
It goes way beyond gender discourse, this is the whole engine of liberalism
>identify a human relationship under tension
>offer a commodified, legible, transactional version of that relationship to the weaker party
>pay for it by coercing the more powerful party
>win a client, neutralize a rival power structure
The actual joke here is not that liberals lack a theory of mind for anyone on the right (they do) while the average person on the right has one for liberals (they do, it's mistaken)
It's that lib lack a theory of mind *for themselves*
Their views of themselves and why they believe what they believe are entirely incorrect - they view their beliefs as "rational" and "following the evidence" but their actual beliefs are more simply described by "attempts to match the beliefs of the hivemind" and the hivemind changes beliefs based on if those beliefs produce power
The simplest example (and there are others) is everything around covid where it went from "it's racist to worry about a disease - hug a Chinese person" to "shut everything down" to "racism is the real public health emergency" all following purely from the logic of power
If a liberal had a good theory of mind *for himself* he would see himself as so cynical that he couldn't function as a good liberal - just saying that this is how they form views is enough to disqualify anyone from taking their views seriously
Them lacking a theory of mind for anyone on the right is just a natural consequence of this
History's first trillionaire is a guy who catches rockets out of the sky with chopsticks and beams internet to every dead zone on the planet.
Same guy ships cars that drive themselves, humanoid robots for the factory floor, brain chips that let paralyzed people move a cursor with pure thought, and an AI running on a supercomputer his team stood up in months instead of years.
And the people crashing out about his net worth are doing it on the app he owns. The same app governments spent years trying to censor.
You cannot legislate a rocket into orbit.
With Guillermo del Toro’s recommendation, I started watching Apple TV+‘s “Widow’s Bay.” It’s so incredibly good that I couldn’t stop, so I binged through Episode 9 in one go. This horror-comedy, executive produced by Hiro Murai, is set in a cursed island town 40 miles off the coast of New England. Dense fog, violent storms, and all kinds of supernatural phenomena descend upon the town. It’s packed with horror elements, one after another. Fans of Stephen King and horror in general will love it. The pacing is excellent, and the balance between horror and humor is just right. Ironically, the mayor’s tireless efforts to attract tourists reminded me of Mayor Vaughn from “Jaws.” The townspeople are wonderfully eccentric as well, with personalities straight out of “Twin Peaks.” It’s been a long time since a series pulled me in this completely. I can’t wait for next Wednesday’s final episode.
@reddit_lies Never forget that reddit used to be a great place for discussions and free speech until shortly after Trump won in 2016
The only reason reddit isn't filled with posts like this is because the mods delete them and the admins ban subreddits that aren't ideologically captured
USA. There is a beast that lives beneath the American sink. It is always hungry. I have chosen to honor it.
The young man showing me the apartment said it casually, as if it were nothing. "Oh, and there's a disposal." He flipped a switch, and the drain ROARED — a grinding, growling thunder, hungry and alive — and then, at another flick, fell silent. Waiting.
I did not flinch. But I understood at once what I was dealing with.
For it is written that the oldest houses keep a guardian at the threshold of fire and water: a spirit of the hearth, fed in exchange for protection. Here, that spirit lives beneath the sink. It does not ask for prayers. It asks for scraps. And in return it devours what would rot, and keeps the whole house clean and sweet.
So I fed it, with respect. The rind of an onion. A bow. The switch. The roar of a grateful god. I thanked it each time. I named it. I began to leave it the best scraps, not the worst — for a guardian deserves the finest tribute a kitchen can give.
And here my heart rose, and I declared the thing a calmer man would not:
"I will feed this hungry spirit so faithfully, and so well, that on the day misfortune finally comes for this house, it will rise from the drain in a column of righteous thunder and devour my every enemy whole — and I will stand calmly beside the sink and say, 'this one has been with me from the beginning.'"
My landlord, doing the final walkthrough, heard the disposal roaring at midnight and knocked, concerned.
"Everything okay in here?"
"We are well," I said, gesturing to the sink. "He and I."
He did not understand. But he nodded slowly, and left us to it.
The drain has never clogged. The kitchen has never smelled of anything but morning. We have an understanding now, the beast and I.
So tell me, America.
You call it a garbage disposal. An appliance. A switch you flip without a thought.
I call it the loyal hearth-beast of every house —
fed in scraps, paid in thunder,
asking nothing but to be remembered at supper.
Henry Nowak died the same way a civilization dies: abandoned, handcuffed by authorities who neither trusted nor cared for him, and accused of hate crimes he did not commit. His murder is as tragic as it is enraging. He should still be alive today, and he would be if the last few generations of European elites had stood their ground against the politics of self-hatred and the mass invasion of migrants, many of whom despise the West and the people who love it.
Henry was far from the first to so needlessly lose his life, and I fear he won’t be the last. Each time a life like his is lost, the proper response—the only response—is righteous anger. One of the most important things the Trump administration has proven to the world is that stopping the flow of mass migration and defending national sovereignty is a matter of political will and leadership. Anything else is an excuse.
It is because we love the West that we want to preserve it. We love our civilization. We love our country. We love our children. And nobody—nobody—should ever die the way that Henry Nowak died. May God comfort those who loved him, and may God rest his soul.
USA. Summer. It is 95 degrees outside, and I am shivering inside a sandwich shop.
I have discovered how Americans forge strong souls.
Outside, the sun is trying to kill everyone. Inside this small restaurant, it is winter. My breath does not fog, but it is thinking about it. A man near me is eating a cold sandwich while wearing a jacket. In summer. Indoors.
In Japan we would simply turn it down. Americans do not turn it down. And now I understand them better than they understand themselves.
This cold is not an accident. This cold is a gift.
The owner has built, inside his shop, a second season. He invites you in from the brutal heat and hands you the one thing the sun has denied you all day: a reason to be cold. To endure it is to be tempered. You walk in soft and sweating. You walk out sharp and clear, a slightly stronger person than you were.
So I did not complain. I removed my outer layer and offered it to the woman at the next table, who was hugging herself. She said, "Oh, no, I'm fine, thank you." She was not fine. Her lips were blue. But she, too, understood the training. She would not break first. I respected her deeply.
The owner asked if everything was okay.
"It is perfect," I said, through my teeth, which were chattering. "Thank you for the winter."
He said, "...I can turn the AC down if you want?"
I told him no. A man does not ask the mountain to be shorter.
I stayed two hours. I ordered a hot coffee to survive. Then a second one, to hold. By the end I could no longer feel my hands, but my spirit had never been clearer.
So now, on the hottest days, I seek out the coldest rooms. I sit. I shiver. I sharpen.
And when I finally step back out into the summer heat, and it wraps around me like a warm bath, I feel it.
Reborn.
A man who has survived the winter, in August, indoors, for the price of a sandwich.
"Niles, we're lost. That's the fourth time we've passed by the pile of frankly rather tasteless sheraton armchairs."
"Yes, the style clashes with the yellow wallpaper and endless billowing void. Then again, feng shui might fail to accommodate an open floor plan this... er, OPEN"