Twitch and Amazon are apparently planning to use streams to train Generative AI.
Multiple sources tell me it will be announced in the coming months, despite some internal friction against it. Creators may be able to opt out of some training data.
@Greibach_VT LISTEN I WANT MY FRIENDS TO HAVE THE KIND OF GEAR WHERE IF ANYONE ASKS
"Are you dressed to kill (aesthetic), or are you dressed to kill (battle ready)?"
THE ANSWER SHOULD BE YES
Patrick Tse, Hong Kong actor of ‘Invincible Eight’, ‘The Comet Strikes’ and ‘Shaolin Soccer’, passes away at 89
Patrick Tse Yin, one of Hong Kong cinema’s most iconic leading men, has passed away at 89. Tse leaves behind a remarkable career spanning more than seven decades. Beginning in the 1950s, Tse became a major star of the golden age of Hong Kong film, later working as an actor, producer, writer, and director.
Read more: https://t.co/lVgcLngSic
Watch Trailers and footage from some of his most memorable performances: https://t.co/lVgcLngSic
#PatrickTse #PatrickTseYin #Obituary #kungfumovies #martialartsfilm #martialartsmovies #asianaction #hongkong #hongkongmovies
Dive into the world of Asian, action and martial arts cinema at City on Fire (cityonfire.c om) – your hub for breaking news, in-depth reviews, and the latest 4K Ultra HD and Blu-ray drops! #CityOnFire
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There is a diner in the Tennessee mountains where a little girl showed me a book.
She could not have been six. She held it the way grown men hold the deed to a house.
A thin paperback. The cover soft and bent from love. A cartoon bear.
I asked her, to be kind, if it was a good book.
She said, "The Book Lady sent it. She sends me one every month. She knows my name."
Then she went back to her pancakes, as if she had not just described something impossible.
I could not let it go.
All through breakfast I turned it over. A woman who knows the names of small children, sends them books, and asks for nothing. In my country she would have a shrine. Incense. One clean day a year when the town remembers her.
I decided the Book Lady must be a gentle fiction. A story mothers invent, the way we tell children the old mountain is watching, so they behave.
I was wrong.
The Book Lady is real. She is the most famous woman in the state. Her name is Dolly.
I made errors. In a hardware store I called her "your empress." The man thought about it honestly and said, "Close enough."
I asked a waitress if Dolly was still living. She set down the coffee pot with great care. "Honey, Dolly will outlive us all, and then she will send flowers to the funerals."
Then they told me the thing, all of them, in the flat voice this country keeps for facts too large to raise the voice for.
Dolly grew up one of twelve children, in a one-room cabin, in these same mountains. Her father could not read a word his whole life.
So she built the thing that sends the books. Not the clever children. Not the deserving ones. Every child who signs up, from birth until they start school, free, their own name on the cover, whether the family has money or nothing at all.
The children do not know she is famous. They know only the Book Lady. Some will grow old and never learn it was her.
Two hundred million books, a man told me at a gas pump. Then, seeing the number had defeated me, he made it smaller and heavier at once.
"She did it for her daddy," he said. "He never got to read. So she made sure every child after him would."
I would like to tell you what happened in my chest when he said that. I do not have the words, and I distrust any man who claims he does.
I come from eight hundred years of men who wrote everything down. We cut our names into stone so the centuries could not misplace us.
My father was the last of that line before me. A silent man. For forty years I believed his silence was the only thing he ever gave me.
In that diner, I remembered something I had put away as nothing.
When I was a boy, my father worked among machines loud enough to take a man's hearing, and in time they took most of his. He came home each night with nothing left to say. But there was one year, when I was learning to read and ashamed of how badly it went, that every night, however late he came in, he sat beside me while I read one page aloud.
He never said a word. I thought he was only checking that I had done the work.
It took me forty years and a stranger's diner to understand.
He could not hear me. By then he could barely hear anything. He was not listening to the words. He could not have caught one of them.
He was only sitting where a small boy could look up and see that his father had stayed.
I carried that year my whole life as proof my father was cold.
It was the warmest thing anyone has ever done for me. I just never had the book to prove it, so I let myself forget.
There is a bookshop two doors from that diner. I have just bought a thin paperback with a soft-looking bear on the cover. I am mailing it tonight to my father in Japan. He is eighty-one. He still cannot hear.
He will not need to.
Inside the cover I wrote one line, large enough that he can read it without his glasses:
"I finished the page. I always finished the page. Thank you for staying."
The Book Lady learned it from her father, who could not read.
I learned it from mine, who could not hear.
And somewhere in the mountains between us, those two old men would have understood each other completely, and said nothing at all, which is the loudest thing men like them have ever known how to say.
Japan's Ministry of Justice has released draft AI guidelines stating that a person's voice is protected under existing law as part of their identity
As one example, the guidance says using AI to recreate a voice actor's voice without permission to sing a song created by someone else, then monetizing it on social media, could constitute rights infringement
Final guidelines are expected in August
Me: minding my own business, making swords or practicing with them
Some guy: walks in like an idiot and gets stabbed by accident
Me: "oh my God, where's the first aid kit?!"
The idiot guy: "you're hot"
what
Me: standing by a firepit, wielding a hammer, trying to make a sword or something
The ladies: "yes, this is the person to go to about my boy troubles"
Me: "why"
Instagram now allows anyone to use your public photos to create AI images.
Here's how to opt out:
1. Click Profile.
2. Click 3 Bars in the top right.
3. Scroll Down.
4. Click Sharing and Reuse.
5. Toggle off AI Features for Post + Reels.
Happy anniversary to the game that ruined my sleep schedule despite never playing because all the girls who DID play would call me at 3am or some other ungodly hour, crying about they missed their pixel husbando's phone call or something 😅
You know that Life has a nasty sense of humor when you are a certified dating sim hater and yet you get recruited to work on them specifically because you are a hater with a background in human-computer-interaction.
@succbees@ailuvewe Ikesen had friendships between the guys that were more fun than the romances, but don't play for historical accuracy.
I got dragged into that fandom by friends who liked watching me facepalm over... basically everything 😅
@succbees@ailuvewe Its been ages since I've played but, if I recall correctly, events are free to join, and the paid events are either a flat fee, or a CAPPED gacha, so if you want to collect all event items, you can, but you won't be spending an unlimited amount of money to get everything.
@Scrubings All the male vtubers I watch are mainly himbos or wholesome gremlins.
They do NOT do GFE, and they tend to have a comfy mixed audience that's drawn to funcle, step dad, or big bro types. They mainly goof off, but can give advice.