🤮

[j nova @jnova_mp3]

see my problem is i want my bitch to make me feel the way a percocet do

[Porthox - The Last Errant @porthox1]

In case you missed it, here's 10 seconds of tactical combat from yesterday's trailer ;)

[Fortune MMXM @FortuneMMXM]

I watched this 15years ago, but never knew it was a hack to life

[Porthox - The Last Errant @porthox1]

Your cards don’t stay the same.

Your mind doesn’t either.

The Last Errant is a tactical roguelike deckbuilder where cards mutate, positioning matters, and your sanity affects everything.

Free demo available on Steam.
First gameplay after 2 years of solo development:

[heh @coldinchrome]

if mexico wins i better see the mexicanas shaking ass posting feet and popping titties

[Iqra @AiWithIqra]

“…It is like darkness and cold: a word invented by man to describe the absence of God. God did not create evil. Evil is not faith or love, which exist like light and warmth. Evil is the result of the absence of divine love in the human heart…”

[The Curious Tales @thecurioustales]

🚨 The most dangerous discovery in human history would be understanding what we actually are.

Every consciousness researcher faces the same terrifying possibility: we might not be what we think we are at all.

The evidence has been accumulating for decades, but science keeps burying it under technical jargon and statistical noise. Near death experiences where patients with flatlined brains describe surgical procedures happening floors away. Remote viewing experiments producing results that would revolutionize physics if they happened in particle accelerators instead of psychology labs. The Global Consciousness Project detecting coordinated patterns in random number generators worldwide during major events, as if human attention creates measurable effects in physical systems.

But the most unsettling data comes from quantum mechanics itself. The measurement problem reveals that particles exist in superposition until consciousness collapses the wave function. Without conscious observers, reality never actualizes from possibility into definite states. Information theorists have calculated that the universe requires conscious observation to transform potential into experience.

We're not biological machines that evolved awareness. We're conscious beings temporarily animating physical forms.

Think of it as cosmic method acting. You've been playing your character so convincingly that you've forgotten you're performing. The body, the personality, the entire human storyline feels absolutely real while you're immersed in the role. But what if you stepped back from the performance and remembered what you actually are underneath?

The brain isn't generating consciousness any more than a television generates the signal it receives. It's a reducing valve, filtering infinite awareness down to the narrow bandwidth a physical nervous system can process. This explains why meditators who suppress brain activity report expanded awareness rather than diminished consciousness. Less neural interference allows more of the signal through.

Ancient traditions understood this completely. They described reality as a drama where souls temporarily forget their true nature to experience limitation, separation, and physical existence. The forgetting is intentional. Without it, the drama couldn't function.

But now science is accidentally rediscovering what mystics always knew. Consciousness studies are proving that individual minds are expressions of something vast and unified. Telepathy experiments show information transmission beyond known physical mechanisms. Studies of identical twins separated at birth reveal behavioral synchronicities that suggest non-local connection between minds.

The emerging picture is radical: individual consciousness is like a wave that thinks it's separate from the ocean. The sense of being an isolated self inside a biological machine is the fundamental illusion holding physical reality together.

And that illusion is starting to crack.

As more minds recognize their true nature, the collective agreement maintaining consensus reality begins destabilizing. When enough actors remember they're performing, the entire production faces collapse.

Maybe this explains why consciousness research progresses so slowly despite massive funding and brilliant minds working on it. Every major breakthrough gets explained away, buried in academic journals, or dismissed as anomalous data. The universe seems to have built in protection mechanisms against too much self awareness happening too quickly.

Consider what would actually happen if consciousness got solved completely. If we proved definitively that minds are temporary expressions of eternal awareness, that death is simply changing costumes between acts, that reality is a shared lucid dream we're collectively constructing moment by moment.

The implications would shatter every human institution. Economics depends on scarcity and survival fears. Politics depends on tribal identity and conflict. Religion depends on mystery and authority. Education depends on the assumption that knowledge accumulates in biological storage systems called brains.

All of it collapses once we remember we're immortal beings playing temporary roles in an infinite drama.

This might be why the mystery stays mysterious. The cosmic drama depends on the actors staying in character.

Wake up too many performers at once, and you don't get enlightenment.

You get the end of the show.

Some truths are too dangerous for reality to survive knowing them.

But the research continues anyway, creeping closer to the revelation that could either transform human civilization or dissolve it entirely.

The question isn't whether we'll solve consciousness.

The question is whether reality can handle the solution.

[Abdulkadir | Cybersecurity @cyber_razz]

A both funny and educational meme. Let me explain:

In the first panel, Joey is excited because the hotel’s “free Wi-Fi” is extremely fast. Anyone who has stayed in hotels knows their Wi-Fi is usually slow, overloaded, and frustrating. So when a connection suddenly feels blazing fast, it feels like you got lucky.

In the second panel, Joey checks his device and notices his IP address starts with 172.16.42.x. His expression instantly changes to shock — because that number means something very specific in cybersecurity.

That IP range is the well-known default network configuration used by a device called a WiFi Pineapple.

A WiFi Pineapple is a portable penetration-testing tool that attackers can use to create rogue Wi-Fi access points. It can imitate legitimate networks … like a hotel’s Wi-Fi and trick nearby devices into connecting to it instead of the real network.

Once your device connects, the attacker effectively becomes the network in the middle, allowing them to observe or manipulate traffic passing through it. This is a classic Man in the Middle (MitM) attack.

The reason the connection feels “fast” is simple: you’re probably one of the few people connected to it, and the attacker is letting your traffic pass through so they can monitor it.

So if you ever connect to public Wi-Fi and notice an IP address like 172.16.42.x, there’s a good chance you’re not actually on the hotel’s network…. you might be connected to a rogue hotspot controlled by someone else.

[𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚌 𝙲𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚜 🍄 @anactualwalnut]

I watched my dad give up on chemo, become a skeleton, become unable to move, refuse to go to the hospital despite all this so any time he was asleep I checked to make sure he was still breathing, eventually he went to the hospital, I stayed with him in triage, they took him into the ICU, I waited until 1am when they were done with him to be able to see him, I went home to sleep bc he was exhausted, came to see him the next day, but I only got about 15 total minutes with him because they kept taking him to do other stuff, I went home, got a call at 8am the next morning, when I arrived he was already in a coma and flatlined about 20 min later.

I don’t really remember essentially the entire year after that. I was in a walking coma. Part of me died that day, too. But part of me also woke up. I’m kinder. I’m more emotional. I’m more grateful. And I’m much more sentimental.

Part of me didn’t survive that day, but the parts that did love so much deeper.

[定 @de3dsoul]

James Bond 007: Nightfire (2002)

[magnus @magnushambleton]

I chose the green door ninety-three days ago.

At the time, it seemed obviously correct. Not even a close call. The red door offered two billion dollars immediately—a sum so large it would solve every material problem I'd ever face, fund any project I could imagine, and still leave enough to give away amounts that would meaningfully change thousands of lives. But two billion is a number. It has a fixed relationship to the economy, to the things money can buy, to the world.

The green door offered one dollar that doubles every day.

I remember standing there, doing the mental math. Day 30: about a billion dollars. Day 40: over a trillion. Day 50: a quadrillion. The red door would be surpassed before the first month ended, and after that, the gap would grow incomprehensibly fast. Choosing the red door would be like choosing a ham sandwich over a genie's lamp because you were hungry right now.

So I walked through the green door.

The first few weeks were unremarkable. I had a dollar, then two, then four. By day ten I had $512, which felt like finding money in an old jacket. By day twenty I had over a million, and I started getting calls from financial advisors I'd never contacted. By day thirty-one I had crossed the two-billion threshold—officially richer than I would have been behind the red door.

I didn't understand what was happening until around day sixty.

The money, you see, had to exist somewhere. Not philosophically—I mean physically. Digitally. When I checked my bank balance, a computer somewhere had to store that number. And storing the number 2^n requires n bits.

One bit per day. That's it. That's the rate at which my fortune's representation grows. A linear function. Almost comically modest.

But here's what I'd failed to understand about exponential growth: the value doesn't care about the representation. The bits grow linearly. The dollars they encode grow exponentially. And dollars make claims on the physical world.

Day sixty. My balance: 2^60 dollars. About 1.15 quintillion. Roughly 1,000 times the entire global GDP. The number itself required only 60 bits to store—less than a tweet, less than this sentence, trivially small from an information-theoretic perspective.

But money is not information. Money is a claim.

The calls started coming from the Treasury Department. Polite, confused, increasingly frantic. They explained that the M2 money supply of the United States was approximately 21 trillion dollars. I now held about 15,000 times that amount. When I tried to spend any of it—even a tiny fraction—the transaction represented a claim on more goods and services than the entire human economy had ever produced in its history.

"The number in your account," a Treasury official said, "is not meaningful."

"It's in your computer," I replied.

"The computer," she said carefully, "does not understand what the number represents."

Day seventy-five. 2^75 dollars. I could purchase—in principle—roughly 350 million copies of the entire Earth's annual economic output. The representation remained elegant: 75 bits. Nine and a half bytes. I could write my net worth on a Post-it note in binary.
But representations aren't wealth. Wealth is factories, farmland, human labor, time, attention, atoms arranged into useful configurations. And I had laid claim to more atoms than existed.

This is where it gets strange.

The global financial system is, at its core, a system of ledgers. Distributed, reconciled, audited. When the Federal Reserve's systems recorded my balance, and Chase's systems recorded my balance, and the IRS's systems recorded my balance, those numbers had to match. And they did match—trivially, easily, using a handful of bytes each.

But then the systems tried to do things with the number.

Calculate taxes owed. Assess systemic risk. Determine what fraction of GDP was held by a single individual. Run inflation models. Price assets in a market that now included a participant with claims exceeding the value of all other claims combined.
Day eighty-two. The S&P 500 became undefined. Not zero, not infinity—undefined. My proportional ownership of the market, if I chose to exercise it, exceeded 100%. The shares I could theoretically purchase outnumbered the shares that existed. Financial models divide by market cap; market cap now included a term that broke the arithmetic.

Day eighty-five. The International Monetary Fund published a paper titled "On the Representability of Post-Scarcity Claims." It concluded that exchange rates could no longer be calculated because the dollar itself had become paradoxical—simultaneously the world's reserve currency and a unit of measurement that had lost all meaning.

My balance on day eighty-five: 2^85 dollars. Still just 85 bits. About ten and a half bytes.
The representation remained trivial. The reality it pointed to had become impossible.

Day ninety. I tried to buy a coffee.

The transaction failed. Not because of insufficient funds, not because of a technical error, but because the payment system could not determine a meaningful exchange rate. My card represented a claim on approximately 10^27 dollars. The coffee cost $4.50. The ratio between these numbers—the percentage of my wealth the coffee would cost—was so small that it rounded to zero in every floating-point system on Earth. I could not pay because the act of payment required representing a number smaller than any computer could distinguish from nothing.

I offered to pay in cash. I had a twenty.

The barista looked at me like I'd offered to pay with a seashell.

"Where did you get physical currency?" she asked.
That's when I realized: I had broken cash too. The Treasury had stopped printing bills three weeks earlier. Why maintain physical currency when one account holder could—at any moment—claim more dollars than had ever been printed in human history? The symbolic relationship between paper and value had always been a polite fiction, but my existence had made the fiction impossible to maintain.

Day ninety-three. Today.

My balance is 2^93 dollars: approximately 10^28. About 10 billion times the estimated value of all assets on Earth. The representation requires 93 bits. Twelve bytes. Smaller than my name.

The economy hasn't collapsed, exactly. People still trade, still work, still produce. But they've stopped using dollars. They've had to. A currency in which one person holds virtually infinite units is not a currency at all—it's a monopoly ticket that everyone has silently agreed to stop playing with.

I keep thinking about what money actually is. It's not the bits. The bits are trivial; they always were. It's not even the paper or the gold or the entries in a ledger. Money is a shared agreement about who has claims on what. A story we tell together about value and exchange and debt.

I broke the story.

Not through violence, not through fraud, not through any action more dramatic than walking through a door and watching a number tick upward. Just by existing. Just by holding a claim that grew faster than the world's ability to honor it.

The red door offered two billion dollars. A large but finite claim. A claim that fit within the story, that could be exchanged and spent and taxed and inherited. A claim the world could accommodate.

The green door offered something else entirely: a claim that would grow until it consumed all other claims, until the very concept of claiming became incoherent.

I still have the 93 bits. They're sitting on a server somewhere, humming along, doubling quietly at midnight. By next week they'll represent more dollars than there are atoms in the observable universe.

And I still can't buy a coffee.

[AM.B @bmaaenir]

ma vision de l’amour: lui fan de moi qui cède à tous mes caprices et moi la star qui a juste a être sa petite muse

[Massimo @Rainmaker1973]

Xiaoma, a polyglot, was invited to give a speech at a high school for Language Week, and he delivered the entire speech in Gen Alpha slang.

[🤮 @sousprise]

@levelsio As true as devastating

[Artur - Library of Ohara @newworldartur]

Special short of Luffy at the Lakers game. Animators unknown but some think it could be Ishitani/Soty given the style

[Sinnoh🌙 @sinnoh_CEO]

everyone's most wanted christmas presents at one point

[Autism Capital 🧩 @AutismCapital]

This is probably one of the top 5 best tweets ever posted.