Questions you need the answer to.

Yeah, 10% is about the highest I like in cheap beer in cans — anything much above and I just get wasted way too quickly.

Although some brewers are able to make beers with rather a lot of alcohol in it that are very delicious; I've found they tend to serve the super-high ABV ones in smaller glasses, and pretty much discourage people from having seven pints of their imperial stout or whatever in a sitting.

Here's an ODD QUESTION: Does anyone know off a good free online source for a basic English translation of the book of Psalms that can be easily formatted to fit onto 3x5 index cards?

I suppose Guttenberg Project is the one that's going to have a text-only format that I'd probably get a chance to write a little script (in Python or just BASH+GNU utilities) to format it for me, but my abuse of technology to create a little set of cribs to help me with the vulgate-latin Liber Psalmorum has so far left me very frustrated by my lack of ability at typesetting things using word processors and so forth.

I'm certain I'm not the only person in history, even recent history, who has had to improvise some ugly-looking-but-functional solution for this.

The whole idea is so that I can keep using my edition of the Liber psalmorum, which is a very handy, thin paperback with easy-to-read text, and sort of intersperse the pages with some of the English text.

The specific translation doesn't really matter very much to me, just for use as a crib when I get stuck on a word or a specific use of a word which I can't quite remember. I just hate the method of pencilling in little translations by hand above each word, like you see in 99.9999% of the Latin texts at any given library.

And no phone apps. That just won't do.

WELL, I don't think that question is really going to have any answerers, but this is a site that puts the Latin verse-by-verse with, I think, the Douay-Rheims English translation. It's not formatted or anything, for my needs, but maybe it would be a good programming challenge to scrape the website, process the text, and come up with an output more-or-less useful to me.

That's an awful lot of programming for such a limited task, but it might come in handy later to have that as a tool I can use for other things later.

Probably just end up copying and pasting in the end, a LOT, but that's OK, I guess.

I've done worse laborious tasks for similar tasks, like cribbing out Horace or Homer, and the Psalms are pretty entertaining to me as literary statements.

HERE'S a REAL QUESTION: What's the best way to measure voltage potential from across a standard .... actually, not standard TRS stereo/balanced 1/8" jacked cabled — the output is from a notebook computer, and it's a combined mic/output 1/8" connector.

So, I have problems with clipping on the small outboard speakers (not anything good — they were about ten dollars us, but still good enough for portability/disposability)

I don't think smplayer as a front-end to mplayer2 or mpv is causing any problems.

Nah, I was just playing some Aretha albums with a lot of dynamic range, and even a a low (to me) volume, when I go the fifteen feet to the keys, there's major clipping and digital artifacts that seem to correspond to when the tune "heats up" and I amble over to my front room.

SO, what I'd like to do is measure the (three-or-four-channel) voltage of this little phone jack, and I wonder if (i) I should bother and (ii) yeah, I guess I'm about an EET level of formal training, and I think I can look up dB and distance and run the numbers, although not easily with so many connections.

I ask the viewer at home: What would you do? Live with it (I have lots of big speakers and amplifiers at my place, it's just a matter of convenience). Fix it/troubleshoot it? Or go live in a cave or whatever.

QUESTION

Now here this, citizens.

I'm dead serious.

So when I ask Nat__ie out this week (if there's a good chance to, which there may not be), let's say on our way out to the parking lot I say "I've only got forty bucks cash until payday — had a bunch of bills this week — and condoms are pretty pricey. Should I get those first, or are you good to go?"

No, I'm not joking. That's something I would say, and she would get the humor in it, being not a nerd.

It would be a better conversation if we were sharing a ride together — that's the only scenario that seems appropriate — but I don't trust her to get me back to the warehouse parking lot, and unless she's an idiot, which I don't think she is, she's likely not riding off in some guy's panel van Toyota Camry to go get liquored up at a dive bar.

I think it's a funny line, and I'm keeping it in reserve. She is cool and has a wicked sense of humor, so IMHO, it's fine. Sort of a joke, but also absolutely true.

IMHO she's cool enough to know that there's a good chance the day/evening might end up that way, but also cool enough to know it's a bit of a spoof on what bullshit square shit dating is.

Quote:

---

Originally posted by Jizzelbin

Oh, same question, but different spin, different girl.

What could possibly go wrong with my saying to Natalie, "Hey, I'm going to breakfast after work, and I think you should probably come with."

I don't have a problem with asking women out, it's just making them say "Yes" that's no so much probably good.

Should probably bring a change of clothes.

---

I'll answer my own question.

The appropriate question to Na___ie is: "you're coming out for some beers and shoot some pool after work, right?"

That bastard shift supervisor keeps us on opposite sides of the warehouse, I know it.

But, still, that is the correct answer.

NEVER MIND ALL THAT SHIT WTF IS WRONG W U PEOPLE ARCHER IS ON!!!!!!

Yeah, so my question WTF is wrong w u people b/c Archer is on...well, it's been on. Or up. We're not doing phrasing.

And it's fucking awesome. Alien and Aliens into one.

Well, the season is young.

So I must defer my questions about tie-rod ends and proper shade-tree sway-bar repairs until...

ARCHER!!!!!!!!!!!

Quote:

---

Originally posted by Jizzelbin

Quote:

---

Originally posted by Jizzelbin

Oh, same question, but different spin, different girl.

What could possibly go wrong with my saying to Natalie, "Hey, I'm going to breakfast after work, and I think you should probably come with."

I don't have a problem with asking women out, it's just making them say "Yes" that's no so much probably good.

Should probably bring a change of clothes.

---

I'll answer my own question.

The appropriate question to Na___ie is: "you're coming out for some beers and shoot some pool after work, right?"

That bastard shift supervisor keeps us on opposite sides of the warehouse, I know it.

But, still, that is the correct answer.

---

Turns out that was the correct answer. I think I said that verbatim. She said, "Hell yeah, sounds like fun!" Me: "It is fun!"

And I'm pretty sure the shift supervisor is a little perceptive, so on her last day, indeed, Na___ie and I worked the same side of the warehouse.

Otherwise it would have been difficult — she didn't really ever "hang out" in the break room with a bunch of the rest of us at the appropriate time, so I might not have had the chance.

Why are the five years till retirement the longest years of your life?

Good question. I'm guessing that it seems like a long time because you're just waiting for an agonizing death of the mind and the body on the wrong side of the finish line?

Maybe not. It could be a slight error in perception on your part, or perhaps some of the milestones of life have been overloaded with a bunch of preconceptions that aren't necessarily accurate, or at the least, sufficiently optimistic.

I wonder why it is that it seems so difficult to stop thinking about texting or calling this girl.

Now, I made my blunder already and I dutifully refrain. But, I feel like a dog reaching the end of its chain, or Dr. Strangelove suppressing his German roots.

Patience.

Patience.

Now it sounds like I'm a damned serial killer just waiting for my prey. Bring out the gimp!

Sorry, Rube if I didn't quite give the definitive answer to your question. To be fair, while it is an interesting observation, I'm not sure a second party could really answer that for you. Short of cracking open your brain pan and running some super-sketchy tests involving electrodes, or some of the other penetrative but less drastic imaging techniques (PET, fMRI) and making a few guesses.

It's a legitimate question, which seems to have many possible interpretations as to possible answers, but clearly I can only offer some best guesses in an off-the-cuff manner.

Here's a fun question which, I suppose will be equally lacking in a definitive answer, but just how far did I screw up my budding relationship with my girl du jour by unloading on her via text with complaints about my gimp leg while pretty toasted on whiskey?

I could try to copy over some of the actual texts, but it just involved a string of profanities and general bitchiness. Nothing about her or anything insulting directed at anyone. Just being a drunken ass venting via text.

Seemed like a good idea at the time.

Of course it wasn't, but it seemed OK — you know, none of my friends whom I know better IRL are immune from me occasionally ranting like a foul-mouthed mental case. Not regularly, but once in a great while.

On the one hand, if one observes that during the beginning stages of getting to know somebody, everybody is on his or her best behavior, I'd prefer the brass tacks honesty. There's no surprises for her in the future, and I've made peace with myself that I can just be a little outrageous verbally.

If that's the nail in the coffin of my love life, then that's fine: we wouldn't have had much of a future together anyway.

And I apologized and said it won't happen again. Which is true. I think if she reads very literally my last apologetic text, she'll likely notice that I fully intend to respect her privacy and to be protective of her time and energy, to the extent I'm involved in that aspect of her life and work.

OTOH, while that is a good last impression to make on her, as well as having started off with very good first impressions, that doesn't cancel out, I'm sure, the intermediary phase of a controlled chaos or morass.

If anything, that's one more reason for her to approach with caution: and, she is, quite rightly, a little cautious about revealing too much about her personal details besides what is normal for casual conversation. Very wise of her: after all, she doesn't know me that well, and she knows from work that I am plenty strong and capable of doing some serious physical damage, if I were inclined to.

I'd hope she would know that could never happen, but it's still a reason to be circumspect and, at a minimum, see me again a time or two more in public, just to observe for any red flags. You know, being rude to wait-staff or getting shit-faced and then getting behind the wheel, or saying unkind things about others in general.

In that respect, I'd pass any of those metrics with flying colors, being not a complete asshole. Just a part-time one. A friendly ass! A talking ass! A regular Baal's donkey!

All signs are "go," as in green-light, when she's done with some horrific long days taking care of some short-term projects.

And, she did reply to me via text, concerned that I would think she was "ghosting" me, or just giving me the hi-hat.

At least when we last met, she was not giving me the old "Yeah, we should totally hang out again sometime." It was a genuine, "Yes, I had fun and I'd like to see you again." Lots of eye contact. She could have been lying, but I don't think so.

But, tying this back to the perception of time: you know, I'm not so sure if next week or the week after she's going to remember that we had a good time just talking for three solid hours, and that it wasn't a one-sided conversation at all.

Well, I'm just going to have to chill out and wait. Pretty much it's her move, since I think I abused my texting privileges (according to my standards).

Oh well, at least we had a good first date, and it's certainly her prerogative to continue with me or not. Wouldn't make me happy if the latter, but it's certainly not my decision to make, and that would be the end of that. Without any prejudice or ill-will directed at her at all. I mean, in many respects, I can be mature and emotionally aware, as well as empathetic.

WHAT in the motherfucking shit is THIS motherfucking bullshit?

I shlep out to Walmart to buy a new 2TB HDD, using Microsoft Rewards gift cards, and I think...hmmm, this "bicycle" pump looks better than that shit at Target and is the same price.

Excuse me.

What fucking arcane trick am I missing, when trying to pump up my Marine Air Horn to 100 psi, using a bog-standard Schrader valve (same as on a car tire or a bike tire and so forth).

This shit is fucking ridiculous.

Seriously. Am I missing something here?

Hey! Here's a good fucking question: whatever happened to Froody Blue Gem?

I was kind of proud that she might have found an alternate spot for her unique contributions.

And, no, I didn't creep on her or anything: I took her at her word that she was a college student in her twenties, but, still, I valued her contributions and she and I traded a shit load of PMs (not of a salacious nature).

What did you people do to her, anyway?

I blame you!

Well, I'm sure she's just moved on from MBTI to enneagrams or something, but it was nice having someone new to play with.

Feh, now I'll have to subdue and coerce some others to join this coven.

Here's a real QUESTION:

I know nobody will know for sure, but somebody must have a gut intuition about this.

So, obviously, on the job, I've developed severe tendonitis of one of the tendons holding my right foot together, basically.

Swelling, internal inflammation, nearly constant pain.

Yet, I still come into work, thanks to a massive dose of ibuprofen and a muscle relaxant in the morning.

I bought some athletic tape at the drug-store today, and asked for a separate receipt.

And I am seeing my internist doctor next week for recommendations and treatment — perhaps a prescription for high-dosage ibuprofen, or a different muscle relaxant. Whatever he suggests.

I want my company to pay my doctor, and to pay for associated equipment.

What do you think the chances of that are?

I'll sue them if necessary: they certainly have a team of lawyers, but they'd be foolish to think I do not have access through family connections to excellent counsel.

If they say "fuck off," I can certainly suggest to a few people I know who still have their hand in local journalism that the general manager of my location will be named in the local press, and given an opportunity to repeat his dismissal for the press.

Basically my attitude is: "Fuck you, pay my health care costs, and I don't want any bullshit about it, you fucking white stain pieces of innumerate, illiterate shit."

Of course, language will be moderated, and I insist on every promise made in writing, preferably with a notarized signature.

Good idea?

Likely to work?

Likely to get me accidentally "disappeared" from employment?

N.B., I am not asking for any legal advice — I'm just polling here and among some RL friends and coworkers for their opinions.

I'm pretty well fixed on what's what with an employer's WC insurance, and all that, and what I'd have to do, I'm just unsure if it's worth the effort, the red-tape, and being put on "this guy better not shit sideways on the job or we're going to fuck him on the sidewalk in broad daylight" list.

A couple hundred bucks for a doctor's visit, some athletic tape — if they're not stupid (which they are), they'll just pay the bills I send them.

So, tomorrow, I'll file an incident report, and, since it's been a few weeks, note the progressive nature of the tendonitis and the date it began.

And they'd better fucking sign it and give me a copy, or else...or else....well, they'd just better do it, because I said so.

So, I found what I was looking for at Walmart today.

Part of my genius plan to avoid depending on the false security of a so-called slip-proof mat for use in the shower.

Namely, some "flip-flop" style sandals, constructed of some kind of rubber and with a hard plastic thong that secures the sole to the spot between the largest toe and the one adjacent to.

Feeling frisky, I decided to triage my mailbox outside and grab something from the car.

REMIND ME AGAIN how in the fuck is a human being supposed to walk in these horrors?

They are fucking awful.

I suppose if it were a choice between burning coals barefoot and these, they could be helpful.

Otherwise, no.

Bad shoes.

Well, this is a weird synchronous event: I've been thinking for the past few days about what a PITA it is to deal with the dust from Flamin' Hot Cheetos (or perhps other vairieties) that gets stuck on one's fingers. I usually rinse my hands in water.

HOWEVER, on some other board apparently certain deviants want to know what the

residue should be called. I don't care about that — it's just crumbs in quantity.

HOWEVER I submit as a QUESTION to you: several days ago I came up with the ultimate solution. The Vernichtung, if you will, of sticky fingers.

Put the bunch of stuff in a bowl, and use a spoon and perhaps another utensil.

I'm not a super genius, but QUESTION that is still the geniusest idea. Ne serait-il pas?

Simple, but brilliant. Yes indeed.

I agree! However, now I wonder if this is not the sort of food for which one designed chopsticks.

Think about it, won't you?

Yes, indeed. Roland Barthes and others mainstreamed nipponophilia, and yet, the Caustic Empire only seems to have fans among certain Western groups — linguists, historians, nerds, historians, gamers, historians.

It would be very good to use Chinese chopsticks to daintily manfully grasp each Cheeto and bring it to one's mouth.

Spoon and other spoon seems not as delicate....er....manly....er....correct.

When an old girlfriend sends you, via Facebook Messenger, a video of Blood, Sweat and Tears performing "I Love You More Than You'll Ever Know" at Woodstock, that probably means something, right?

Yeah. Assuming you want an answer, yes.

It is possible that her FB account was compromised — an old childhood friend sent me an odd link to something strange, and it was indeed a misdirect.

You know, sometimes people get lucky and do a bit of surf-and-turf on low-stakes accounts like on FB and stuff.

I'd probably do like I usually do and give her a PM and say, "Cool link, man, WTH's up, anyway!"

That's the surefire test.

I use fucking crazy-ass passwords for all my shit, and yet some asshole got one of my Reddit accounts: how? I don't know, but it must have taken days of brute-forcing for some unknown reason.

So, yeah it means something if she was the sender: it means she was either drunk or horny or both. OR, it was a mistake.

If she wasn't the sender, then it's a perfectly pedestrian reason: just some random person testing out his or her coding skills.

ETA And, no, it wasn't me. I am indeed a "random coder," but that's not a thing I would even consider a worthwhile activity.

OK, here's a question that actually has an answer:

Q: Who are those animal abusers who allow their dogs to run amok and inspire similar responses among their fellow canides (or whatever the term is)?
A: The same people who are fucking dickheads when driving.

I really do think it's a perfect bijection.

ACTUALLY, I think for once I came up with a real question.

RET's question was good, but I think the answer has been given.

Rubs nails against his lapel. And I think I answered it. It was a good question.

SO...it's difficult to state exactly. But one of the bartenders at a place I spend maybe six or seven hours at per week is, obviously known-to-her, an attractive young woman.

Equally obvious should be that (i) she knows exactly who I am, where I live, what music I like, etc., just like all the other regulars (ii) I'm not secretly lusting to penetrate her.

This is the problem: she's given no indication that she thinks I think (ii), and has always treated me like a good regular customer.

I got a weird vibe from her today: I'm pretty sure she knows my regular schedule just like all the others, I just came down to use the cabbies' gas station before I ran out of money this week and wanted to practice some pool.

Yes, she's an attractive enough woman, but she knows me well enough to know that we don't have anything much in common, and that I've been a bit shnockered enough in there that I probably would have tried to do something about it.

No. There's no possible latent interest from me to her, other than that I like her company as a bartender.

She knows this, she knows me well enough to know exactly what car repairs I had done last week, and she can read my mind well enough to say, "You want some quarters for the pool table, John?" And she knows exactly what I do for a living, what kind of car I drive, and more importantly my various strikes and attempts with women recently, from my current job or even various women I converse with at the bar.

She certainly knows if there's one thing I don't do is fail to act, and pretend to be some troubadour of unrequited lust.

QUESTION: is this common to have such a fear of a "accidentally on-purpose" showing up at a business just for some company?

This sounds terrible, I don't if she was on her monthlies or what, but I just got such a weird vibe from her today.

And this month, speaking of, until the fourth calendar quarter, is really going to be a difficult time for me to get through.

So, she knows that I know that she's working tomorrow, because we chatted a bit about the football games (and she was kind of snippy about me asking, even though she knows that I know).

But if I wake up tomorrow and feel like having some breakfast and maybe a beer or just coffee, since I don't start until 0930, is she going to keep giving off these weird vibes like I'm some creeper?

CONCLUSION it's been many, many times where I show up at like 0700 or soon thereafter and she and I are the only people in the place, except for the drunk cook in the kitchen, maybe. So, no, obviously it's nothing innate. Well, not "many, many" times, but occasionally, and it's never been a problem, and we never had anything but just polite, friendly chit-chat, if at all.

QUESTION So what was different about today? She almost treated like a stranger, or somebody who was trying to upskirt her dress! And, no, I'm not interested in her that way, and I've never done anything to suggest otherwise.

TENTATIVE CONCLUSION She's got some added stress in her life, and maybe the shaving wounds on my face were a little off-putting, or she's on the rag, or she had a fight with her boyfriend. How the fuck should I know.

QUESTION So, should I NOT go in before work tomorrow to get some breakfast and a coffee, given that I really would prefer to be in a familiar place than just sitting at home chain-smoking cigarettes and waiting until I decide it's the correct hour to leave given the traffic conditions?

Yeah, I say, why not. It's what I'd do anyway, given the circumstances, and she's not exactly a friend of mine or nothing.

ETA Well, that was a not much a very good question. It's hard to describe: yeah, me none of us are friends, at the bar, but over a year plus I know lots about them and they know lots about me.

It's sort of like an online forum, except IRL and with libations.

So, you understand, it's easy to confuse emotions or responses with something more personal.

My short conclusion is that it's nothing personal on her part, and she just was having one of those days.

Quote:

---

Originally posted by Jizzelbin

Here's a fun question which, I suppose will be equally lacking in a definitive answer, but just how far did I screw up my budding relationship with my girl du jour by unloading on her via text with complaints about my gimp leg while pretty toasted on whiskey?

I could try to copy over some of the actual texts, but it just involved a string of profanities and general bitchiness. Nothing about her or anything insulting directed at anyone. Just being a drunken ass venting via text.

Seemed like a good idea at the time.

Of course it wasn't, but it seemed OK — you know, none of my friends whom I know better IRL are immune from me occasionally ranting like a foul-mouthed mental case. Not regularly, but once in a great while.

On the one hand, if one observes that during the beginning stages of getting to know somebody, everybody is on his or her best behavior, I'd prefer the brass tacks honesty. There's no surprises for her in the future, and I've made peace with myself that I can just be a little outrageous verbally.

If that's the nail in the coffin of my love life, then that's fine: we wouldn't have had much of a future together anyway.

---

Oh, and the answer is "yes, definitively."

Yeah, she did respond with this whole unasked-for, unwanted "explanatory" text, which is good for her, I guess, but I'm not going to run her reputation down just for a thrill.

Wasn't a good match: some voodoo-queen complaining about texts and hoodoo and some wanna-be hard-boiled cat who just was looking for some kicks.

What'd I say?

Better sooner than later, find that out.

Anyway, that was months ago and I don't remember her much at all.

All right here is a stupid and NSFW question.

So, I've been paired with....I wouldn't say "good" in all cases, but they were much like Hank Quinlan.

Some kinds of women.

And, yes, it is true.

I'm going to spoiler-box (eh...) the real question just because, well, just because I feel like it.

OTOH, fuck it.

WTH are all these women wanting me to penetrate them when I know for damned sure they don't get their big "O" off it.

Trust me, most women I've been with don't care so much about their private pleasure: they're with you because they want to be there.

There've been exceptions, irrelavant details, but that's just in the past.

ANSWER: No, I don't think I understand women as much as I thought I did.

And I'm not a young man anymore.

I really thought I was a woman-whisperer, up until now.

No.

That's just one thing I'm never going to be able to understand.

I guess my question is, women actually like men digging tunnels in their vajay-jay?

Yeah, in my experience, they are super into it.

Why?

Hell if I know.

WHY do I smell rotting garbage at home, at my desk, where my wife lives, and where my children go to sleep?

There are not any decaying animals in my office, AFAIK, and no visible or otherwise signs of an infestation.

Well, the HOA did .... fuck. Those shitheads. Yeah, so I had a goddamned tarp over the roofing for quite a few months last year.

Shit. Motherfuck, shit.

There could well be a decaying animal up in the fucking crawlspace.

Fuck.

This is more shit I don't want to deal with right now: work is fucking awful, I'm barely coherent most of the time, even in private life, and now I got to investigate and fix somebody else's goddamned mistake. Yet again. I do this every fucking day, fix other peoples' shit.

I swear to fucking christ I should just live out of an RV or finagle a way to buy a houseboat and just do that.

Fuck.

ETA But in brighter news, one of my bartenders and I had a fun (you know, brief, just chit-chat) conversation about Spanish language.

Which I don't know shit about. I mean, except for a few phrases and just enough to get by.

Neither does she.

I missed an opportunity to demonstrate how come that old tale about "they speak so fast" is all bullshit. I would have done in French, not being good enough in Italian or Spanish, but that was a missed opportunity to fight ignorance.

And, no, she's recently married, and it's not for me trying to get something off her.

Just, would have been a good chance for me to talk about something I know about, for low-to-no-stakes, to a person who knows me reasonably well, and ditto.

What should I do about this lone mouse I found in my bathroom? No, there's nothing I'd consider edible in there: maybe some dried vomit around the toilet.

Yes, I have no problem killing the damned thing, considering I almost caught it under a toilet plunger a few times and the plan was to smash it against the floor if I trapped it until it was smashed to bits.

I can borrow a bag of cat litter from either my parents or my sister, full of cat shit and urine, and just stash it someplace for a while. That's a decent strategy, and I'll definitely do that when it's convenient.

There's rat poison.

Also, of course, a series of spring-loaded traps.

Also, I like glue traps.

There are no empty beer cans, no food scraps anywhere except in the kitchen and at my desk (well, the floor beneath my desk).

No signs of droppings, no marks that might indicate anything in kitchen cabinets has been disturbed.

I suspect it was a lone adventurer.

I suppose I could clean up some loose papers and books, but I'm not going to do that, unless I find evidence that they've been molested by a nest-builder.

The place absolutely cannot be "sealed off" — not only does the front door open to the outside, with no way I can see to hermetically seal it. There's a fireplace with the flue shut. And there's an attic-like crawl-space/storage space over a lofted storage space in my office. The tiny door to that could, I suppose, be taped up with some kind of close wire mesh.

I say set a shitload of traps, both glue and metal-snappers, lay down rat poison, and do the cat odor thing. And, no, I'm absolutely not into owning a pet of any kind, so that's right out.

That's all I can think of.

And, no, I apologize if anyone is offended by the cruelty, but, honestly, I have no concern whatsoever about the manner in which the mouse/rat perishes, just that it does. And any companions it may have. Even the babies, if any. Sorry, but I just don't care about that kind of thing.

Fucking A.

Please explain this to me.

Riddle me this.

The hot-rodder jackasses who are total cunts weaving in and out of traffic.

Total tools.

And yet, they seem to use their turn signals. I guess because they think they're like l33t drivers or something. Whatever.

WHY do people on ordinary streets, or even parking lots, not religiously use the turn signals?

It fucking takes zero brain cycles, and, yes, who the fuck pulls up to a four-way stop and not signal their intent? Are they high? Stupid?

And, yes, they should do that in parking lots as well.

There should be no reason to doubt what another driver's intention is.

Why?

Why would you not use your signal?

You forgot? You don't know where you're going? You're flicking your bean or jacking off?

It's rigoddamneddiculous.

Well, I think I've made my peace with the mouse, since just now I saw a second one near the pile of file folders, loose papers, etc., near the fireplace.

In the middle of the day. I was burning off some shit off a cast-iron skillet in the kitchen, and just stepped into my front room to ... I can't remember...whatever. Little bastard mouse.

IN A STRANGE COINCIDENCE I went up to the grocery store not long thereafter to buy some Mucinex and some beer, and I could have sworn I saw my father walking in. I know they use my grocery store because its pharmacy is pretty good, low volume, home-town smiles, just like at Wendy's, and rewards points transfer between stores owned by the same company. So, not wanting to yell "Hey, Big John! Think fast, gimp!" I scanned around the parking lot and found my mother sitting in their car. So, anyway, we just chatted for a bit and whatever....

What was I talking about?

Oh, right, so, the mouse and shit.

I swear I did have a question.

All right, I'll cut my losses and go with a still-legitimate question, which is, if you found a few mice in your place, and had no evidence that your food stores were contaminated, it probably is a lot of effort to try to exterminate. They're still going to get in. And the traps with the "kill bar" (the old "snap traps") are fun, and my homemade recipe of broken bits of fortune cookies coated in bacon grease is nonpareil (yes, that is my contribution to pest extermination!) is pretty good, it's just not worth the effort.

Point?

Or Counterpoint?

You decide.

WHY did "Dexter Morgan" from that TV show (he was a supposedly expert serial killer nominally "with a heart of gold" and an unimpeachable code) not wear something like this? The link is to a DuPont disposable coverall made from Tyvek — waterproof, disposable, whatever.

That's what I would have done, anyway.

Oh. Well, it was just a TV show. I guess that's why.

But he should have.

OH YEAH, NEW QUESTION: WTH are "hand-pulled noodles," and why are they so good? Sounds familiar, but I've never had them.

OH YEAH, NEW QUESTION: WTH are "hand-pulled noodles," and why are they so good? Sounds familiar, but I've never had them.[/QUOTE]

Asian noodles made by taking dough and creating noodles through a beautiful process of folding and drawing. Probably best if you looked up a YouTube video, which I can't link to on my work computer.

Here's a bit of a philosophical-type question.

It seems there are a few math-phobic types on this board.

It seems to me that the royal road to becoming adept at manipulating functions, and working with matrices and transformations, and going up to ... I'd say all the way, at least through abstract algebra, reading and writing proofs of various kinds, which is where I sort of get off the boat.

Anyway, it seems to me the only barrier to entry is the willingness to do hundreds and hundreds of examples, by hand. Good tutelage was indispensable for me when I came to it in my mid-thirties, by sheer luck, really, to have been at the right place at the right time.

I still don't have much real intuition about much, but I can run the numbers by hand. Only a glimmer of an intuition about my favorite logics — various stripes of modal logics, whether you call them temporal or description logics.

Which is all I really care about, which isn't math. It's just that the style of presentation, presenting proofs, and actually doing stuff with these logical tools requires not just facility with the language of "mathematics" but in applicatio, there are quite a few areas of mathematics that one must know. Or at least understand how to manipulate, solve, and so forth. And at a higher level there are canonical algebraizations of logical structures.

So, anyway,my question is, does one agree with me that not being mathematically mature, as one says, is not a moral failing, but simply a product of not having the need to acquire the techniques, hard-won a struggle as it might be?

Oh, totally. We make decisions about what's important to us, and we have to live with the consequences.

QUESTION/POLL

Most people in the world think statistics is pretty rad (you know, probably, because it does stuff and shit), but most people on this board think statistics totally sucks ass (well, I do, anyway, I can't speak for anyone else: it's ugly, stupid, and uses a bunch of jargon which is not cool).

As in, the meat of the discipline is from probability theory which is cool, but the actual discipline, with those fucking Z tables and shit, just sucks.

Thumbs up or thumbs down to statistics, as a discipline separate from mathematics.

Hmm, never really thought about it that way. I guess thumbs up as a separate discipline, in much the same way as physics is separate from mathematics, even though you can't do physics without maths.

Quote:

---

Originally posted by Rube E. Tewesday

even though you can't do physics without maths.

---

New question. I don't know. You can make things easier by taking like the second derivative of some polynomial function or whatever.

Meh.

Still got the right-hand rule, and all these fancy drawings of vectors and shit. Like magnets and stuff, or whatever.

I'll take a wild guess and say that most physicsts don't really give a crap about mathematics.

They're all like into atoms and forces and molecules and shit.

Probably a similar relationship between statisticians and mathematicians. A statistician is like, "Wha? That fucking arrows and shit makes my pussy dry," and the mathematician is like "Fuck off, let me go deal with Platonic forms and shit, nerd."

QUESTION: do people who like fucking around with like language and shit, even at an amateur level, experience more hostility online than in the real world?

I'll say my answer: I think so. IRL, there's a very bright line between clever and stupid. I don't know about anyone else, but I can tell the difference, I like to think. Online, on the other hand, I doubt many people who might seem otherwise reasonable (it's a compound adjective, it doesn't take a hyphen) have an ability to engage.

I'm not sure the latter can be taught. Or learned.

All right, let me ask a personal question.

Am I the only person alive who fucking hates doing laundry?

I mean, think about it.

One second, you're chilling in your crib, and then eight hours later or some shit, after hefting multiple large parcels and operating heavy machinery, blammo.

Yeah, that's great.

Now I got to figure out which sheet is the fitted sheet, hang every single shirt and T-shirt up, I've got a fucking mound of mismatched socks, and an admittedly good pile of fresh shorts, which will probably mildew before I get around to sorting and folding them.

Fuck. No.

It takes all fucking day, and everything is more screwed-up than when I began. Yeah, OK, I mean, it's nice to wear clean shorts and socks, but is it really worth it?

There should be like robots to do this kind of shit. Some people really enjoy "laundry day, nice and clean, blah-di-blah!" Maybe just capture some of those people and have them figure out which direction the fitted sheet goes or whatever.

Women. That's who likes this stuff. I got to get my shit together and get me some more of them.

ETA NEW QUESTION I think it's probably a good idea to have exactly eight articles of clothing. You know, a week, plus an extra if something comes up. I don't fucking need twenty pairs of shorts and socks.

I think it's a brilliant idea.

The only flaw is that, to accomodate wear and tear, one would need spare supplies socked away, I guess, in reserve. No, I still don't know how random holes keep appearing in shorts. Nobody knows. It's a universal, unisex mystery. So, the flaw is that one would become undisciplined and dip into the reserves and all of a sudden it's no good again.

That's where the robots come in.

You wear a little device around, I don't know, like your wrist or wang or neck or whatever. And it shocks you into submission every, like Sunday or whatever.

Good idea?

Exactly. It's like holy days of obligation, like All Saints' Day.

But for laundry.

Probably how the monks do it, just saying.

QUESTION Can I and should I have a custom T-shirt printed that says "It's Advent, not Xmas, so STFU until the 25th"

Pretty sure that's OK with my company's dress code.

And, I'd probably do a fancy capital Chi for the "X" in Xmas. I don't know why.

Yes, I know it's not Advent yet, but I'm thinking ahead. There are already fucking Santa Claus hats and shit in the RiteAid and such drugstores in town.

It will do me good to not empty a clip into the nearest loudspeaker playing a Christmas song before Christmas. It's a season, you know. There are rules.

Well, I don't need to tell you people I'm not a model Christian nor a model anything, but I obviously feel pretty strongly about respect for traditions. And, walk the walk, sort of, mostly.

And, as a bonus, yeah, I'd probably wear the shirt every day during Advent. So, I'd have a few printed up.

Do I have a good slogan for the shirt, before I go make some child laborer do my bidding and produce this frivolous product for me?

Quote:

---

Originally posted by some jerk

∀x(Sx ≥ 2.5h ⊃10m ≤ B ≤ 15m)

---

Oh, shit.

I just realized the best way to express this, using the semantics of possible worlds.

No, that is not some science-fiction or physics thing, it's just the standard way to have a coherent logic which includes some (or all) modalities we see in regular life. Let's just say necessity (box) and contingency (diamond).

So.

What?

Why am I saying this in this thread?

I don't know.

Never mind, but I will have to get back to you once I've figured out an unambiguous statement in quantified modal logic. Hint: that's not really something that's done, really, because...reasons. But, as a teaser, it will be a short statement, and I'll probably just use the box operator (box is the dual of diamond, so it doesn't matter much, it's just easier for me to draw a box than a diamond on a whiteboard). It just adds a layer of meaning that is ... well, it would be intuitively sort of meaningful, but likely not stand up to scrutiny. And for such a simple statement, it wouldn't really matter.

Quote:

---

Originally posted by some jerk

∀x(Sx ≥ 2.5h ⊃10m ≤ B ≤ 15m)

---

Oh, shit.

I just realized the best way to express this, using the semantics of possible worlds.

No, that is not some science-fiction or physics thing, it's just the standard way to have a coherent logic which includes some (or all) modalities we see in regular life. Let's just say necessity (box) and contingency (diamond).

So.

What?

Why am I saying this in this thread?

I don't know.

Never mind, but I will have to get back to you once I've figured out an unambiguous statement in quantified modal logic. Hint: that's not really something that's done, really, because...reasons. But, as a teaser, it will be a short statement, and I'll probably just use the box operator (box is the dual of diamond, so it doesn't matter much, it's just easier for me to draw a box than a diamond on a whiteboard). It just adds a layer of meaning that is ... well, it would be intuitively sort of meaningful, but likely not stand up to scrutiny. And for such a simple statement, it wouldn't really matter.

No, there is no possible reason to quantify over variables for simple statements. Yeah, I can use the diamond operator (or box), for more nuance, but I'd have to strain myself to think of a sentence which needs distinguishing different variables whose evaluations are constrained by operators, in this context. So, yeah, I could well have chosen to amplify my statement with modal operators, but only PL, not FOPL is needed. IOW, simpler is better. Trust me, it gets plenty complicated.

QUESTION: some people from my crew are getting together next weekend for a short hangout. Apparently I'm in the cool group, because I got the personal invite. Not everyone did, believe me.

Problem, though. It's at seven pm on a Saturday night all the way across town. Which is, probably OK. But while it's not that far geographically, most of the distance is done on a large interstate, and I fucking hate driving at night. I mean, at my best, with glasses, and turning the stereo down, and not having any passengers chittering at me, I'm an OK driver. But, local traffic here is an abomination: it tests my patience daily under better optical conditons.

OTOH, I wouldn't mind meeting again some of the former employees who will be there. It's also, I find, good to keep one's hat in the ring for people who are in a position to do one favors when it comes to future employment. So, there is a little bit of that, even if it sounds cynical.

OTOOH, I don't really socialize in odd places, and when I do socialize, I always have some beer. Yeah, I know, that's not ideal, but that's the way it is. So, best case, I'll show up, order a pitcher or two of beer for the table, and, obviously, pay for it, cash, probably just toss twenty or thirty bucks cash into the kitty, or however much it costs plus tip. Probably fill my glass three or so times, and duck out. Yeah, I know, but driving while impaired doesn't seem to be a problem for me. I'm sort of always impaired. However, combined with my discomfort at driving, I wouldn't trust myself to do much more than keep the tires out of the ditches. There's a bit of paranoia involved there, granted, but probably no more than is warranted.

Eh, fuck it, I'll just go and show my face, have a couple or three beers, and have a wonderful time spending about forty minutes total driving time to get to the meat of about the same amount of actual enjoyable time.

All right, there must be an answer to this one: who smokes cigarettes in the "100s" size?

I'd say "well, somebody must, or else they wouldn't stock them in every single store," but I think that's not much of an indication: the distributors probably just throw them in and ask for the shelf space as some kind of strongarm-ish tactic. Or, maybe people do smoke them. Pretty sure people still smoke Virginia Slims, and Camel straights and Pall Mall unfiltereds, but those are niche products.

For non-smokers, the 100s are the same amount of tobacco, but with a longer filter and possibly slightly slimmer in diameter. Also for non-smokers, cigarettes are typically cylindrical in shape and are not tapered or flared along the length of the unit.

Riddle me this: WHY is it that my local electric company sucks so much ass?

Well, they seem more or less fair — I'm not complaining so much about the price-gouging in an area which is supposed to have the cheapest electrical power around, or we would if we didn't ship it down to those California cholo hippies. Big hydro-electric dam. Kills a bunch of salmon, but other than that, it's pretty clean and massive.

Also not complaining so much about their crappy website: it sucks, but it gets the job done, more or less.

What I am complaining about is why they take four or five days to post a payment to my bank.

It's not so much a big deal as it is an annoyance: when I pay the bill, I just want to cross it off my list of things to do, and be done with it.

Why? It's a fricking ACH transaction, it should be fricking immediate for chrissakes.

New question: since our good forum is doing good so far, and I think we all chip in to our abilities via Patreon, who would be interested in as a backup doing an IRC channel?

I can set it up, and AFAIC, everyone our small group would get maximum permissions.

IOW, everybody would have maximum permissions, just purely as equals.

No, not really as "chate," but just as a backup if and/or when Melloph. goes down.

I suppose I'd volunteer as owner as the channel, but we're pretty self-moderating, so everyone would get maximum permissions. Maybe there'd be spam or, as Roger Clemens might say, "and what not,"

I don't know, just trying to stay one step ahead.

I'm not even sure what that means, but it sounds like a good idea.

Yeah, I suppose it's not a terrible idea. I was just doing some drinking (Old Crow! Works every time!) while thinking about nerd shit. I don't know if I'll ever get around to deciding what a good IRC client is for my own computer, much less figuring out how to create a channel and set permissions, but obviously you'll all be the first to know. I might even import some people from my own sanctum, which would certainly be an option for anyone else, since I envision a pretty democratic, free-wheeling channel.

It might be amusing for about ten minutes, and then quickly forgetten about, but who knows.

Hey someone should do me a favor ans try from scratch to do a test message to IRC channel jizzelbin. It's hosted on freenode, but that shouldn't make much a difference.

To some extent I'm pentesting the channel, also trying out the limits of using Linux tools on Android, as well as for the primary use of the channel, just as an independent, backchannel.

Now there is no security, just a public channel.

Can one play soggy biscuit with a woman?

I believe so, and I think it would be an excellent game!

I'd play it, and I'm not afraid to say I wouldn't mind losing!

Ah. Parlor games: the gentleman's sport.

WHY???????

The bottoms of my feet hurt, such that I often hobble or limp after spending a mere work day pounding them on the warehouse floor. I don't mean a little "tender," I mean they hurt like a mofo, such that it's painful to walk at home on my carpeted surface. I ust elevate them at home and try to not rely too much on presciption-strength ibuprofen. Doesn't bother my stomach, and I've been taking it for many months, but it's probably not good for you in such doses every day.

The posterior tibial tendonitis, which was severe, but cured after Ibuprofen, therapeutic stretching, etc., and, AFAIK, no other tendons have been afflicted.

Yes, I rotate good quality sneakers regularly, and all that. At most I'm guilty of "heel-striking" when I'm moving fast.

I realize a concrete floor is quite a bit different than a woodland trail thatched with loam, as is its wont, and even worse than asphalt, but WTF? My feet hurt every fucking day, morning to noon. 800mg doses of Ibuprofen help, but I try to limit myself to 800-1600mg quod diem.

Just getting old, I guess. I'm pretty sure I can walk 25-30 miles no sweat, without stopping. But the concrete is very debiitating.

////////////

Oh, speaking of getting old: yeah, I'm lucky in that I probably never have male-pattern baldness, but chrissakes, my hair is thinning and receding quite a bit on the top-front bit. It looks ridiculous!

And a man in my position can't afford to be made to look ridiculous!

Oh, I shan't be growing more than the usual two-week beard (that just means I get lazy and use my nice double-edged safety razor to trim it up. until I get around to doing a real shave). Fucking grey hairs, my ass. Shows up in the beard, salt-and-pepperish, the eyebrows, and the sideburns.

Can't have it.

So, like "Grecian Formula" is pretty good, right?

I mean, nothing wrong with grey hairs, but I'm constantly trying to trap women, and I'm not a distinguished person IRL, so I haven't really earned my grey hairs yet.

In this account,

Quote:

---

Originally posted by me

This seems to be a continuing theme. Some cockbiting prick was up my ass on a rainy night on what should be a hassle-free highway.

I turn into the grocery store where I was headed after going to my bank before they closed.

Of course Mr. Cockbiting Prick Dickless Shithead pulled in after me.

I was able, through correct use of turn signals through the small parking lot, to end up within fifty meters of his car.

Even though it was misting gently with rain, I had the satisfaction of having a cigarette while sitting on the hood of my car (N.B., my car, not his or anybody else's), and conspicuously using my cell phone to photograph his vehicle.

I hope that little prick shit himself and continues to do so. And his child bride or whoever the fuck was in the passenger seat.

I could see he was considering coming up to me and starting some shit, but apparently nobody fucks with the Jesus. That'd be me.

Stupid fucking pricks, driving like animals. Where do the fuck do you think you're going, shithead? Ain't nothing up that road except my foot in your ass, you peckerwood.

---

Did I actually do anything wrong?

Morally or legally.

I think there are some bullshit criminal charges like menacing or something, but I wouldn't be worried about that, since I preceded shithead Dr. fucknuts into the lot, and neither approached nor confronted anyone.

Yeah, probably, menacing or harassing or some bullshit like that.

Morally, though, am I wrong?

I don't think so, but I'd welcome some potentially differing views.

QUESTION: Is there some definitive guide to what those emojis on, say, an Android phone are supposed to mean?

Some of them look ridiculous, and unfortunately some people I text with just go nuts with them.

Fortunately, most people in my peer group go with the standards that even I can get, like "hilarious laughing" or whatever.

Some of those damned things are just incomprehensible to me, though, even after zooming in many times on the screen.

QUESTION: To express one's discontent with slackers on the job, one should probably wear an ascot, and leather-soled shoes.

Yep.

And not a sweat spilled.

I am really fucking pissed off.

I punched out tomorrow, but Tuesday, you bet your ass I'm wearing a crisp white shirt, a tied ascot, and my safety vest.

I'm done taking any more of these assholes' slack.

Not one more drop of sweat.