Neste dating

Creating your Dating profile is easier than ever. Based on feedback from people using Dating in other countries, we’ve made it easier to create a Facebook Dating profile. With one tap, we’ll suggest photos and information from your Facebook profile, which you can edit or remove. You can also create your own Dating profile from scratch. Neste - single woman seeking match in Dordrecht, , Netherlands. 29 y.o. Zodiac sign: Capricorn. Contact woman Neste for online relations. I am from Lithuania but living and working in Netherlands :) Ethan Mark Nestor Darling is an online producer, entertainer YouTuber and former editor for Markiplier as well as the co-host of Unus Annus. He first appeared alongside Fischbach in 'Let's Play 4-Way Air Hockey IN REAL LIFE!!' and has been a member of Mark's 'You're Welcome' tour since 2017. Ethan was born in Cape Elizabeth, Maine on October 24, 1996 to Mark Nestor and Annie Darling. Since his ... Epic Games Store gives you a free game every week. Come back often for the exclusive offers. Download a free game or join a free-to-play game community today. About This Game Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator is a game where you play as a Dad and your goal is to meet and romance other hot Dads. You and your daughter have just moved into the sleepy seaside town of Maple Bay only to discover that everyone in your neighborhood is a single, dateable Dad! For Neste, the current innovation goal is to unlock the potential of several new, globally scalable raw materials, including algae, forestry and agricultural waste and residues, as well as municipal waste, to name a few. ... The vertical-axis Nashtifan windmills in Northern Iran, dating back 1,000 years to ancient Persia, are still used for ... Materials and Methods. We tested the predictions in two studies of heterosexual human dating interactions. Study 1 was a field study of structured speed-dating interactions (n = 144 speed-dates) in which we examined an individual’s naturally occurring postural expansiveness as a predictor of the interaction partner’s romantic attraction.We also assessed previously established nonverbal ... Find your ultimate match Tutustu rohkeisiin, alojaan eteenpäin vieviin organisaatioihin, joiden kanssa teemme yhteistyötä. Explore the world of LEGO® through games, videos, products and more! Shop awesome LEGO® building toys and brick sets and find the perfect gift for your kid

5 Pest Control Tips for your Home and Workplace

2020.09.24 08:03 Evict-A-Pest 5 Pest Control Tips for your Home and Workplace

Have you seen a line of ants crawling on your countertop? Are you shocked by the sight of rats darting underneath the pantry? Bothered by the critters and pests swarming your properties? Do you need termite treatment in Camden? Pests and insects usually your homes throughout the year.
However, homes are not the only places pests love. They can also stay and hide in your commercial properties and office buildings. These vermin and critters make their way into your workplace in search of food, water, and shelter.
To eliminate pests in your properties, follow these simple pest control tips:
Pest Control Tip #1: Identify Trouble Locations.
One of the most common solutions to stop the spread of pests is to know how they enter and exit the premise. No one wants critters and insects in the entryways of their workplace or home front, right?
To keep these places free of pests, determine the specific areas where they love to stay. Whether it’s an office building or a residential property, these are some of the most common spots where you might find unwelcome bugs and critters:
Exterior Lighting
The lighting on the outside of your property will potentially attract insects. So, avoid installing lighting fixtures from the building’s entrances.
Skip Bins
There’s no doubt that pests like to breed in decaying trash and dark areas. This makes trash receptacles and skip bins the perfect breeding area for them.
If possible, keep bins away from any areas where pests can quickly enter and exit the property. Install a fence around your trash bins to prevent their entry.
Aside from managing the exterior fixtures of your property, ensure that these areas are clean:
Dining Areas and Pantries
When cooking and preparing food, it’s vital to have a sanitary and pest-free space. With a clean dining area, you help stop the spread of germs and keep your properties pest-free.
You and your staff (or family) must always be responsible for cleaning the dining area. After eating, properly store food in sealed containers and wipe out all food debris from the sink or countertops. This will prevent critters from lurking and staying in these areas.
Bathrooms
The bathroom drain is one of the dirtiest places in your home or workplace. And since pests and vermin are attracted to dirt, it’s not surprising why they love to stay bathroom drains.
You may notice that cockroaches and bugs get in through the drains near the restrooms. It means that the bathroom is not cleaned and cleared of debris properly. This situation needs to be immediately controlled thorough cleaning and maintenance.
Pest Control Tip #2: Always Perform a Thorough Property Maintenance.
Maintenance and proper pest control in Camden can keep your properties pest-free. When your property’s exteriors are filthy and damaged, they can invite insects and critters. So, holes, cracks, and other structural damages should be attended to and repaired immediately.
Maintaining your property’s landscape can also significantly help prevent pests. Your garden should be neatly trimmed. Don’t let plants and shrubs to overgrow. These are places where pests breed and build nests.
You should never overlook your storage room and basement as well. Clear your space of unnecessary clutter and minimise dumping old and unusable items in your storage space.
Pest Control Tip #3: Eliminate Humid and Cool Areas.
Do you notice that your office or home is damp and cold? If so, you must consider using a dehumidifier. Most vermin thrive in low temperature and humid areas. That’s why it’s essential to keep your space dry.
Having a dry and clean space does not only drive away pests, but it also prevents your family or employees from contracting illness-causing germs and bacteria.
Pest Control Tip #4: Take Photos and Details of the Pest Problem.
When your property needs termite treatment in Camden, you need to be a proactive owner. Don’t just sit around and wait for the pest control experts to do their job. You can always write down all the details of the pests that you saw in your property.
You can even make a comprehensive and detailed list of the problem. This list should include:
With this information, professionals can quickly identify the problem and assess the situation before anything gets out of hand.
Pest Control Tip #5: Learn When to Call Pest Control Experts.
Whether you’d encounter pests in your home or workplace, pest sightings are unwelcomed news. They can cause severe problems for your properties and the health of your family or employees.
That said, it’s important to know when to call the professionals! If you ever see pest droppings and urine on your property, or you’ve been doing your own pest control but without any results, then call the experts in pest control in Camden.
Expert Termite Treatments and Reliable Pest Control in Camden
Pests are a threat to any property. When not controlled and treated right away, they can lead to significant property damage and health-related issues. So, have your properties checked by the experts at Evict-A-Pest.
Keep the pests at bay with our smart and innovative solutions. Whether you need termite control in Camden, pest control in Campbelltown, or bird proofing solutions in Penrith, we’ve got you covered.
Send your pests packing and call us now at 0425 775 888.
submitted by Evict-A-Pest to u/Evict-A-Pest [link] [comments]


2020.09.24 05:49 66696669666 Script/Command to update and scrape movies HELP

I was previously using a command/script to make TMM to update the movie list and the scrape the movies that haven't been scraped. Now for some reason I cannot get the command to work.
This is the command:
/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/tinyMediaManagerCMD.sh -updateMovies -scrapeNew
This is the log for that command:
[email protected]:~$ /volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/tinyMediaManagerCMD.sh -updateMovies -scrapeNew
22:45:18,242 -INFO in ch.qos.logback.classic.LoggerContext[default] - Could NOT find resource [logback-test.xml]
22:45:18,243 -INFO in ch.qos.logback.classic.LoggerContext[default] - Could NOT find resource [logback.groovy]
22:45:18,243 -INFO in ch.qos.logback.classic.LoggerContext[default] - Found resource [logback.xml] at [jar:file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/tmm.jar!/logback.xml]
22:45:18,279 -INFO in [email protected] - URL [jar:file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/tmm.jar!/logback.xml] is not of type file
22:45:18,419 -INFO in ch.qos.logback.classic.joran.action.ConfigurationAction - debug attribute not set
22:45:18,423 -INFO in ch.qos.logback.core.joran.action.StatusListenerAction - Added status listener of type [ch.qos.logback.core.status.OnConsoleStatusListener]
22:45:19,213 -INFO in ch.qos.logback.core.joran.action.AppenderAction - About to instantiate appender of type [ch.qos.logback.core.ConsoleAppender]
22:45:19,220 -INFO in ch.qos.logback.core.joran.action.AppenderAction - Naming appender as [CONSOLE]
22:45:19,244 -INFO in ch.qos.logback.core.joran.action.NestedComplexPropertyIA - Assuming default type [ch.qos.logback.classic.encoder.PatternLayoutEncoder] for [encoder] property
22:45:19,294 -INFO in ch.qos.logback.core.joran.action.AppenderAction - About to instantiate appender of type [ch.qos.logback.core.rolling.RollingFileAppender]
22:45:19,301 -INFO in ch.qos.logback.core.joran.action.AppenderAction - Naming appender as [FILE]
22:45:19,307 -INFO in ch.qos.logback.core.joran.action.NestedComplexPropertyIA - Assuming default type [ch.qos.logback.classic.encoder.PatternLayoutEncoder] for [encoder] property
22:45:19,317 -INFO in [email protected] - setting totalSizeCap to 1 GB
22:45:19,322 -INFO in [email protected] - Archive files will be limited to [10 MB] each.
22:45:19,327 -INFO in [email protected] - Will use gz compression
22:45:19,330 -INFO in [email protected] - Will use the pattern logs/tmm.%d.%i.log for the active file
22:45:19,335 -INFO in [email protected] - The date pattern is 'yyyy-MM-dd' from file name pattern 'logs/tmm.%d.%i.log.gz'.
22:45:19,336 -INFO in [email protected] - Roll-over at midnight.
22:45:19,343 -INFO in [email protected] - Setting initial period to Wed Sep 23 22:44:03 CDT 2020
22:45:19,348 -INFO in [email protected] - Cleaning on start up
22:45:19,356 -INFO in c.q.l.core.rolling.helper.TimeBasedArchiveRemover - first clean up after appender initialization
22:45:19,357 -INFO in c.q.l.core.rolling.helper.TimeBasedArchiveRemover - Multiple periods, i.e. 32 periods, seem to have elapsed. This is expected at application start.
22:45:19,359 -INFO in ch.qos.logback.core.rolling.RollingFileAppender[FILE] - Active log file name: logs/tmm.log
22:45:19,360 -INFO in ch.qos.logback.core.rolling.RollingFileAppender[FILE] - File property is set to [logs/tmm.log]
22:45:19,362 -INFO in ch.qos.logback.core.joran.action.AppenderAction - About to instantiate appender of type [ch.qos.logback.classic.AsyncAppender]
22:45:19,366 -INFO in ch.qos.logback.core.joran.action.AppenderAction - Naming appender as [ASYNC_FILE]
22:45:19,367 -INFO in ch.qos.logback.core.joran.action.AppenderRefAction - Attaching appender named [FILE] to ch.qos.logback.classic.AsyncAppender[ASYNC_FILE]
22:45:19,368 -INFO in ch.qos.logback.classic.AsyncAppender[ASYNC_FILE] - Attaching appender named [FILE] to AsyncAppender.
22:45:19,370 -INFO in ch.qos.logback.classic.AsyncAppender[ASYNC_FILE] - Setting discardingThreshold to 0
22:45:19,374 -INFO in ch.qos.logback.core.joran.action.AppenderAction - About to instantiate appender of type [ch.qos.logback.core.FileAppender]
22:45:19,375 -INFO in ch.qos.logback.core.joran.action.AppenderAction - Naming appender as [FILE_TRACE]
22:45:19,377 -INFO in ch.qos.logback.core.joran.action.NestedComplexPropertyIA - Assuming default type [ch.qos.logback.classic.encoder.PatternLayoutEncoder] for [encoder] property
22:45:19,379 -INFO in ch.qos.logback.core.FileAppender[FILE_TRACE] - File property is set to [logs/trace.log]
22:45:19,381 -INFO in ch.qos.logback.core.joran.action.AppenderAction - About to instantiate appender of type [ch.qos.logback.classic.AsyncAppender]
22:45:19,381 -INFO in ch.qos.logback.core.joran.action.AppenderAction - Naming appender as [ASYNC_TRACE]
22:45:19,382 -INFO in ch.qos.logback.core.joran.action.AppenderRefAction - Attaching appender named [FILE_TRACE] to ch.qos.logback.classic.AsyncAppender[ASYNC_TRACE]
22:45:19,382 -INFO in ch.qos.logback.classic.AsyncAppender[ASYNC_TRACE] - Attaching appender named [FILE_TRACE] to AsyncAppender.
22:45:19,382 -INFO in ch.qos.logback.classic.AsyncAppender[ASYNC_TRACE] - Setting discardingThreshold to 0
22:45:19,384 -INFO in ch.qos.logback.classic.joran.action.LoggerAction - Setting level of logger [org.tinymediamanager] to TRACE
22:45:19,384 -INFO in ch.qos.logback.core.joran.action.AppenderRefAction - Attaching appender named [CONSOLE] to Logger[ROOT]
22:45:19,384 -INFO in ch.qos.logback.core.joran.action.AppenderRefAction - Attaching appender named [ASYNC_FILE] to Logger[ROOT]
22:45:19,384 -INFO in ch.qos.logback.core.joran.action.AppenderRefAction - Attaching appender named [ASYNC_TRACE] to Logger[ROOT]
22:45:19,384 -INFO in ch.qos.logback.classic.joran.action.ConfigurationAction - End of configuration.
22:45:19,386 -INFO in [email protected] - Registering current configuration as safe fallback point
2020-09-23 22:45:19,433 INFO [main] org.tinymediamanager.TinyMediaManager:135 - =====================================================
2020-09-23 22:45:19,439 INFO [main] org.tinymediamanager.TinyMediaManager:136 - === tinyMediaManager (c) 2012-2020 Manuel Laggner ===
2020-09-23 22:45:19,440 INFO [main] org.tinymediamanager.TinyMediaManager:137 - =====================================================
2020-09-23 22:45:19,444 INFO [main] org.tinymediamanager.TinyMediaManager:138 - tmm.version : 3.1.9
2020-09-23 22:45:19,451 INFO [main] org.tinymediamanager.TinyMediaManager:139 - os.name: Linux
2020-09-23 22:45:19,452 INFO [main] org.tinymediamanager.TinyMediaManager:140 - os.version : 4.4.59+
2020-09-23 22:45:19,453 INFO [main] org.tinymediamanager.TinyMediaManager:141 - os.arch : amd64
2020-09-23 22:45:19,455 INFO [main] org.tinymediamanager.TinyMediaManager:142 - java.version : 1.8.0_212
2020-09-23 22:45:19,456 INFO [main] org.tinymediamanager.TinyMediaManager:143 - java.maxMem : 455 MiB
22:45:19,482 -INFO in c.q.l.core.rolling.helper.TimeBasedArchiveRemover - Removed 0 Bytes of files
2020-09-23 22:45:20,385 INFO [main] org.tinymediamanager.TinyMediaManager:597 - current encoding : UTF-8 UTF8 UTF-8
2020-09-23 22:45:20,386 INFO [main] org.tinymediamanager.TinyMediaManager:156 - System language : en_US
2020-09-23 22:45:20,386 INFO [main] org.tinymediamanager.TinyMediaManager:157 - GUI language : en_US
2020-09-23 22:45:20,607 INFO [main] org.tinymediamanager.TinyMediaManager:158 - Scraper language : English
2020-09-23 22:45:20,717 INFO [main] org.tinymediamanager.TinyMediaManager:159 - TV Scraper lang : English
2020-09-23 22:45:20,828 ERROR [headless] org.tinymediamanager.core.Utils:1449 - Failed to create zip file: null
2020-09-23 22:45:20,829 ERROR [headless] org.tinymediamanager.core.Utils:1449 - Failed to create zip file: data/backup/
2020-09-23 22:45:20,830 ERROR [headless] org.tinymediamanager.core.Utils:1449 - Failed to create zip file: data/backup/
2020-09-23 22:45:20,889 INFO [headless] org.tinymediamanager.TinyMediaManager:187 - =====================================================
2020-09-23 22:45:20,890 INFO [headless] org.tinymediamanager.TinyMediaManager:215 - starting tinyMediaManager
2020-09-23 22:45:21,011 ERROR [headless] o.tinymediamanager.thirdparty.MediaInfo:630 - Failed to load mediainfo
java.lang.UnsatisfiedLinkError: Unable to load library 'zen':
libzen.so: cannot open shared object file: No such file or directory
libzen.so: cannot open shared object file: No such file or directory
Native library (linux-x86-64/libzen.so) not found in resource path ([file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/tmm.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/FastInfoset.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/aXMLRPC.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/activation.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/animated-gif-lib.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/asm.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/betterbeansbinding-core.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/betterbeansbinding-el.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/betterbeansbinding-swingbinding.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/cling-core.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/cling-support.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/commons-codec.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/commons-compiler.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/commons-io.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/commons-lang3.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/commons-text.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/converter-gson.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/glazedlists.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/gson.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/h2-mvstore.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/imgscalr-lib.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/isoparser.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/istack-commons-runtime.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/jISO8601.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/jackson-annotations.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/jackson-core-asl.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/jackson-core.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/jackson-databind.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/jackson-mapper-asl.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/janino.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/jaxb-api.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/jaxb-core.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/jaxb-impl.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/jcl-over-slf4j.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/jmte.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/jna-platform.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/jna.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/joda-time.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/jsoup.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/jsr173_api.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/jsr305.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/jtidy.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/kodi-json-rpc.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/logback-classic.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/logback-core.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/logging-interceptor.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/loop-fs-api.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/loop-fs-iso-impl.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/loop-fs-spi.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/loop-fs-udf-impl.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/lwjgl-nfd.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/lwjgl.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/miglayout-core.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/miglayout-swing.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/muxer.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/nanohttpd.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/okhttp-urlconnection.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/okhttp.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/okio.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/retrofit.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/seamless-http.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/seamless-swing.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/seamless-util.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/seamless-xml.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/slf4j-api.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/thetvdb-java.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/threetenbp.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/tmdb-java.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/trakt-java.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/common-image.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/imageio-metadata.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/imageio-core.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/common-io.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/common-lang.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/imageio-jpeg.jar])
`at com.sun.jna.NativeLibrary.loadLibrary(`[`NativeLibrary.java:302`](https://NativeLibrary.java:302)`)` `at com.sun.jna.NativeLibrary.getInstance(`[`NativeLibrary.java:455`](https://NativeLibrary.java:455)`)` `at com.sun.jna.Library$Handler.(`[`Library.java:192`](https://Library.java:192)`)` `at com.sun.jna.Native.load(`[`Native.java:596`](https://Native.java:596)`)` `at com.sun.jna.Native.load(`[`Native.java:570`](https://Native.java:570)`)` `at org.tinymediamanager.thirdparty.MediaInfoLibrary.(`[`MediaInfoLibrary.java:37`](https://MediaInfoLibrary.java:37)`)` `at org.tinymediamanager.thirdparty.MediaInfo.staticOption(`[`MediaInfo.java:626`](https://MediaInfo.java:626)`)` `at org.tinymediamanager.thirdparty.MediaInfo.staticOption(`[`MediaInfo.java:612`](https://MediaInfo.java:612)`)` `at org.tinymediamanager.thirdparty.MediaInfo.version(`[`MediaInfo.java:574`](https://MediaInfo.java:574)`)` `at org.tinymediamanager.thirdparty.MediaInfoUtils.loadMediaInfo(`[`MediaInfoUtils.java:102`](https://MediaInfoUtils.java:102)`)` `at` [`org.tinymediamanager.TinyMediaManager$1.run`](https://org.tinymediamanager.TinyMediaManager$1.run)`(`[`TinyMediaManager.java:241`](https://TinyMediaManager.java:241)`)` `at java.awt.event.InvocationEvent.dispatch(`[`InvocationEvent.java:311`](https://InvocationEvent.java:311)`)` `at java.awt.EventQueue.dispatchEventImpl(`[`EventQueue.java:758`](https://EventQueue.java:758)`)` `at java.awt.EventQueue.access$500(`[`EventQueue.java:97`](https://EventQueue.java:97)`)` `at` [`java.awt.EventQueue$3.run`](https://java.awt.EventQueue$3.run)`(`[`EventQueue.java:709`](https://EventQueue.java:709)`)` `at` [`java.awt.EventQueue$3.run`](https://java.awt.EventQueue$3.run)`(`[`EventQueue.java:703`](https://EventQueue.java:703)`)` `at java.security.AccessController.doPrivileged(Native Method)` `at java.security.ProtectionDomain$JavaSecurityAccessImpl.doIntersectionPrivilege(`[`ProtectionDomain.java:74`](https://ProtectionDomain.java:74)`)` `at java.awt.EventQueue.dispatchEvent(`[`EventQueue.java:728`](https://EventQueue.java:728)`)` `at java.awt.EventDispatchThread.pumpOneEventForFilters(`[`EventDispatchThread.java:205`](https://EventDispatchThread.java:205)`)` `at java.awt.EventDispatchThread.pumpEventsForFilter(`[`EventDispatchThread.java:116`](https://EventDispatchThread.java:116)`)` `at java.awt.EventDispatchThread.pumpEventsForHierarchy(`[`EventDispatchThread.java:105`](https://EventDispatchThread.java:105)`)` `at java.awt.EventDispatchThread.pumpEvents(`[`EventDispatchThread.java:101`](https://EventDispatchThread.java:101)`)` `at java.awt.EventDispatchThread.pumpEvents(`[`EventDispatchThread.java:93`](https://EventDispatchThread.java:93)`)` `at` [`java.awt.EventDispatchThread.run`](https://java.awt.EventDispatchThread.run)`(`[`EventDispatchThread.java:82`](https://EventDispatchThread.java:82)`)` `Suppressed: java.lang.UnsatisfiedLinkError:` [`libzen.so`](https://libzen.so)`: cannot open shared object file: No such file or directory` `at` [`com.sun.jna.Native.open`](https://com.sun.jna.Native.open)`(Native Method)` `at com.sun.jna.NativeLibrary.loadLibrary(`[`NativeLibrary.java:191`](https://NativeLibrary.java:191)`)` `... 24 common frames omitted` `Suppressed: java.lang.UnsatisfiedLinkError:` [`libzen.so`](https://libzen.so)`: cannot open shared object file: No such file or directory` `at` [`com.sun.jna.Native.open`](https://com.sun.jna.Native.open)`(Native Method)` `at com.sun.jna.NativeLibrary.loadLibrary(`[`NativeLibrary.java:204`](https://NativeLibrary.java:204)`)` `... 24 common frames omitted` `Suppressed: java.io.IOException: Native library (linux-x86-64/libzen.so) not found in resource path ([file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/tmm.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/FastInfoset.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/aXMLRPC.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/activation.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/animated-gif-lib.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/asm.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/betterbeansbinding-core.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/betterbeansbinding-el.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/betterbeansbinding-swingbinding.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/cling-core.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/cling-support.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/commons-codec.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/commons-compiler.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/commons-io.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/commons-lang3.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/commons-text.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/converter-gson.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/glazedlists.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/gson.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/h2-mvstore.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/imgscalr-lib.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/isoparser.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/istack-commons-runtime.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/jISO8601.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/jackson-annotations.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/jackson-core-asl.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/jackson-core.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/jackson-databind.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/jackson-mapper-asl.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/janino.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/jaxb-api.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/jaxb-core.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/jaxb-impl.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/jcl-over-slf4j.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/jmte.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/jna-platform.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/jna.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/joda-time.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/jsoup.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/jsr173_api.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/jsr305.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/jtidy.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/kodi-json-rpc.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/logback-classic.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/logback-core.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/logging-interceptor.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/loop-fs-api.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/loop-fs-iso-impl.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/loop-fs-spi.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/loop-fs-udf-impl.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/lwjgl-nfd.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/lwjgl.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/miglayout-core.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/miglayout-swing.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/muxer.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/nanohttpd.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/okhttp-urlconnection.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/okhttp.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/okio.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/retrofit.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/seamless-http.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/seamless-swing.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/seamless-util.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/seamless-xml.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/slf4j-api.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/thetvdb-java.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/threetenbp.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/tmdb-java.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/trakt-java.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/common-image.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/imageio-metadata.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/imageio-core.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/common-io.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/common-lang.jar, file:/volume1/docketinymediamanageconfig/lib/imageio-jpeg.jar])` `at com.sun.jna.Native.extractFromResourcePath(`[`Native.java:1095`](https://Native.java:1095)`)` `at com.sun.jna.NativeLibrary.loadLibrary(`[`NativeLibrary.java:276`](https://NativeLibrary.java:276)`)` `... 24 common frames omitted` 
2020-09-23 22:45:21,015 ERROR [headless] o.t.thirdparty.MediaInfoUtils:108 - could not load MediaInfo!
2020-09-23 22:45:21,017 ERROR [headless] o.t.thirdparty.MediaInfoUtils:110 - Please try do install the library from your distribution
2020-09-23 22:45:21,149 ERROR [headless] org.tinymediamanager.TinyMediaManager:361 - IllegalStateException
java.lang.IllegalStateException: The file is locked: nio:data/movies.db [1.4.197/7]
`at org.h2.mvstore.DataUtils.newIllegalStateException(`[`DataUtils.java:870`](https://DataUtils.java:870)`)` `at` [`org.h2.mvstore.FileStore.open`](https://org.h2.mvstore.FileStore.open)`(`[`FileStore.java:173`](https://FileStore.java:173)`)` `at org.h2.mvstore.MVStore.(`[`MVStore.java:350`](https://MVStore.java:350)`)` `at` [`org.h2.mvstore.MVStore$Builder.open`](https://org.h2.mvstore.MVStore$Builder.open)`(`[`MVStore.java:2934`](https://MVStore.java:2934)`)` `at org.tinymediamanager.core.movie.MovieModuleManager.startUp(`[`MovieModuleManager.java:94`](https://MovieModuleManager.java:94)`)` `at org.tinymediamanager.core.TmmModuleManager.enableModule(`[`TmmModuleManager.java:56`](https://TmmModuleManager.java:56)`)` `at` [`org.tinymediamanager.TinyMediaManager$1.run`](https://org.tinymediamanager.TinyMediaManager$1.run)`(`[`TinyMediaManager.java:250`](https://TinyMediaManager.java:250)`)` `at java.awt.event.InvocationEvent.dispatch(`[`InvocationEvent.java:311`](https://InvocationEvent.java:311)`)` `at java.awt.EventQueue.dispatchEventImpl(`[`EventQueue.java:758`](https://EventQueue.java:758)`)` `at java.awt.EventQueue.access$500(`[`EventQueue.java:97`](https://EventQueue.java:97)`)` `at` [`java.awt.EventQueue$3.run`](https://java.awt.EventQueue$3.run)`(`[`EventQueue.java:709`](https://EventQueue.java:709)`)` `at` [`java.awt.EventQueue$3.run`](https://java.awt.EventQueue$3.run)`(`[`EventQueue.java:703`](https://EventQueue.java:703)`)` `at java.security.AccessController.doPrivileged(Native Method)` `at java.security.ProtectionDomain$JavaSecurityAccessImpl.doIntersectionPrivilege(`[`ProtectionDomain.java:74`](https://ProtectionDomain.java:74)`)` `at java.awt.EventQueue.dispatchEvent(`[`EventQueue.java:728`](https://EventQueue.java:728)`)` `at java.awt.EventDispatchThread.pumpOneEventForFilters(`[`EventDispatchThread.java:205`](https://EventDispatchThread.java:205)`)` `at java.awt.EventDispatchThread.pumpEventsForFilter(`[`EventDispatchThread.java:116`](https://EventDispatchThread.java:116)`)` `at java.awt.EventDispatchThread.pumpEventsForHierarchy(`[`EventDispatchThread.java:105`](https://EventDispatchThread.java:105)`)` `at java.awt.EventDispatchThread.pumpEvents(`[`EventDispatchThread.java:101`](https://EventDispatchThread.java:101)`)` `at java.awt.EventDispatchThread.pumpEvents(`[`EventDispatchThread.java:93`](https://EventDispatchThread.java:93)`)` `at` [`java.awt.EventDispatchThread.run`](https://java.awt.EventDispatchThread.run)`(`[`EventDispatchThread.java:82`](https://EventDispatchThread.java:82)`)` 
22:45:21,155 -INFO in ch.qos.logback.classic.AsyncAppender[ASYNC_FILE] - Worker thread will flush remaining events before exiting.
22:45:21,158 -INFO in ch.qos.logback.classic.AsyncAppender[ASYNC_FILE] - Queue flush finished successfully within timeout.
22:45:21,159 -INFO in ch.qos.logback.classic.AsyncAppender[ASYNC_TRACE] - Worker thread will flush remaining events before exiting.
22:45:21,160 -INFO in ch.qos.logback.classic.AsyncAppender[ASYNC_TRACE] - Queue flush finished successfully within timeout.
These are the errors I found:
2020-09-23 22:45:20,828 ERROR [headless] org.tinymediamanager.core.Utils:1449 - Failed to create zip file: null
2020-09-23 22:45:20,829 ERROR [headless] org.tinymediamanager.core.Utils:1449 - Failed to create zip file: data/backup/
2020-09-23 22:45:20,830 ERROR [headless] org.tinymediamanager.core.Utils:1449 - Failed to create zip file: data/backup/
2020-09-23 22:45:21,011 ERROR [headless] o.tinymediamanager.thirdparty.MediaInfo:630 - Failed to load mediainfo
java.lang.UnsatisfiedLinkError: Unable to load library 'zen':
libzen.so: cannot open shared object file: No such file or directory
libzen.so: cannot open shared object file: No such file or directory
Suppressed: java.lang.UnsatisfiedLinkError: libzen.so: cannot open shared object file: No such file or directory
 `at` [`com.sun.jna.Native.open`](https://com.sun.jna.Native.open)`(Native Method)` `at com.sun.jna.NativeLibrary.loadLibrary(`[`NativeLibrary.java:191`](https://NativeLibrary.java:191)`)` `... 24 common frames omitted` `Suppressed: java.lang.UnsatisfiedLinkError:` [`libzen.so`](https://libzen.so)`: cannot open shared object file: No such file or directory` `at` [`com.sun.jna.Native.open`](https://com.sun.jna.Native.open)`(Native Method)` `at com.sun.jna.NativeLibrary.loadLibrary(`[`NativeLibrary.java:204`](https://NativeLibrary.java:204)`)` `... 24 common frames omitted` `Suppressed: java.io.IOException: Native library (linux-x86-64/libzen.so) not found in resource path` 
2020-09-23 22:45:21,015 ERROR [headless] o.t.thirdparty.MediaInfoUtils:108 - could not load MediaInfo!
2020-09-23 22:45:21,017 ERROR [headless] o.t.thirdparty.MediaInfoUtils:110 - Please try do install the library from your distribution
2020-09-23 22:45:21,149 ERROR [headless] org.tinymediamanager.TinyMediaManager:361 - IllegalStateException
java.lang.IllegalStateException: The file is locked: nio:data/movies.db [1.4.197/7]
submitted by 66696669666 to tinyMediaManager [link] [comments]


2020.09.24 05:41 duketuring The Fat Lady

Loretta Young. I squint at her sitting on a wrought-iron bench in the burning light of another summer day, and then cast a shadow over the dot-matrix portrait in the file spread out on my picnic table to get a better look. Sharp high cheekbones, hair pulled into a French braid so blond there’s no mistaking it even in grayscale. I can even pick up the distant look in her eyes and the low-cut collar of her sweater. There’s no doubt, there she is. Loretta Young: Age thirty-two, Social Security number XXX-XX-XXXX, 9012 Quince Lane. The time stamped next to her name gives me a good fifteen minutes, so I pour through her file.
My thumb runs along the familiar rough edge of the pages as I search through her shopping habits to find what I’m looking for. Her years melt away with her purchasing power, and finally my eyes catch those familiar italics in between an Ikea couch and a box of Trojan Condoms. “Lies about crying at movies out of fear of seeming cold to her friends.”
My stiff new clothes—courtesy of Adam Finch, James Goldburg, and Patrick Fisher—are hot and scratchy in the June heat and I can feel the first bead of sweat tickling as it slivers down my spine. Having no other reason to wait, I begin my work.
Loretta is peeling an orange as I walk quietly towards her. She’s not supposed to see me. I was hired to be a phantom, a poltergeist. But I stopped caring years ago, so I take a seat next to her and smile.
“Hi there.” I say.
She glances nervously up at me and then down at the impossibly thick manila file in my lap before returning her eyes to her orange and replying. “Hello.”
I know she can feel my eyes on her, and I can see her muscles tense as she considers walking away. “Nice day, eh?” I ask. Her brows drop a quarter inch and her mouth pulls into a thin white line. I can see the muscles in her legs stiffen and then relax as she decides to tough it out.
“Yes, I suppose.” She rushes a segment of orange into her mouth and chews it slowly to keep her lips and tongue occupied. Her eyes are locked on her file, as if some part of her knows what it contains. “Working lunch?” She asks.
“Yes, you could say that. Who are you? Tell me who you are in a sentence.”
Loretta’s hand freezes halfway between the orange and her mouth, and she tears her eyes from the file to look into mine. I see my desperation reflected in her jet-black pupils. “Excuse me?”
“Just humor me, please?”
She bites her lip and stares at the orange. Hours seem to blow across the grass around us. “I… really need to get back to work. Um, have a nice lunch.” She stuffs the last of the orange into her mouth and clutches her purse to her chest as she stands. The orange peel dangles in her hand and she glances around, looking for the rubbish bin.
“Please, allow me Loretta.” I pluck the peel from her suddenly stiff hands. Her eyes go wide and she swallows, nearly choking.
“How do you know my name?”
But I’m already gone.
___
I stop at the Texaco station on 89th and pull Benjamin Lark out of my wallet to provide my fuel. My life before The Fat Lady seems so detached and indistinct it’s not even a memory. When I try to conjure up my childhood all I can see are Happy Meals and Power Ranger Megazords. File after file, I searched for the italicized sentence, hungry, desperate for some sort of pattern or meaning. Eventually, every swipe of my debit card felt like a handful of dirt thrown on my grave.
It wasn’t long before I decided that the identities that passed through my hand every day wouldn’t be missed. Kyle Porter was the first. “Beat his neighbor’s dog to death as a child.” The italics absolved me as I took his name and began opening accounts. Now I have an entire closet at home full of nothing but credit cards and uncashed paychecks.
Benjamin walks up to the counter and asks for a pack of Lucky Strike Filters. “They don’t make those anymore bud.” The clerk says. He takes a pack of Camels instead, punches his code into the pin-pad, and walks out the door.
___
I pull my car out onto the street and turn onto the highway, quietly reciting my litany from the top. “Loretta Young, lies about crying at movies out of fear of seeming cold to her friends. Steven Mercer, gives his family and friends hand-drawn cards every Christmas. Catherine Pook, blushes every time she talks to her cats. Joseph Gates, stole a pair of lacquered Chinese worry-balls from his teacher’s desk in the 8th grade, and gave them as a present to his mother out of guilt…
Jack is, as always, sitting at his desk on the spartan ground floor when I enter the building. The sickly-sweet smoke billowing out of his cherry-stained pipe forms a dusky cloud around his head that the dim fluorescent lighting of the windowless office cannot penetrate. I’ve never once gotten a clear look at his face.
I walk across the field of tight burber to his desk and slap the file down in front of him, gently laying the orange peel on top of it. “Here it is.” Before I can turn around I feel Jack’s cold and wrinkled hand press down on top of mine like a vise.
“Nope. She wants you to take it up to her yourself.”
I halt, confused by the sudden change in a routine so established it was a ritual. “She?”
“The Fat Lady.”
The Fat Lady?”
Jack’s leathery face pushes the cloud-front forward and I cringe involuntarily as he yells “YES The Fat Lady! Is there a god-damn echo in here?”
Everyone that worked for her had theories and stories; it was all we talked about in the minutes we spent together every morning waiting for Jack to come down the elevator with our files. But no one had ever actually seen her. That is besides, we all could only assume, Jack.
My heart races as I gather my wits to some degree and point mutely at the elevator. From within his vanilla cloud, Jack simply nods. I take back the file and the peel and walk slowly to the back of the room.
The rough beige doors slide closed with a loud clank, and I clutch the file to my chest, wondering which of the four floors The Fat Lady is on and more importantly, where all the buttons are. I can feel no movement, and there is absolutely nothing around me besides dingy painted steel. What seems like hours pass by before the doors slide loudly open again to reveal an impossibly large room filled with filing cabinets. I step out, immediately noticing the uncomfortably low ceiling. I return to the litany to calm my nerves. “Greg Jackson…” I halt, unable to remember the important bit. Was it something about his first car? Getting a royal flush at a Pai-Gow table?
I take a deep breath and look around. Sickly yellow fluorescents in the stuccoed ceiling light the room, and it is so large and so dim that I cannot see the other three walls. Thousands, millions, of beige five-drawer filing cabinets form row after row, like titan’s ribs thrusting up from the floor. Directly ahead of me is a ladder leading up into a hole in the ceiling that pours forth a bright, clean light.
‘Five, Four, Three, Two, One.’ My breath and heart slow and I do my best to assess my situation. Almost immediately I recognize the opportunity before me and set the file and the peel down on the floor. I walk to the nearest cabinet and pull open the third drawer up.
Michael Stravin, Louis Hearth, Allen Riker. I close my eyes and accept defeat. The files seem to be random, and there’s no way I could find mine before Jack comes looking for me. I laugh to myself, suddenly realizing there was probably no way I could find myself if I spent the rest of my life in this room.
I sigh and gather Loretta’s file and peel, walking calmly to the ladder. Placing the peel in my pocket and straining my jaw to hold the file between my teeth, I begin to climb.
My muscles are on fire by the time the light above draws near and I climb blinking and half-blind into The Fat Lady’s office.
I see her hand thrust in front of me from my right, its thick fingers curled along the edges of the pale white pillow of her palm. Understanding, I fish the peel out of my pocket and gently lay it down into her grasp.
My eyes adjust to the light as she walks to the other end of the room. Her body defies the word enormous, looking alien in its proportions. She wears a flowing white dress, embroidered subtly and gracefully, which somehow flatters her ample form. Her wrist is forever lost beneath the joining of hand and forearm, looking almost like independent parts held together and animated by magnetism. She glides across the floor with stunning grace, the subtle movement of the fat under her taught and unblemished skin belying impossible strength.
Before I can even open my mouth, she turns and shushes me, the air rushing out of her tiny doll’s lips like a hull breach and her steel-grey eyes broaching no argument. She comes to a halt in front of a table supporting a strange device settled into a nest of wires. The Fat Lady lifts the smoked-plastic lid of the device and places Loretta’s orange peel onto a shiny metal disk in the center of the contraption. Closing the lid, she produces a pocket-watch from somewhere on her person and stares fixedly at it’s ticking hands.
I can’t help but hold my breath until finally, her finger strikes a button to the left of the device, and she leans her head back and closes her eyes in apparent ecstasy. A tone begins to swell out from unseen speakers, joined by another, and another. The chord layers to an impossible complexity. Tears are welling in my eyes as the crescendoing wave of sound shakes my bones and overpowers the beat of my heart. I think I can hear a soft voice, layered upon itself ad infinitum, a lifetime compressed into a single note.
The Fat Lady’s breast trembles and swells impossibly as she drinks the sound in. And then suddenly it stops, leaving only the echo of a scream ringing in my ears. The Fat Lady smiles and softly exhales, opening her eyes. Sated, she walks to the other side of the room and delicately pulls a small platinum disk from a complicated turntable, slips it into a dust jacket, labels it, and places it on one of the shelves lining the walls of her office.
“I talked to her, to Loretta.” I blurt out without thinking.
The Fat Lady glides to the mahogany desk and sits down in her massive, plush chair before locking me in her eyes. “I know, it’s been accounted for.”
“And others, for years.” I add, unable to stop.
“Yes, them too.” She smiles. “How long have you worked here?”
“I… I don’t know.” I stammer.
“You have a question, don’t you? Something you want to know?” Her doll’s mouth tightens to a point.
“What happened to her, to Loretta?”
The Fat lady laughs. “You already know that.”
I do, I admit to myself.
“Be a dear and put that back for me, would you?” She gestures at Loretta’s file and pulls a large ledger from one of her desk’s drawers. “In the cabinet to the left of the ladder. They’re sorted by date.” Her eyes narrow and a smirk dances across the corner of her lip, then she lifts a pen from the desk and begins scribbling in the ledger, calling the audience to a close.
Slowly, I turn myself away from her and descend the ladder.
I open one of the cabinet’s drawers at random and begin thumbing through the files comparing dates. I find Loretta’s place, and then there it is, printed on a folder thinner than most in a neat courier font. My name. Loretta’s folder falls to the floor, and I rip my file from its place. I don’t even have to sort through the pages, the italics are right there at the top of the list.
Vanilla smoke stings my wide eyes and a hard, wrinkled hand plucks the file from my numb fingers. I turn around, but he’s already gone.
I close my eyes, and find the words burned into the blackness. ‘Desperately wishes he was something more than he really is.’
___
I rush blindly down the street to the pawnshop and Kellen Walker buys a nine-millimeter Lugar. I get into the car and speed home, hoping I’m not late for my appointment with The Fat Lady.
submitted by duketuring to libraryofshadows [link] [comments]


2020.09.24 05:31 duketuring The Fat Lady

Loretta Young. I squint at her sitting on a wrought-iron bench in the burning light of another summer day, and then cast a shadow over the dot-matrix portrait in the file spread out on my picnic table to get a better look. Sharp high cheekbones, hair pulled into a French braid so blond there’s no mistaking it even in grayscale. I can even pick up the distant look in her eyes and the low-cut collar of her sweater. There’s no doubt, there she is. Loretta Young: Age thirty-two, Social Security number XXX-XX-XXXX, 9012 Quince Lane. The time stamped next to her name gives me a good fifteen minutes, so I pour through her file.
My thumb runs along the familiar rough edge of the pages as I search through her shopping habits to find what I’m looking for. Her years melt away with her purchasing power, and finally my eyes catch those familiar italics in between an Ikea couch and a box of Trojan Condoms. “Lies about crying at movies out of fear of seeming cold to her friends.”
My stiff new clothes—courtesy of Adam Finch, James Goldburg, and Patrick Fisher—are hot and scratchy in the June heat and I can feel the first bead of sweat tickling as it slivers down my spine. Having no other reason to wait, I begin my work.
Loretta is peeling an orange as I walk quietly towards her. She’s not supposed to see me. I was hired to be a phantom, a poltergeist. But I stopped caring years ago, so I take a seat next to her and smile.
“Hi there.” I say.
She glances nervously up at me and then down at the impossibly thick manila file in my lap before returning her eyes to her orange and replying. “Hello.”
I know she can feel my eyes on her, and I can see her muscles tense as she considers walking away. “Nice day, eh?” I ask. Her brows drop a quarter inch and her mouth pulls into a thin white line. I can see the muscles in her legs stiffen and then relax as she decides to tough it out.
“Yes, I suppose.” She rushes a segment of orange into her mouth and chews it slowly to keep her lips and tongue occupied. Her eyes are locked on her file, as if some part of her knows what it contains. “Working lunch?” She asks.
“Yes, you could say that. Who are you? Tell me who you are in a sentence.”
Loretta’s hand freezes halfway between the orange and her mouth, and she tears her eyes from the file to look into mine. I see my desperation reflected in her jet-black pupils. “Excuse me?”
“Just humor me, please?”
She bites her lip and stares at the orange. Hours seem to blow across the grass around us. “I… really need to get back to work. Um, have a nice lunch.” She stuffs the last of the orange into her mouth and clutches her purse to her chest as she stands. The orange peel dangles in her hand and she glances around, looking for the rubbish bin.
“Please, allow me Loretta.” I pluck the peel from her suddenly stiff hands. Her eyes go wide and she swallows, nearly choking.
“How do you know my name?”
But I’m already gone.
___
I stop at the Texaco station on 89th and pull Benjamin Lark out of my wallet to provide my fuel. My life before The Fat Lady seems so detached and indistinct it’s not even a memory. When I try to conjure up my childhood all I can see are Happy Meals and Power Ranger Megazords. File after file, I searched for the italicized sentence, hungry, desperate for some sort of pattern or meaning. Eventually, every swipe of my debit card felt like a handful of dirt thrown on my grave.
It wasn’t long before I decided that the identities that passed through my hand every day wouldn’t be missed. Kyle Porter was the first. “Beat his neighbor’s dog to death as a child.” The italics absolved me as I took his name and began opening accounts. Now I have an entire closet at home full of nothing but credit cards and uncashed paychecks.
Benjamin walks up to the counter and asks for a pack of Lucky Strike Filters. “They don’t make those anymore bud.” The clerk says. He takes a pack of Camels instead, punches his code into the pin-pad, and walks out the door.
___
I pull my car out onto the street and turn onto the highway, quietly reciting my litany from the top. “Loretta Young, lies about crying at movies out of fear of seeming cold to her friends. Steven Mercer, gives his family and friends hand-drawn cards every Christmas. Catherine Pook, blushes every time she talks to her cats. Joseph Gates, stole a pair of lacquered Chinese worry-balls from his teacher’s desk in the 8th grade, and gave them as a present to his mother out of guilt…
Jack is, as always, sitting at his desk on the spartan ground floor when I enter the building. The sickly-sweet smoke billowing out of his cherry-stained pipe forms a dusky cloud around his head that the dim fluorescent lighting of the windowless office cannot penetrate. I’ve never once gotten a clear look at his face.
I walk across the field of tight burber to his desk and slap the file down in front of him, gently laying the orange peel on top of it. “Here it is.” Before I can turn around I feel Jack’s cold and wrinkled hand press down on top of mine like a vise.
“Nope. She wants you to take it up to her yourself.”
I halt, confused by the sudden change in a routine so established it was a ritual. “She?”
“The Fat Lady.”
The Fat Lady?”
Jack’s leathery face pushes the cloud-front forward and I cringe involuntarily as he yells “YES The Fat Lady! Is there a god-damn echo in here?”
Everyone that worked for her had theories and stories; it was all we talked about in the minutes we spent together every morning waiting for Jack to come down the elevator with our files. But no one had ever actually seen her. That is besides, we all could only assume, Jack.
My heart races as I gather my wits to some degree and point mutely at the elevator. From within his vanilla cloud, Jack simply nods. I take back the file and the peel and walk slowly to the back of the room.
The rough beige doors slide closed with a loud clank, and I clutch the file to my chest, wondering which of the four floors The Fat Lady is on and more importantly, where all the buttons are. I can feel no movement, and there is absolutely nothing around me besides dingy painted steel. What seems like hours pass by before the doors slide loudly open again to reveal an impossibly large room filled with filing cabinets. I step out, immediately noticing the uncomfortably low ceiling. I return to the litany to calm my nerves. “Greg Jackson…” I halt, unable to remember the important bit. Was it something about his first car? Getting a royal flush at a Pai-Gow table?
I take a deep breath and look around. Sickly yellow fluorescents in the stuccoed ceiling light the room, and it is so large and so dim that I cannot see the other three walls. Thousands, millions, of beige five-drawer filing cabinets form row after row, like titan’s ribs thrusting up from the floor. Directly ahead of me is a ladder leading up into a hole in the ceiling that pours forth a bright, clean light.
‘Five, Four, Three, Two, One.’ My breath and heart slow and I do my best to assess my situation. Almost immediately I recognize the opportunity before me and set the file and the peel down on the floor. I walk to the nearest cabinet and pull open the third drawer up.
Michael Stravin, Louis Hearth, Allen Riker. I close my eyes and accept defeat. The files seem to be random, and there’s no way I could find mine before Jack comes looking for me. I laugh to myself, suddenly realizing there was probably no way I could find myself if I spent the rest of my life in this room.
I sigh and gather Loretta’s file and peel, walking calmly to the ladder. Placing the peel in my pocket and straining my jaw to hold the file between my teeth, I begin to climb.
My muscles are on fire by the time the light above draws near and I climb blinking and half-blind into The Fat Lady’s office.
I see her hand thrust in front of me from my right, its thick fingers curled along the edges of the pale white pillow of her palm. Understanding, I fish the peel out of my pocket and gently lay it down into her grasp.
My eyes adjust to the light as she walks to the other end of the room. Her body defies the word enormous, looking alien in its proportions. She wears a flowing white dress, embroidered subtly and gracefully, which somehow flatters her ample form. Her wrist is forever lost beneath the joining of hand and forearm, looking almost like independent parts held together and animated by magnetism. She glides across the floor with stunning grace, the subtle movement of the fat under her taught and unblemished skin belying impossible strength.
Before I can even open my mouth, she turns and shushes me, the air rushing out of her tiny doll’s lips like a hull breach and her steel-grey eyes broaching no argument. She comes to a halt in front of a table supporting a strange device settled into a nest of wires. The Fat Lady lifts the smoked-plastic lid of the device and places Loretta’s orange peel onto a shiny metal disk in the center of the contraption. Closing the lid, she produces a pocket-watch from somewhere on her person and stares fixedly at it’s ticking hands.
I can’t help but hold my breath until finally, her finger strikes a button to the left of the device, and she leans her head back and closes her eyes in apparent ecstasy. A tone begins to swell out from unseen speakers, joined by another, and another. The chord layers to an impossible complexity. Tears are welling in my eyes as the crescendoing wave of sound shakes my bones and overpowers the beat of my heart. I think I can hear a soft voice, layered upon itself ad infinitum, a lifetime compressed into a single note.
The Fat Lady’s breast trembles and swells impossibly as she drinks the sound in. And then suddenly it stops, leaving only the echo of a scream ringing in my ears. The Fat Lady smiles and softly exhales, opening her eyes. Sated, she walks to the other side of the room and delicately pulls a small platinum disk from a complicated turntable, slips it into a dust jacket, labels it, and places it on one of the shelves lining the walls of her office.
“I talked to her, to Loretta.” I blurt out without thinking.
The Fat Lady glides to the mahogany desk and sits down in her massive, plush chair before locking me in her eyes. “I know, it’s been accounted for.”
“And others, for years.” I add, unable to stop.
“Yes, them too.” She smiles. “How long have you worked here?”
“I… I don’t know.” I stammer.
“You have a question, don’t you? Something you want to know?” Her doll’s mouth tightens to a point.
“What happened to her, to Loretta?”
The Fat lady laughs. “You already know that.”
I do, I admit to myself.
“Be a dear and put that back for me, would you?” She gestures at Loretta’s file and pulls a large ledger from one of her desk’s drawers. “In the cabinet to the left of the ladder. They’re sorted by date.” Her eyes narrow and a smirk dances across the corner of her lip, then she lifts a pen from the desk and begins scribbling in the ledger, calling the audience to a close.
Slowly, I turn myself away from her and descend the ladder.
I open one of the cabinet’s drawers at random and begin thumbing through the files comparing dates. I find Loretta’s place, and then there it is, printed on a folder thinner than most in a neat courier font. My name. Loretta’s folder falls to the floor, and I rip my file from its place. I don’t even have to sort through the pages, the italics are right there at the top of the list.
Vanilla smoke stings my wide eyes and a hard, wrinkled hand plucks the file from my numb fingers. I turn around, but he’s already gone.
I close my eyes, and find the words burned into the blackness. ‘Desperately wishes he was something more than he really is.’
___
I rush blindly down the street to the pawnshop and Kellen Walker buys a nine-millimeter Lugar. I get into the car and speed home, hoping I’m not late for my appointment with The Fat Lady.
submitted by duketuring to DarkTales [link] [comments]


2020.09.24 01:05 hotburnedpork Appraisal came in below selling price, north Oceanside CA

660k offer accepted, appraisal came in at 640. Other than a couple minor termite nests(house will be tented) and some small repair items, home inspection was great. Appraisal was a “desktop” appraisal based on data and shitty photos from the sellers realtor(family friend putting in very little effort). Backstory on the house: Listed at 699k, no bids after 2 weeks on the market, reduced to 669k no bids after a week, reduced to 659k and only two offers including ours. We offered 660k, 3% earnest, 20% down on a conventional loan, no contingencies, they accepted. Going back to the seller with the appraisal and inspection report today offering 640k based on the appraisal. What are the odds they go down to the appraised value? Asking because the home doesn’t show well and was a terrible listing in a great neighborhood with great schools, the home is dated, but easily updated. If anyone who answers has questions or needs more context, please ask. I’m just curious what experience any SD county realtors may have to offer in this situation(our agent is great and I trust him), but Reddit has given me accurate and solid insight previously specificallly on the sub. Thanks!
submitted by hotburnedpork to RealEstate [link] [comments]


2020.09.23 17:22 djpastie Looking for advice on a new router for multiple users

Hello, I am currently using a Netgear Nighthawk AC1900 47000 with 1 GB Download and 500 mbps Upload, and all the devices (3 Laptops, a PC, 4 cell phones, along with a nest and few other devices) connected to this router continually lose connection to the internet, but stay connected to the device. After resetting the router this problem is fixed, but this happens sometimes multiple time a day, and can be very frustrating when anyone is in a meeting, or in the middle of work/ school work. I checked to ensure all firmware was up to date. I am posting to see if a new router or modem would fix this problem or if there is something I can try to aid this problem. If you need any further information please let me know. Thank you!
submitted by djpastie to HomeNetworking [link] [comments]


2020.09.23 15:20 Deca_Dytto MotMG: Reconstruction is here!

MotMG: Reconstruction is here!
Realm Reconstruction Crew!
The day has arrived. The biggest MotMG to date begins today! Put on your hard hats and reflective vests and get in the spirit of Reconstruction - take part in the continuous rebuilding of our beloved game into something ever better! There is always plenty for us to do at the (Re)construction site, and you’re about to dig into the heftiest patch notes to date. Fitting them all into this post would be unwieldy, so there is a link further down to all the minutiae of what has been going on behind the scenes. And there will be plenty for you to do, too, if you take a look at the MotMG Reconstruction Event Calendar!

https://preview.redd.it/lp8q19513wo51.png?width=1920&format=png&auto=webp&s=7e0079a084100a11aacbd2c1ab94c2121910efb8

Farewell, Flash Client

Realm of the Mad God: Exalt stands on the shoulders of the giant that was Flash. Many of us (and you, we think) have fond memories not only of our own little big Flash game, but of the creativity and fun that this unique development ecosystem made possible. With Flash going away for good later this year, the time has come for Realm Exalt to hop out of the nest and soar. Starting today, Flash will no longer be an option on Steam, the website will not host the Flash client, and Realm will no longer be on Kongregate. Farewell, old friend! Big F...

Month of the Mad God: Reconstruction

For the most meticulous of the crew, here is a very exhaustive list of changes. For those eager for a review, read on!

The New Systems

Vital Combat

Vital Combat is a brand new gameplay system that affects Health and Mana regeneration via Pet abilities and the Vitality and Wisdom stats. Vital Combat is meant to address the long-term health of the metagame by looking at just how players are challenged by the content.
  • When you are hit by a certain amount of damage, you will enter the In Combat state. This puts your WIS and VIT regeneration at half speed*, and adds a 2 second delay to your Pet’s abilities. The condition lasts for a base duration of 7 seconds but it is affected by your Vitality. For every 5 VIT the duration is reduced by 0.2 seconds with a minimum duration of 1 second.
  • *The regeneration speed of VIT and WIS has been doubled, which means that while In Combat you will passively regenerate as before, and while Out of Combat you will regenerate much faster!
  • The amount of damage to enter the In Combat state is scaled based on your Defense. You can see this Combat Trigger value by hovering over the new Vital Combat tooltip above your Fame bar.
More detailed info here!

Exaltations

Exaltation is the new endgame progression system, which will reward you with permanent upgrades for the stats of your Exalted classes. It will revolve around the endgame dungeons:
Dungeon Stat
The Nest Dexterity
The Shatters Attack
Fungal Cavern Wisdom
Crystal Cavern Vitality
Lost Halls Defense
Cultist Hideout Speed
The Void Mana
Oryx's Sanctuary Life
Whenever your 8/8 character finishes one of these dungeons by killing the boss, the completion is counted in the Exaltation system towards the corresponding stat for the class you are using. If you reach a certain amount of completions in each stat, you get stat bonuses. You can reach up to 5 stat bonuses in each stat. Every stat bonus gives you an increase of +1 to the stat (+5 to HP/MP), and they are permanent for that class. Forever. The Exaltation rewards certainly do not end with stat bonuses!
  • The Fast Learner Exaltations will give you a permanent bonus to XP gain on a certain class every time you achieve a certain amount of any stat bonuses on that class.
  • The Mastery Exaltations will give you a weapon attack damage bonus when you achieve a certain amount of each stat bonus of a class.
  • The Armor Proficiency Exaltations will decrease the time spent In Combat when you achieve bonuses in all stats on classes that wear the same armor type.
  • The Weapon Proficiency Exaltations will reward you with higher drop rates on all items when you achieve bonuses in all stats on classes that use the same weapon type.
Not only will your Exalted classes be powerful, they’ll look it too! If you achieve the impressive feat of maxing out all stats on a class, you will receive the Exalted Skin for that class and decorate your Vault with new Golden Statues.
And while you are busy grinding out stat bonuses for any and all classes, you will be receiving these exclusive Pet Skins... until you max out all of them, and receive a permanent 10% drop rate on all classes!
More detailed info here!

The Appetizer

This gourmand has a twisted relationship with food, hoarding it for himself yet utilizing it as a humiliating weapon. You will meet this new event boss next week and have the chance to punch him until he turns into little piles of food himself!
The Appetizer will spawn in the Mountains after all Red Demons are defeated. Along with him, three Food Piles spawn across the map. The Appetizer teleports to the food piles one by one and his properties change based on the Food Pile that he is next to.
The Food Piles will have a chance to drop their respective type of Food or a Mystery Stat Pot. They will also drop a guaranteed Food Voucher x1 token which stacks up to 40. You can double click the stack to turn it into a Food item - you can see the possible options in the full changelog document. The Appetizer will also drop a guaranteed Food Voucher x1. He can also drop any of the five Food Pile foods, Mystery Stat Pots, and a hefty Rogue Skin.
More detailed info here!

The Reconstructed

Realm is a decade old game that is still growing and moving forward, and we do not want older content to be left behind and feel obsolete. There must be a place and purpose for all, and shiny new sprites to boot!
The Pirate Cave, Spider Den, Snake Pit, Undead Lair, and Abyss of Demons have received dramatic overhauls in all aspects, with some much lighter changes to the Forest Maze as well. Even the Keyper has seen improvements and balance tweaks! We’ve got plenty of details in the full changelog linked earlier, so we recommend checking it out!
More detailed info here!
Stay up to date on which events are going to be active during MotMG in this thread. The thread will be updated each week.

UT and ST Increased Drop Rates

As we mentioned last Friday, the old Archer and Rogue ST sets are now dropping with an increased drop rate!
The majority of the UTs and STs across the board are now also dropping with an increased drop rate as well! A complete list of individual items with buffed rates has been included in the full changelog document.
More detailed info here!

Other Fixes and Improvements

  • Randomly offset ground tile sprites now work on Exalt, allowing for more natural looking textures like grass with less obvious tiling.
  • Added Vital Combat and Exaltation pages to the in-game Journal.
  • Fixed “Player on Top“ option to not show other players’ projectiles and status effects on your character.
  • Fixed DC issues:
    • when trading with a player who has special characters in the name.
    • when wearing the following set: Divinity + Seal of the Battle God + Mercy's Bane + Ring of Unbound Attack.
    • when using Cursed Spire Spell and changing the area right before it explodes.
  • Fixed display issue of the Immune status on enemies.
  • Fixed issue with a character’s death not showing in the graveyard.
  • Fixed various tooltips typos.

Misc

  • Soon, you will find out who won in the Make a Wish raffle here. Rewards to be sent soon!
  • Since MotMG is all about change, we are now selling some items for fame in the Nexus Shop. Check it out in-game!
  • New skins!
  • We have partnered with new content creators:
  • Squirtle is now known as Ahctane - Twitch and YouTube
  • The Dungeon Art Contest is over! We are currently reviewing all entries and will update you soon on the winners!

Discord Reconstruction Event

Head over to the official Discord for a special event that ties in to the F2P campaign! By making progress in the campaign, you'll be able to help reconstruct dungeons with the help of other players on discord. Earn tokens that can be redeemed for raffle tickets with a prize pool of 48,000 Realm Gold! For more information, check the #event-info on the server.
Last but not least, getting all of the MotMG content and features to you took a lot of time and effort not only on our part, but on our amazing Testers and UGC members who created the stunning decorations you can all see in the Vault, Nexus and GHall; the creative construction versions of the encounters you’re about to see; and the fun and colorful character and pet skins! So, once again, we want to express our gratitude for your support and dedication! We know it might be hard sometimes but your patience and expertise is one of the main factors that drives Realm of the Mad God forward!

Join us on:

Discord
Facebook
Twitter
submitted by Deca_Dytto to RotMG [link] [comments]


2020.09.23 15:17 Deca_Baragon MotMG Events Updates

Hey there Reconstructors!
This is the thread where you will get more details on the ongoing live events. It will be updated weekly with what’s to come, so make sure to check it out with the beginning of each event!
You can check the dates on those in the MotMG Reconstruction Event Calendar!
This week you can take part in the following events:

x1.5 XP and Loot Events

Realm Events

Look forward to meeting the Appetizer for the very first time from 09/28 - 12:00 PM UTC until 10/04 - 12:00 PM UTC!

Oryx's Sanctuary Rune Unlocks

This week, the Helmet Rune will be automatically unlocked after defeating Oryx in the Wine Cellar!

Chest Challenges

 
All drops - infographic!

The Nest Drops:

Shatters Drops:

Lost Halls Drops:

Join us on:

Discord
Facebook
Twitter
submitted by Deca_Baragon to RotMG [link] [comments]


2020.09.23 12:52 pricklywit Operation not Permitted Error

Hi, I have created the basic script below that scans a directory for wav files and copies them into a nested directory based on file attributes.
""" Script that copies data from Peersonic RPA3 into directory using file name, date and time """ import datetime as dt import os import shutil import time from pathlib import Path # Function to check if survey is dusk or dawn def duskdawn(file): filetime = dt.datetime.fromtimestamp(os.path.getmtime(file)) if file_time.time() > dt.time(12): return "Dusk" else: return "Dawn" def file_date(file): return time.strftime('%d.%m.%Y', time.localtime(os.path.getmtime(file))) def client(file): return file.name[0:3] client_lst = ['IES', 'DEC', 'TEP'] # Directory of files path = ("/Volumes/BATrecordeWAVFILES.DIR") for entry in os.scandir(path): source = entry.path perm = os.stat(entry).st_mode client_name = (client(entry)) if entry.name.endswith(".WAV"): if client_name in client_lst: client_name = client_name else: client_name = "unknown" destination = (f"/Volumes/Seagate Exp/Work 2020/Bat recordings/{client_name}/{file_date(entry)}/{duskdawn(entry)}") Path(destination).mkdir(parents=True, exist_ok=True) shutil.copy2(source, destination) 
Initially I used the standard `shutil.copy()` function and this worked fine. However, I need to keep the original file metadata so need to use `shutil.copy2()` instead. When I use this one I get the following error:
Traceback (most recent call last): File "/Volumes/Seagate Exp/Work 2020/file_copy.py", line 43, in  shutil.copy2(source, destination) File "/Library/Frameworks/Python.framework/Versions/3.6/lib/python3.6/shutil.py", line 258, in copy2 copystat(src, dst, follow_symlinks=follow_symlinks) File "/Library/Frameworks/Python.framework/Versions/3.6/lib/python3.6/shutil.py", line 218, in copystat lookup("chflags")(dst, st.st_flags, follow_symlinks=follow) PermissionError: [Errno 1] Operation not permitted: '/Volumes/Seagate Exp/Work 2020/Bat recordings/unknown/31.12.2014/Dusk/@AAA_000.WAV' 
What is going on here that causes this issue?
submitted by pricklywit to learnpython [link] [comments]


2020.09.23 07:55 FishStyxRP AAR - Bridging the divide. 2020 - 19 - 15

Background
This is the final chapter of a 3 run series that establishes a relationship between Kate, the cafe owner, and the OU. Now that the Cafe is going to be a meeting place for Runners and members of the OU and will be used to plan future operations, the Trolls dug a tunnel to connect it to the OU. To do this they used mining equipment and a mage sustaining silence spells and physical barriers to contain the noise and dust.
Meet
The player meet the J who offers to become a contact in exchange for their help. Also, a girl named Rachel has gone missing and her employer in the OU has offered the team 40k to find her.
Run
The players are eager to jump into the death pit and just start killing, but decide to do a bit of legwork first. They use a contact and find a person in the OU who might have some information, a guy named Sol who runs a ghoul soup kitchen. They meet with him and learn about a cult of ghoul mages that formed when a split with a coven occurred. They learn about the specialty of each mage.
Recon with fly spies find that the entrance to the ghoul hive is littered with rats, upon assensing and an arcane check, they find that the rats have Eyes of the Pack cast on them. What happens here on out is basically a fight going down two tunnel sections and into the main hive.
Aftermath
Kate’s Cafe is now open as an IC chat room and is also an entrance to the OU.
submitted by FishStyxRP to NeonAAR [link] [comments]


2020.09.23 02:48 normancrane Iris [1/3]

Part 1 <-- You are here.
Part 2 [soon]
Part 3 [soon]

Iris

The first person to ever tell me the theory was Iris. It was nighttime in 2015, and we were lying on an old mattress on the roof of a four-storey apartment building in a university town in southern Ontario. A party was going on downstairs to which we’d both been invited and from whose monotony we’d helped each other escape through an ordinary white door that said “No entrance”. It was summer. I remember the heat waves and the radiating warmth of the asphalt. Our semester was over and we had started existing until the next one started in the way all students exist when they don’t spend their months off at home or touring Europe. I could feel the bass thumping from below. I could see the infinite stars in the cloudless sky. The sound seemed so disconnected from the image. Iris and I weren’t dating, we were just friends, but she leaned toward me on the mattress that night until I could feel her breathing on my neck, and, with my eyes pointed spaceward, she began: “What if…”
Back then it was pure speculation, a wild fantasy inspired by the THC from the joint we were passing back and forth and uninhibited by the beer we’d already drunk. There was nothing scientific or even philosophical about Iris’ telling of it. The theory was a flight of imagination influenced by her name and personalized by the genetic defect of her eyes, which her doctors had said would render her blind by fifty. Even thirty-five seemed far away. It’s heartbreaking now to know that Iris never did live to experience her blindness—her own genetic fate interrupted by the genetic fate of the world—but that night, imagination, the quality Einstein called more important than knowledge, lit up both our brains in synapses of neon as we shared our joint, sucking it into glowing nothingness, Iris paranoid that she’d wake up one morning in eternal darkness despite the doctors’ assurances that her blindness would occur gradually, and me fearing that I would never find love, never share my life with anyone, but soothed at least by Iris’ words and her impossible ideas because Einstein was right, and imagination is magical enough to cure anything.

2025, Pre-

I graduated with a degree in one field, found a low paying job in another, got married, worked my way to slightly better pay, wanted to have a child, bought a Beagle named Pillow as a temporary substitute, lived in an apartment overlooking a green garbage bin that was always full of beer cans and pizza boxes, and held my wife, crying, when we found out that we couldn’t have children. Somewhere along the way my parents died and Kurt Schwaller, a physicist from the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology, proved a grand theory of everything that rather than being based on the vibrations of strings, was based on a property of particles called viscous time force. I never understood the details. To me they lacked imagination. The overriding point, the experts on television told us, was that given enough data and computing power we could now predict the outcome of anything. The effect was that no one wanted to study theoretical physics and everyone wanted to make breakthroughs in data collection systems and biological hardware. Hackers created a version of Linux that ran from DNA. Western Digital released the first working holographic storage drive. The NSA, FSB, BND and other agencies rushed to put their suddenly valuable mass of unprocessed raw spy data to prognostic use. A Chinese bookmaker known only by the nick ##!! wrote a piece of Python code that could predict the outcomes of hockey games. Within a month, the NHL and KHL were scrambling to come up with ways of saving their leagues by making them more unpredictable. They introduced elements of chance: power plays without penalties, a tilting ice surface, fluctuating rules that sometimes allowed for icings and offsides and sometimes not, and, finally, a pre-game lottery by which the names of the players on both teams were put into a pot and randomly drawn into two squads. Given enough variables, the strategy did thwart the code, but the inherent unfairness of the innovations alienated the players, the draft made owners question why they were paying the salaries of superstars who played against them half of the time, and the fans simply stopped paying attention to a league full of teams for which their already dwindling loyalty had bottomed out. Besides, the code was basic. ##!! had room to expand. The KHL folded first, followed by the NHL, and then the other sports leagues, preemptively. They didn’t bother to wait until their own codes were broken. I remember seeing an interview with ##!! while this was still front page news. The reporter, a perpetually smiling big-breasted blonde with blindingly white teeth, asked him if he thought that hockey could be rescued by the creation of roving blue lines that would continually alter the relative sizes of both offensive zones and the neutral zone. ##!! answered that he didn’t know what a blue line was because he’d never watched a hockey game in his life. His voice was cold, objective, and there was something terrifyingly inhuman about the idea that a person with no knowledge of a subject could nevertheless understand it so completely. Content had become a mere input of form.
By 2025, mainstream interest in the theory of everything faded, not because the theory was wrong but because it was too right and too abstract and now there weren’t any young theoretical physicists to help explain it using cute graphics on YouTube. We consumed what we understood and passively accepted the fallout while going on with our daily lives. The people who did understand made money, but for the rest of us the consequences were less than their potential, because even with enough time, memory and microprocessors the most we could know was the what and the when, not the why. For the governments and corporations pouring taxes and tax-free earnings into complex models of world domination, that didn’t matter. They weren’t interested in cause. They were in the business of exploiting certainty to gain power. As long as they could predict lightning, they were satisfied. If they could make it, all the better. Away from the cutting edge, however, like ants or ancients, what we craved to know was where the lightning came from, what it meant, and on that issue the theory was silent. As Kurt Schwaller put it in a speech to the United Nations, “All I’ve given you is a tool—a microscope to magnify the minutes, so to speak—with which to investigate in perfect detail the entirety of our interrelations. But the investigations still have to made, ladies and gentlemen. Have a hay stack, look for the needle. Know there might not be one.”
In January, my wife and I began a fertility treatment for which we’d been saving for years. It was undoubtedly the reason we became so emotionally involved in the media attention around Aiko, the lovely, black-haired and fashionable Crown Princess of Japan, who along with her husband was going through the same ordeal that we were. For a few months, it seemed as if the whole world sat on the edges of its seat, wishing for this beautiful royal couple to conceive. And we sat on two, our own and one somewhere in an exotic Japan updated by the royal Twitter feed. It strikes me now that royalty has always fascinated the proles, a feeling that historically went in tandem with hatred, respect or awe, but it was the Japanese who held our attentions the longest and the most genuinely in the twenty-first century, when equality had more or less rendered a hereditary ruling class obsolete. The British declared themselves post-Christian in 2014 and post-Royal in 2021, the European Court of Justice ruled all other European royals invalid in 2022, and the Muslim monarchs pompously degraded themselves one-by-one into their own exiles and executions. Only the Japanese line survived, adapting to the times by refusing to take itself seriously on anything but the most superficial level. They dressed nicely, acted politely and observed a social protocol that we admired without wanting to follow it ourselves. Before he died, my father had often marvelled that the Second World War began with Japan being led by an emperor god, and ended with the American occupation forcing him to renounce his divinity. The Japanese god had died because MacArthur willed it and Hirohito spoke it. Godhood was like plaque. If your mother told you to brush your teeth, off it went, provided you used the right flavour of Colgate. Kings had once ruled by divine right. By 2025, the Crown Princess of Japan ruled our hearts merely by popular approval. She was our special friend, with whom we were all on intimate and imaginary terms. Indeed, on the day she died—on the day they all died—Princess Aiko’s was the most friended account on Facebook.
That’s why March 27, 2025, was such a joyous occasion for us. In hindsight, it’s utterly sick to associate the date with happiness of any kind, but history must always be understood in context, and the context of the announcement was a wirelessly connected world whose collective hopes came suddenly true to the jingle of a breaking news story on the BBC. I was in the kitchen sauteing onions when I heard it. Cutting them had made me cry and my eyes were still red. Then the announcer’s voice broke as he was setting up his intro, and in a video clip that was subsequently rebroadcast, downloaded and parodied close to a billion times in the one hundred thirty-two days that followed, he said: “The Crown Princess of Japan is pregnant!”
I ran to the living room and hugged my wife, who’d fallen to her knees in front of the wall-mounted monitor. Pillow was doing laps on and off the sofa. The BBC cut away from the announcer’s joyful face to a live feed from Japan. As I held my wife, her body felt warm and full of life. The top of her jeans cut into her waist. Her tears wetted the top of my shirt sleeve. Both of our phones started to buzz—emails and Twitter notifications streaming in. On the monitor, Aiko and her husband, both of their angular faces larger than life in 110” 16K, waved to the crowd in Tokyo and the billions watching around the world. They spoke in Japanese and a woman on the BBC translated, but we hardly needed to know her exact words to understand the emotions. If them, why not also us? I knew my wife was having the same thought. We, too, could have a family. Then I smelled burning oil and the pungency of onions and I remembered my sauteing. I gently removed my arms from around my wife’s shoulders and ran back to the kitchen, still listening to Aiko’s voice and its polite English echo, and my hands must have been shaking, or else my whole body was shaking, because after I had turned down the heat I reached for the handle of the frying pan, knocked the pan off the stove top instead, and burned myself while stupidly trying to catch it before it fell, clattering, to the floor. The burned onions splattered. I’d cracked one of the kitchen tiles. My hand turned pale and I felt a numbness before my skin started to overflow with the warmth of pain. Without turning off the broadcast, my wife shooed me downstairs to the garage where we kept our car and drove me to the hospital.
The Toronto streets were raucous. Horns honked. J-pop blared. In the commotion we nearly hit a pedestrian, a middle-aged white woman pushing a baby carriage, who’d cut across Lake Shore without looking both ways. She had appeared suddenly from behind a parked transport—and my wife instinctively jerked the car from the left lane to the right, scraping our side mirror against the truck but saving two lives. The woman barely noticed. She disappeared into a crowd of Asian kids on the other side of street who were dancing to electronica and waving half a dozen Japanese flags, one of which was the Rising Sun Flag, the military flag of Imperial Japan. Clutching my wrist in the hope it would dull the pain in my hand, I wondered how many of them knew about the suffering Japanese soldiers had inflicted on countless Chinese in the name of that flag. To the right, Lake Ontario shone and sparkled in the late afternoon light. A passenger jet took off from Toronto Island Airport and climbed into the sky.
In the hospital waiting room, I sat next to a woman who was reading a movie magazine with Nuri Bilge Ceylan’s face on the cover. The Cannes film festival was coming up. My wife checked me in at the reception desk. The woman beside me put down her magazine and told me that she was there with her son, as if needing to justify her presence. I affirmed by nodding. He’d hurt his leg playing soccer for a local Armenian junior boys team, she went on. I said I’d hurt myself frying onions and that I was here with my wife. She said my wife was pretty and asked if I liked movies. Without meaning to do it, I tried to guess her age—unsuccessfully—and proceeded to imagine having doggy style sex with her. She had dark eyes that barely blinked and plump thighs. When I started to feel guilty, I answered her question: sometimes I watched movies at home, but I hadn’t been to a theatre in a decade. When my wife sat down, I let the two of them talk about the woman’s son. I was having trouble concentrating. I took my phone out of my pocket and read all the new emails about the royal conception, then stared at the seconds hand going slowly around its digital clock face on my home screen, wondering why we so often emulated the limitations of analogue machines on devices that were no longer bound by them. I switched my clock type to a digital readout. Now the seconds no longer rotated but flickered away. They called my name over the crackling intercom and a nurse led me to one of the empty rooms. “How about that baby,” he said while we walked. I didn’t see his face, only the shaved back of his head. “The things they can do these days, even for infertile couples.”
I waited for over thirty minutes for a doctor. When one came in, she inspected my hand for less than ten seconds before telling me that I was fine and hinting that I shouldn’t have wasted her time by coming to the emergency room. She had high cheek bones, thin lips and bony wrists. Her tablet had a faux clipboard wallpaper. Maybe I had only misinterpreted her tone. “How about that baby,” I said.
“It’s not a baby yet,” she answered.
This time her tone was impossible to misinterpret. I was only repeating what the nurse had said, I told myself. But I didn’t say that to her. Instead, I imagined her coming home at night to an empty apartment, furnished possibly in a minimalistic Japanese or Swedish style, brewing a cup of black coffee and settling into an armchair to re-read a Simone de Beauvoir novel. I was about to imagine having sex with her when I caught hold of myself and wondered what was up with me today.
When I got back to the waiting room, my wife was no longer there—but the Armenian woman was. She pointed down the hall and told me a room number. She said that sometime after I left, my wife had gotten a cramp and started to vomit all over the floor. Someone was still mopping up. The other people in the waiting room, which was filling up, gave me tactfully dirty looks, either because I was with the vomiter or because I’d shirked my responsible by being away during the vomiting. Irrationally, I wiped my own mouth and fled down the hall.
Inside the numbered room, my wife was sitting hunched over on an observation bed, slowly kicking her feet back and forth. “Are you OK?” I asked.
“Come here,” she said.
I did, and sat beside her on the bed. I repeated my question. She still smelled a little of vomit, but she looked up at me like the world’s luckiest puppy, her eyes big and glassy, and said, “Norman, I’m pregnant.”
That’s all she could say—
That’s all either of us could say for a while.
We just sat there on the examination bed like a pair of best friends on a swing set after dark, dangling our feet and taking turns pulling each other closer. “Are you sure?” I finally asked. My voice was hoarse. I sounded like a frog.
“Yes.” She kicked the heel of my shoe with the rubber toe of hers. “We’re going to have a baby.”
It was beautiful. The most wonderful moment of my life. I remembered the day we met and our little marriage ceremony. I thought about being a father, and felt positively terrified, and about being a better husband, and felt absolutely determined, and as I kissed my wife there in the little hospital room with its sterile green walls, I imagined making love to her. I kept imagining it as we drove back to the apartment through partying Toronto streets. “Not since the Maple Leafs won the Stanley Cup!” the radio announcer proclaimed—before I turned him off. I also turned off my phone and my wife’s phone. No more buzzing. In the underground parking lot, I leaned over and licked her soft neck. I pushed her through the open apartment door and straight into the living room, onto the sofa, and wished I could be the cushions beneath her thighs and the air invading her lungs. Pillow barked a greeting and wagged her tail. The monitor on the wall showed talking heads and fertility experts. I unbuttoned my wife’s blouse. She unbuckled my belt. The picture on the monitor dissolved to a close-up of Aiko’s smiling face. My wife and I took turns sliding off each other’s jeans. I kissed her bare stomach. She ran her hands through my hair. I dimmed the lights. We made love.
When we were done it was starry nighttime. My wife bandaged my hand. We turned off the television. The silence was refreshing because people on television too often talk like they’re trying to push you off a ledge. My wife excused me from the duty of making supper because of my ineptness with the frying pan, and handed me a leash instead. I hooked it up to Pillow’s collar and took her outside. While she peed, I gazed up at the sky and identified the Big Dipper. It and the Little Dipper were the only constellations I could identify without using a smartphone app. After Pillow finished, we ducked into a nook and I peed, too. The March sky was amazingly clear of smog. My urine splashed on the concrete and I felt embarrassingly primal. I breathed in, shook out the last drops and zipped up.
In the apartment, we ate grilled portabella mushrooms topped with parmesan and parsley and drank brown rice tea. My wife had changed into fresh clothes. I had changed into fresh skin. Every time she said “mom” and “dad”, the words discharged trickles of electricity up and down my peripheral nervous system. We were happy; we were going to have a baby. The whole world was happy; the Crown Princess of Japan of was going to have a baby. The sounds of drunken urban celebrations drifted in through our bedroom window all night like fog, and we barely slept.

2025, Post-

Gold is precious because it’s rare. Now close your eyes and imagine that the next time you open them, everything in your world will be golden: your kitchen table, the bananas you bought on the way home from work yesterday, your bottle of shampoo, even your teeth. Now blink. You’re not alone. The market’s flooded. Gold isn’t rare anymore. It’s everywhere. Which means that it’s worth about as much as its weight in mud, because there’s nothing intrinsically good about gold. Can you write on your gold table? It scratches. Surely you can’t eat your golden fruit. Your shampoo’s not a liquid anymore, so your hair’s already starting to get greasy. And if you do find something to eat that’s not made of metal, how long will those gold teeth last before you grind them into finely polished nubs?
For two days the Earth glittered.
For two days we lived in a daze of perfection.
And then, on March 29, a researcher working with lab mice at Stanford University noticed something odd. All of his female mice were pregnant. He contacted several of his colleagues who were also working with mice, rats, and monkeys. All their female animals were pregnant, too. Some of the colleagues had wives and girlfriends. They took innocent-seeming trips to their local pharmacies and bought up all the available pregnancy tests. At home, women took test after test and all of them showed positive. By midnight, the researchers had drafted a joint letter and sent copies of it to the major newspapers in their countries. On the morning of March 30, the news hit.
When I checked my Twitter feed after breakfast, #impregtoo was already trending. Throughout the day, Reddit lit up with increasingly bizarre accounts of pregnancies that physically couldn’t be but, apparently, were. Post-menopausal women, celibate women, prepubescent girls, women who’d had their uteruses removed only to discover that their reproductive systems had spontaneously regenerated like the severed tales of lizards. Existing early stage pregnancies aborted themselves and re-fertilized, like a system rebooting. Later term pregnancies developed Matryoshka-like pregnancies nested within pregnancies. After a while, I stopped reading, choosing to spend time with my wife instead. As night fell, we reclined on the sofa, her head on my chest, Pillow curled up in our tangle of feet, the television off, and the streets of Toronto eerily quiet save for the intermittent blaring of far off sirens, as any lingering doubts about the reality of the situation melted away like the brief, late season snow that floated gently down from the sky, blackening the streets.
On March 30, the World Health Organization issued a communique confirming that based on the available data it was reasonable to assume that all female mammals were pregnant. No cause was identified. It urged any woman who was not pregnant to step forward immediately. Otherwise, the communique offered no guidance. It indicated merely that the organization was already working with governments around the world to prepare for a massive influx of human population in approximately nine months’ time. Most places, including Toronto, reacted with stunned panic. Non-essential workplaces and schools were decried closed. People were urged to stay indoors. Hospitals prepared for possible complications. A few supermarkets ran out of canned food and there were several bank runs, but nothing happened that the existing systems couldn’t handle. Populations kept their nerve. Highway and air traffic increased slightly as people rushed to be with their friends, families and gynaecologists. We spent the entire day in our apartment and let Pillow pee in the tub. Except for the conspiracy theorists, who believed that the Earth was being cosmically pollinated by aliens, most of us weren’t scared to go outside, but we were scared of the unknown, and we preferred to process that fear in the comfort of our own dens.
The New York Times ran a front page editorial arguing for an evaluation of the situation using Kurt Schwaller’s theory of everything. In conjunction with The Washington Post, The Guardian and The Wikipedia Foundation, a website was set up asking users for technical help, monetary donations and the sharing of any surplus computing power.
The project quickly ran into problems. To accurately predict anything, the theory of everything needed sufficient data, and, on April 2, cryptome.org published a series of leaked emails between the French Minister of Health and a high-ranking member of World Health Organization that proved the latter’s communique had been disingenuous at best. Externally, the World Health Organization had concluded that all female mammals were pregnant. That remained true. However, it had failed to admit an even more baffling development: the wombs of all female mammals had inexplicably become impenetrable to all rays and materials that had so far been tried against them. For all intents and purposes, there was no way to see inside the womb, or to destroy it. The only way to revert the body to its natural form, to terminate the pregnancy, was to kill the woman—an experiment that, according to the high-ranking member of the World Health Organization, the French government had helped conduct on unwilling women in Mali. Both parties issued repeated denials until a video surfaced showing the murders. I couldn’t bring myself to watch it. They spun their denials into arguments about the necessity of sacrificing lives for the greater good.
Reminded once again of the deception inherent in politics, many turned to religion, but the mainstream religions were hesitant to react. They offered few opinions and no answers. The fringe religions split into two camps. Some leaders welcomed this development, the greatest of all known miracles, while others denounced the same as a universal and unnatural punishment for our collective sins of hedonism, egoism and pride. The most successful of all was the Tribe of Akna, a vaguely mystical Maya revival cult that sprang up seemingly overnight and was led by a Guatemalan freelance programmer named Salvador Abaroa. Although it originated in Mexico City, the Tribe spread as quickly across the world as the computer viruses that Abaroa was notorious for creating. On the Tribe’s homepage, Abaroa could be seen striking an antique brass gong and saying in Spanish-tinged English, “Like energy, life is never destroyed. Every one of us plays an integral part of the cosmic ecosystem. Every man, woman and virus.” Elsewhere on the website, you could buy self-published theological textbooks, listen to scratchy recordings of speeches by Alan Watts and read about the hypothesis that Maya thought was deeply connected to Buddhism because the Mayans had crossed the Pacific Ocean and colonized Asia.
But despite the apparent international cooperation happening at the highest levels, the first week of April was an atomizing period for the so-called people on the ground. We hunkered down. Most personal communication was digital. My wife and I exchanged emails with her parents and sister, but we met no one face-to-face, not even on Skype. We neither invited our neighbours to dinner nor were invited by them, despite how easy it was to walk down the hall and knock. I read far more than I wrote, and even when I did write, responding to a blog post or news story, I found it easier to relate to strangers than to the people I knew. My wife said I had a high tolerance for solitude. “Who do you know in the city?” she asked. Although we’d been living here together for three years, she still considered Toronto mine. She was the stranger, I was the native. I said that I knew a few people from work. She told me to call one of them I’d never called before. I did, and the next day’s sky was cloudless and sunny and there were five of us in the apartment: my wife and I, my friend Bakshi and his wife Jacinda, and their daughter, Greta. Greta drank apple juice while the rest of us drank wine, and all five of us gorged ourselves on freshly baked peach cobbler, laughing at silly faces and cracking immature jokes. It hardly registered for me that the majority of the room was unstoppably pregnant, but wasn’t that the point: to forget—if only for a few hours? Instead of watching the BBC, we streamed BDRips of Hayao Miyazaki movies from The Pirate Bay. Porco Rosso ruled the skies, castles flew, a Catbus arrived at its magical stop. Then Bakshi’s phone rang, and he excused himself from the table to take the call. When he returned, his face was grey. “What’s the matter?” Jacinda asked him. He was still holding the phone to his ear. “It’s Kurt Schwaller,” he said. “They just found his body. They think he killed himself.”
submitted by normancrane to cryosleep [link] [comments]


2020.09.23 01:28 ca_nemo Can a couple divorce but keep dating?

My wife and I opened our marriage 3 years ago as per her request. I admit I really didn't want to and was resentful of her that first year. Then my co-worker found out I was poly and hinted at a date. My girlfriend's mono and we've dating for the past 2 years.
I feel like my wife and I don't have the same level of compatibility that a married couple should. I think I would be much happier with her as my secondary partner instead of the married and nesting partner.
My girlfriend and I discussed our future plans and I feel like I should've married her. Our life goals match perfectly. I haven't said anything to my wife yet.
Is it a good idea for a divorced couple to keep dating each other? What's a good way of bringing up this topic to my wife?
submitted by ca_nemo to polyamory [link] [comments]


2020.09.22 23:50 f0gax Loop Through Multiple Files

This is a continuation of this project (https://www.reddit.com/PowerShell/comments/ikjqte/formatting_output_of_compareobject/).
This is where I ended up after that other post and just hand coding the paths:
"Comparing Configuration Files" out-file -append output9.txt "== Indicates the lines match." out-file -append output9.txt "" out-file -append output9.txt "For lines that do not match:" out-file -append output9.txt "=> Indicates the running file." out-file -append output9.txt "<= Indicates the reference (good) file." out-file -append output9.txt "" out-file -append output9.txt "Run date/time: $(Get-Date)" out-file -append output9.txt "--------------------------------------------------" out-file -append output9.txt function Get-webuiauth { "Checking authentication.config SERVERNAME" out-file -append output9.txt $a = gc "" %{$i = 1} { new-object psobject -prop @{LineNum=$i;Text=$_}; $i++} $b = gc "\\SERVERNAME\c$\" %{$i = 1} { new-object psobject -prop @{LineNum=$i;Text=$_}; $i++} Compare-Object $a $b -Property Text -PassThru -IncludeEqual -syncwindow 0 format-table -autosize out-file -append -width 1000 output9.txt "--------------------------------------------------" out-file -append output9.txt } get-webuiauth 
The next step is to work through some input files to populate the paths and server names. This is what I tried.
$sourcefile = "C:\Scripts\config_check\sourcepaths.txt" $vmfile = "C:\Scripts\config_check\vms.txt" $pathfile = "C:\Scripts\config_check\paths.txt" $outputfile = "output40.txt" function Get-webuiauth { ForEach ($sourcepath in (Get-Content -Path $sourcefile)) { $a = gc $sourcepath %{$i = 1} { new-object psobject -prop @{LineNum=$i;Text=$_}; $i++} #$sourcepath out-file -Filepath $outputfile -append ForEach ($vm in (Get-Content -Path $vmfile)) { ForEach ($path in (Get-Content -Path $pathfile)) { $serverpath = "\\$vm\c$\$path" $b = gc "$serverpath" %{$i = 1} { new-object psobject -prop @{LineNum=$i;Text=$_}; $i++} #$path out-file -Filepath $outputfile -append #$vm out-file -Filepath $outputfile -append } # END Path $serverpath out-file -Filepath $outputfile -append Compare-Object $a $b -Property Text -PassThru -IncludeEqual -syncwindow 0 format-table -autosize out-file -width 1000 $outputfile -append } #END VM #Compare-Object $a $b -Property Text -PassThru -IncludeEqual -syncwindow 0 format-table -autosize out-file -width 1000 $outputfile -append "--------------------------------------------------" out-file -Filepath $outputfile -append } # END SourcePath } # END Function get-webuiauth 
This seems to be the right track, but I can't actually get it to give me the correct output. I am getting all of the servers in the output file. But only the last of the source config files from the list and then comparing that to the remote config files. In other words, "source config file 6" is being compared to "remote config file 1" and 2 and 3 and so on until it reaches 6.
Either my nested loops are entirely wrong, or I have the Compare-Object line in the wrong place. Any ideas. Thank you.
submitted by f0gax to PowerShell [link] [comments]


2020.09.22 21:09 tamitart Unsure of telling?

So me (21f) and my boyfriend (22m) have been dating for four years, and live together (nesting partners??? I’m new to this poly thing OTL). We live with his mother and step father right now while we are trying to get our own place. I also have a girlfriend (24f) who lives in Canada a few hours away from us.
My parents know about my second partner, and my boyfriend very much knows about her, but I don’t know if I should tell HIS mother about my second partner? She will very much be around for holidays, important events, ect and I don’t want to lie about who she is. Do you think I should tell her or just..let him? Say nothing? How do you tell your partners family that you’re in an open/poly relationship without looking off?
submitted by tamitart to polyamory [link] [comments]


2020.09.22 20:13 MikeJesus The Birds Hate Me for What I Have Done

I have made a powerful enemy.
There’s approximately eighty thousand pigeons that roost within Prague city limits. They roam through the farmer’s markets looking for drops of food, they sit on the Art Noveau windowsills that loom near the city center, every figure of Czech history who has been rewarded with a statue is also rewarded with a pigeon patron who will sit and shit on top of their heads for all eternity. Every inch of the city is filled with those gray birds.
But not today.
As the farmer’s markets get set up the peddlers mumble to themselves about the surprising lack of avian companionship. The twilight commuters look up at the bare windowsills and try to figure out what has changed in the architecture of the city overnight. The layer of droppings on Winston Churchill’s head is at least a day old. This morning, as the city slowly rustles awake to the midi tones of cellphone alarms, the pigeons are gathering outside of the main train station.
They’re here because of me.
The birds hate me for what I have done.
For weeks I have only traveled by night, for weeks I have been avoiding the inevitable, for weeks I had hoped they would simply forget. But they didn’t and I know they won’t. The birds will not let me live freely until I pay for what I have done.
I set out this morning to bring the feud to rest, but as I emerge out of the subway and see what awaits me beyond the Plexiglas windows I get second thoughts. The park outside the automatic doors of the train station has been swallowed up in feathers. From the sea of gray, hateful beads of crimson stare at me. They’re waiting.
There’s two bags filled with Bohemia Bakery croissants in my hands. I can’t control the shaking. I can’t deny the inevitable. As the loudspeakers squawk out announcements of delays in a dozen muffled languages I can’t help but to think about how I got here.
There has to be a better word for it than break-up. We were engaged for the better part of a year, sharing a bed for five, dating for seven. A break-up sounds like a cracked plate, a minor inconvenience, something that you shrug off and carry on with your life. What happened between Julia and me was a multi-ton hydrogen bomb.
She said I never introduce her to work friends. So I did. I introduced her to the IT guy who I would occasionally grab beers with after work. She got to know him more intimately than I ever did. Much more intimately.
Suddenly, the person who was my one constant over the past seven years was telling me we could still be friends. Suddenly, the comfortable pad in the center that was affordable from two paychecks was replaced by a five person flat share in the housing projects. Suddenly, I couldn’t show my face in the office anymore.
He set up the remote-work software on my laptop. It took fifteen minutes but that moment dragged on for eternity. He mumbled an apology. My hand tightened into a fist, the uncapped pen on my desk gleamed with sharpness but I remained impotent. He regularly went to the gym. I didn’t.
When he finished the set-up he offered me his hand and without thinking I shook it. I even mumbled a “Thank you.”
I wanted to rip off my tongue and throw it out for the birds to devour.
Working from home was impossible. Not only was I in the midst of a personal cataclysm, but my four roommates had social lives so loud and amorous that they seeped through the paper-thin walls every second of the day. Whenever they brought someone home there was no escape from the echoes of lovemaking. I knew that back in my old apartment, in that cozy flat in the center, Julia was screaming the IT guy’s name. I had been with her for long enough to be able to imagine it all so vividly.
I needed to get out of that house.
‘Bohemia Bakery croissants, that’s a good treat right there, brother.’ The voice, followed by a familiar smell of distillates and festering bandages, drags me back into the present moment. Outside, the congregation of pigeons is slowly growing. In front of me, a Prague train station vagrant. ‘Got a lot of those croissants there, brother. Mind helping a hungry fella out?’
He looks like he’s been through a war-zone, his tattered rags the uniform of an army that loses in perpetuity. Beyond the Plexiglas the pigeons stare. I give the homeless man one of the croissants. I do this partially out of human kindness, but mainly in hopes that the pigeons see that I am not a monster, that the pigeons take pity on me.
The sea of beady eyes doesn’t flinch. They don’t care.
‘God bless, brother, God bless,’ the vagrant says as he starts to walk away. He stops. After considering the crowd of pigeons he turns back to me. ‘A lot of pigeons, eh? God bless, brother.’
He sets off towards the doors and I know I should follow him. I know it’s time for me to pay the price for my sins. I know there is no other way to get rid of the birds. But my legs are frozen.
When the homeless man is a couple of steps away from me a dark thought enters my mind. Maybe I can trick the pigeons into taking their revenge on someone else. They’re pigeons, how smart can they be? I open my mouth to yell out to him –
I want to give him another croissant. I want to suggest he take both the bags of offerings. I want to make him the target of the avian hatred.
But before I can vocalize my offer the plan falls apart.
The vagrant walks past the automatic doors into the park outside. The pigeons pay him no mind; he is completely invisible to them. They’re here for me and they’re getting impatient.
As the automatic doors grind to a close three pigeons fly into the station. I reach into my Bohemia Bakery bag and start turning croissants into crumbs between my fingers. The birds are getting restless.
Walking into the Bohemia Bakery on Michalská Street and setting up my laptop for a day of excel scrolling was a completely arbitrary decision. There’s hundreds of corporate owned coffee shops in Prague that have stable wi-fi and inoffensive Spotify playlists for ambience. I ended up there completely by accident. Yet as soon as I got settled I knew I wouldn’t be leaving any time soon.
Bohemia Bakery had all the makings of a coffee shop office. The refreshments were cheap enough to be drunk without a second thought, the neighborhood was safe enough to quell any fears about my laptop being stolen and the majority of the customers were locals. I have no qualms with tourists or immigrants, but American clientele does have a tendency to turn their private conversations into public three act plays. The chatter in the coffee shop was limited to complaint-filled grumbles, as is Czech custom.
The good work environment that Bohemia Bakery provided, however, was completely irrelevant to why I kept on coming there day after day. From the moment I saw her my visits to Bohemia Bakery ceased to be work related. I kept on coming back for Bára.
I was in a dark place. Every other morning I woke up to messages that I had sent to Julia in the middle of the night and forgotten about.
“I’m scared I’ll forget the smell of you.”
“You’re a scab I can’t stop picking.”
“Remember when we made love in the mountains?”
The response was always the same:
“Jesus, Mark, stop sending me these weird messages.”
The texts were desperate attempts to change her mind about moving on. Somewhere, in the depths of my soul, I was still sixteen and believed that one poetic message could turn back the clock on years of a stagnant relationship. I was sick with heartbreak, there was no one out who could make me happy like Julia did. The moment I saw Bára I knew that was a lie.
She made the question “Cash or card?” sound like a line of sensuous poetry pried from the throats of love-struck bards. When she prepared orders she didn’t move like a twenty-year-old barista, she floated behind her counter like a goddess examining the offerings that were being burnt in her temple. That unflattering gray and gold uniform that Bohemia Bakery would force on their employees to wear looked downright erotic on her. God forbid when the milquetoast music the coffee shop had turned to something with an actual beat. If there weren’t any customers Bára would quietly dance.
I tried not to stare. I wasn’t very good at that.
She didn’t mind. The moment when she winked at me I knew I was in love.
I stayed in the coffee shop for much longer than my job demanded. When I was around her all thoughts of Julia seemed absurd. Bára kept on smiling and winking and occasionally she would stick out her pierced tongue at me. After a week of nervously sneaking peeks at the coffee shop Venus I asked her out. After her shift was over we went to sit down in a nearby park.
There are so many parts of that night that have made themselves permanent in my memory; the way her hand slipped into mine before we even reached the park, the smell of cherry blossom and bubble gum that stemmed from her neck, the way her piercing clinked against my nervous teeth, the way she looked up at me when we made love. But none of the memories are as permanent in my head as the words she said when she threw out crumbs of stale croissants to the pigeons that gathered around us in the park.
“Ever looked a pigeon in the eyes? They’re angry creatures. And they talk. Always better to stay on their good side.”
Even as those tiny beaks pick at the droplets of dough scattered through the dirty tiles of the train station the pigeons keep their beady eyes locked on me.
There are more than a few of them now. The out-of-towners who come to Prague for work from the countryside are keeping the automatic doors opened wide. For each person that leaves the train station a pigeon sneaks its way in. The people might be leaving for different jobs but the aim of the birds is singular. Their aim is revenge.
An Uber Eats driver waiting for his next order plays a beautiful melody on one of the pianos that the city council has strewn across the city. He stops as I walk by him. The procession of pigeons behind me is impossible to ignore.
People keep on looking at me. I’m sweating. I know what’s coming. I know that there’s only so long that the pigeons are willing to wait for justice. I know how this all ends.
But still, there’s a part of me that wants to ignore the reality of my situation. Out of habit I take out my phone and text Julia.
“There’s a group of pigeons chasing me through the train station. They mean me harm. Help!”
Her living situation could have been better. Bára shared her two bedroom flat with three other girls from her hometown. On most nights the only thing that kept our lovemaking sessions out of Bára’s roommate’s eye-line was the sheet we draped from the bookshelf.
She moved out from the countryside with her three bestest friend to go live the crazy, cosmopolitan life out in the capital. I don’t think Bára’s roommate felt very cosmopolitan on the nights I stayed over.
There were also the pigeons. The mattress that Bára slept on was propped up against the window to the balcony and every morning I would wake up to the cooing of sky-rats. They usually managed to catch me about fifteen minutes before my alarm clock went off, and they were a gentler welcome to the waking world than the blaring of midi tones off my phone, but the constant cooing definitely made the Sunday morning cuddles less romantic.
Pigeons and roomates aside, the first couple months of our relationship went smoothly. All thoughts of Julia floated away. I felt no need to send her weird texts or obsess over whether she was still thinking about me. I was just enjoying my Bohemian Bakery beauty.
An old classmate of Bára’s came to visit. She knew all about me, Bára had spent the past couple of weeks preparing this girl to meet her “Super cool boyfriend” and whilst meeting a person who knew more about me than I knew about them would have intimidated me back when I was dating Julia, I didn’t mind by then. I had grown into my role. I didn’t know what made me cool or even what made Bára like me so much, but after months of living in my new, lucky reality I stopped questioning it.
Bára stole a couple of bottles of wine from the bakery and invited me over to get drunk with the rest of the apartment. I had the most minor of moral qualms about Bára’s theft, but after a couple of glasses my dislike of stealing became a purely hypothetical topic rather than an actual source of bother. I listened to the four girls drunkenly tell stories from the countryside.
‘Holy shit,’ Bára’s visiting friend said after the fourth bottle of wine had been drained, ‘We’re the only ones from our graduating class who don’t have any kids yet.’
I laughed. Hard. I was etching towards my early thirties and the thought of producing offspring seemed like something that wouldn’t happen for a long, long time. The idea that somewhere out in the countryside people were getting married at twenty seemed absurd to me.
As I laughed Bára kept her glass pressed to her lips. She drained it, poured another and topped me off in the process. We drank more. The other roommates went out clubbing. I was left alone with Bára and her visiting friend. We drank more. The three of us got drunk enough to lay down on the mattress.
One moment I was splashing water on my face trying to sober up and the next I tasted a kiss drenched in menthol cigarettes and red wine. The tongue that was caressing mine felt different. There was no piercing.
I opened up my eyes in terror realizing that I was not kissing my girlfriend. Bára’s friend looked up at me sheepishly. A familiar hand ran down my back.
‘It’s okay honey, it’s not like we’re married yet, we can share.’
I woke up with a horrible hangover the next day, it felt like my eyes were about to pop out of my skull and take everything I had ever eaten in the past 24 hours along with them, but the two naked bodies next to me assured me that my pain was temporary.
Overall, my life was good. With the help of the gentle cooing from the balcony I went back to sleep.
Then things changed.
We were sitting on the tram riding out to the farmer’s market to grab something to eat. There was a lull in the conversation, the type of lull where you throw out a random observation or a Facebook article headline in hopes of having something to talk about. She mentioned it as if it was the most casual thing in the world, as if it wasn’t a matter of any importance at all.
‘Missed my period three days ago.’
I think the lady at the ticket office is calling animal control. There’s a good thirty pigeons behind me now.
I have been mobbed by them before. Back in the early days, before I knew they were after me, they’d chase me while I was going out for groceries, or out drinking. There would always be a confused driver or a subway to help me escape. I have never tried to face the pigeons.
I start making my way towards the doors. This charade has been going on for long enough. I try to trick myself into believing that the pigeons will go easy on me, that they won’t really hurt me.
Yet as I walk towards the automatic doors one of the birds jumps up and pecks at my jeans.
Those beaks are sharp. Sharp enough to give me second thoughts. Sharp enough to make me think that maybe the solution to my qualm with the pigeons is to pack up and move.
I try to think of a country without pigeons, I can’t, but I presume there is one. There has to be one.
Deciding to move my life instead of paying for what I’ve done, I start making my way down into the subway. They follow.
But that’s fine. I convince myself that’s fine. As soon as the subway is about to arrive I can just break into a sprint and hop on. No way all thirty of them can follow me. Worst case scenario I’ll be locked up in a metal tube with two or three angry pigeons. I could take those on if needed.
I have killed pigeons before. Well, theoretically at least.
We didn’t talk about it. Well, we did, but not really.
‘Missed my period three days ago.’
‘Oh shit.’
‘Oh, don’t worry.’
‘You sure?’
‘Yeah.’
Then we moved on to talking about something else. For the whole day there was no discussion of Bára’s potential pregnancy, but from the moment that she mentioned it a cold sweat broke over me. Somewhere in the back of my head I started to imagine her as a lifelong partner.
I didn’t like what I saw.
What I once thought of as a face of perfection was now just a disparate collection of sharp facial features with crooked teeth. Her voice, her laugh, it all droned in my ears in a horrible, annoying way.
I tried to remind myself not to be shallow, not to judge the woman who I had been dating for nearly half a year based on her looks. That made the situation significantly worse.
As we were walking around the farmer’s market Bára started eating a sandwich. I knew that she didn’t buy it. I knew that she didn’t bring one. I knew she stole it.
Bára liked to steal shit. I didn’t mind her swiping stuff from the bakery, didn’t have empathy to spare for corporate owned franchises, but Bára stealing stuff from old folks got under my skin.
‘Hey, where did you get that sandwich?’
‘Found it on the floor. Ha-ha!’
She gave me a smile and a wink. I started to miss Julia again.
By the time we got back home the feverish dislike that I was starting to develop for Bára had turned physical. My head throbbed with some horrible strain of the flu that had crept into my system. I considered going home, but Bára assured me that the wave of fatigue I was feeling was just sleep deprivation. All I needed to do was take a nap and I’d be right as rain. I was too tired to argue.
By late afternoon I was fading in and out of consciousness on Bára’s mattress as she piled more and more blankets on top of me.
‘Ah, c’mon, just sweat it out babe. Quit complaining, you’re a real man, aren’t you?’
Her voice cut through my migraine like the stolen cutlery she had in her kitchen. What made the sickness induced delirium so much worse were the pigeons on the balcony. They just kept on cooing. Even as I drifted off into frenzied fever dreams I could sense their dirty, feathered bodies rustling behind the paper-thin walls.
‘What if I actually am pregnant?’ I heard a voice ask out of the darkness. I was far too deep in the sweaty, lethargic limbo to identify the source but through context clues I figured out who was asking. I pretended to be asleep.
‘What if I actually am pregnant?’ Bára asked, again, this time prodding me with her frigid foot.
I let loose a torrent of mucus filled coughs, hoping to dissuade her from trying to talk to me. It didn’t work. Her cold toes ran across my burning abdomen.
‘Mark, what if I actually am pregnant?’ She asked, sweetly.
‘Can we talk about this tomorrow?’ I groaned.
‘Sure,’ she hissed with the intensity of a silenced pistol.
Bára’s roommate was snoring, the pigeons outside were cooing and just as I started to get used to the jarring soundscape of the bedroom Bára started to sob next to me.
I pretended to be asleep, and eventually, I was.
I make my way down the stairs to the subway platform with dreams of escape glowing in my heart.
I could grow a shitty beard and live in some cabin in the woods, or lounge around on some exotic beach, or I could be freezing my ass of in the arctic. The only important thing is getting on that subway and riding off to somewhere where there are no flying rats that demand vengeance.
The screeching of metal. Below me, the subway has just arrived. I hold on tight to the railing and start jumping down the stairs two at a time. I’m praying that the doors of the train will stay open long enough for me to make my escape.
Some of the birds stop hopping down the stairs and ascend into flight. The feathers of the pigeons fit right into the metallic gray of the subway station in the worst possible way.
There’s a new mom who doesn’t quite know how to handle a stroller stalling the doors to the subway. I still have a chance, I can still run in and make my escape – but just as I am descending the last three steps towards the platform one of those beady eyed vermin dives straight at me.
I lift my hand off the rail to shoo the pigeon away, shifting my balance. Suddenly, I’m falling. Suddenly, my head crashes against the concrete. Suddenly, I’m back on my feet, running towards the subway, screaming past the burning pain that has materialized in my ankle.
I slam into the closed doors. Everyone on the train stares at me and my bizarre pursuers in horror. Except for the baby. The baby points and giggles and laughs from its carriage as the train slowly rumbles into life and disappears in the dark tunnel.
The next train is coming in eight minutes.
I’m at the edge of the platform and there’s a good fifty pigeons staring at me.
‘Jesus, you’re still here?’
I woke up to the sound of Bára’s roommate angrily stomping around the bedroom. My fever was gone, but somehow it had managed to carry me into the late afternoon.
‘It smells like a frigging sex dungeon here dude. Least you could have done was pop open a window.’ She towers over me, eyes filled with disgust, as she cracks open the balcony windows. ‘And you should definitely talk to Bára. It’s none of my business but when she left to work today she was… Gross! Eeew!’
‘Gross?’ I sat up on the mattress. The roommate didn’t look at me, she just kept on staring out of the window. ‘Bára was… gross?’
‘No, you idiot. Look outside. No wonder those birds have been waking us up every morning. There’s a goddamn nest on the balcony.’
As soon as the moist covers slid off me the dizzying stench of sweat overpowered any amount of fresh air coming in from the window. Bára’s roommate jumped back in disgust and with a barrage of comments about how disgusting I am, she left.
Among the discarded plastic bags and cigarette butts there was a roughly picked home of straw. In it there were three little eggs that looked like dirty oversized tic-tacs.
Bára’s roommate pressed a broom into my hand.
‘Go.’
‘Go where?’
‘Go push that shit off the roof. They carry diseases, you know.’
‘Why me?’
‘Why you? Because you’re a frigging man, act like it.’
Memories of the IT guy setting up my remote working software crawled through the back of my head. I grabbed the broom and went out to the balcony, intent on proving my masculinity. All I had to do was just push the nest off into the street below and Bára’s roommate would get off my back.
Yet as soon as I got outside on the terrace I realized I wasn’t alone. On the neighbor’s windowsill, just a meter or two away from the nest, was a pigeon. The bird’s feathers were fuller than any other pigeon that I had ever seen, it’s eyes shone in a blood red, hateful glow. This was no ordinary pigeon.
And it was watching me.
I moved up the broom to the edge of the nest, but my arms froze. Something about that animal’s blank expression was telling me that I was about to take a step into a world from which I could not return, something was telling me that I was about to make the biggest mistake of my life. An ancient, Hammurabi-era truth loomed behind those red orbs.
An eye for an eye,
A tooth for a tooth,
You harm my young and we will harm yours,
The front door opened. I could hear Bára’s tired voice.
‘Is my man still here?’
‘Yeah, your middle management looking dude is out on the balcony, trying to work up the balls to get rid of a pigeon nest,’ I heard her roommate say.
The passive aggressive insult didn’t even register with me. I was lost in the showdown with the pigeon. Those eyes meant business, and that beak looked sharp enough to break the skin.
I could pick up the nest and take it outside, I could put it in a tree, I could google how to deal with this situation, there were so many things that I could have done but, before I knew it, there was a pair of cold hands wrapped around the broom. Bára pressed her body against mine and before I knew it the broom did its job.
The pigeon’s eyes went wide. Like a paper airplane covered in gravel the nest tumbled down into the street with the gentlest crunch. Within seconds it went from being a bastion of blossoming life to being some leash-less dog’s dinner.
‘Come inside. We need to talk.’ No kiss. She was angry.
The pigeon’s eyes were still locked on the crushed eggs running over the pavement. A wave of self-loathing washed through my chest. It was time for an apology.
I cleared my throat. The pigeon’s eyes quickly darted back to me. That wide-eyed expression of shock quickly faded away. The balls of red that dwelled in the creature’s skull turned into focused, hate-filled dots.
“Look, I’m so-“
The bird launched at my tongue.
My avian predicament catches the attention of a group of Chinese tourists gathered on the other side of the platform. For a split second the shuttering of cameras rises above the cooing, but as the pigeons get closer the clicks and flashes became imperceptible static.
The pigeons have me cornered. I’ve started throwing the croissants from Bohemia Bakery at them wholesale, but for every pigeon I distract there are five more that are thirsty for blood. They’re thirsty for revenge.
The birds hate me for what I have done.
With my back up against a map of the Prague subway system I look up at the ‘Next arrival’ board. The red numbers glare: five minutes thirty-six seconds and counting.
I fire off another text to Julia:
The birds will punish me for what I have done.”
I look out into the sea of gray and see a familiar set of red dots. The bird who’s children I killed leads the march.
I don’t have five minutes. I don’t even have thirty-six seconds.
Wings flutter, the birds take flight. With closed eyes I pray that my punishment will be swift.
It isn’t.
My skin burns with blood as the razor beaks bite into me. My hands barely cover my eyes as the pigeons try to claw at my face. They drag at my hair, they tear at my clothes, they peck at my jeans.
My agony reaches incomprehensible heights. With each bite of flesh they take, however, a sliver of my consciousness fades away. Before the pigeons get to the worst part of their punishment, I black out.
We sat in her kitchen; me, pressing a packet of frozen peas to my tongue and her, nursing a cigarette lit off the stove. Smoke drifted from her nostrils as if she was a passive-aggressive dragon.
‘Thanku, don’t kno wha got into that brd.’ My numb, bleeding tongue didn’t get my point across very eloquently but Bára understood what I meant. Those hazel eyes burrowed into me, watching every twitch in my face.
‘Not pregnant,’ she finally said, ‘Had my period this morning.’
‘Tha’s grea!’ I yelled, sending a trickle of iron into my mouth. I grinned. That was the first good news I heard all day.
She wasn’t smiling.
‘What if I actually was pregnant?’ She took a drag and looked away from me. Whatever nuanced reaction my face made wasn’t to her liking.
The conversation dragged on into eternity and at each turn I said the wrong things. Even if my mouth wasn’t slowly filling up with blood, even if my tongue didn’t have a beak-imposed lisp, I don’t think I could have salvaged that relationship.
I didn’t notice the bird at first, but as soon as I became aware of him it was impossible to fully focus on what Bára was saying. Right behind her, with my blood on his beak, was my red-eyed enemy. Soon friends joined him. The longer Bara and me spoke, the bigger our audience got.
Those beady eyes burnt with hatred.
I left the apartment, newly single, with blood in my mouth and a toothbrush in my pocket, and started making my way towards the bus station. I was about to fire off a text to Julia to let her know I was still in love with her but before I could unblock her number-
Peck!
Something small and sharp snapped at my scalp. The flock of enraged pigeons descended me from the windowsills of the Soviet-era housing projects. If there wasn’t a subway station nearby I probably would have lost an eye.
At first I had hoped that the assault from the pigeons was simply a rare occurrence of an angry parent, yet they followed me everywhere. For months I lived my life in fear, desperately hoping that they would tire of chasing me, but it became clear that the birds would not leave me alone.
They wouldn’t leave me alone until I paid the price.
I keep staring out of the window. This makes the doctor visibly uncomfortable. He tells me about how my body was rushed into surgery, about how there is a good chance I have contracted a fair amount of diseases, about all of the permanent damage that the pigeons had inflicted on me, but I just keep looking out of the window.
I had an educated guess on the extent of the pigeon’s revenge.
An eye for an eye,
A tooth for a tooth,
You harm my young and I will harm yours,
The doctor eventually gives up on trying to elicit a reaction out of me and leaves me alone in my room. And I am alone. The windowsill is empty. The pigeons have had their revenge.
I breathe out a sigh of pained relief.
Ding!
I get a text from someone who makes my heart flutter.
I look back at the conversation.
ME – 5:16AM: “There’s a group of pigeons chasing me through the main train station. They mean me harm. Help!”
ME – 5:24AM: “The Birds will punish me for what I have done.”
JULIA – 7:02PM: “What???”
In the stillness of the hospital room I type out my reply, my explanation. As soon as my scarred thumbs punch the words into reality a weight is lifted off my chest. A chapter of my life has ended. I am free now.
Ding!
ME – 7:02PM: “It’s okay. The pigeons have punished me for my misdeeds. I am scarred and will never be able to have children, but I am a free man. I love you.”
JULIA – 7:03PM: “Jesus Mark, stop sending me these messages.”
submitted by MikeJesus to libraryofshadows [link] [comments]


2020.09.22 18:22 tylersprice 'events' empty always. Cam plus subscribed cameras.

I've been paying for it for awhile. I usually rarely check my cameras but last night my vehicle was vandalised and my wallet stolen out of it. Wyze' cloud services captured exactly none of it. Thank god I have sdcards with continuous record enabled. I am unable to use the wyze app to view any of my sdcard footage so I am now going through folders nested as DATE>HOUR>MIN.mp4 in 1 minute clips manually.
All in all a really stellar service you're offering here wyze. Consider my subscriptions cancelled, eufy here I come.
submitted by tylersprice to wyzecam [link] [comments]


2020.09.22 13:59 sugardatingsites Where Did The Internet Kinky Life Go?

Where Did The Internet Kinky Life Go?
BDSM dating sites - before MSN, Google, and Yahoo - Internet kinky life was simple. There were some discussion lists, the Usenet groups, and the occasional chatroom. Life was simple and easy and a kinky pal was easily found. These days, most people are not so sure. In fact, most have lost their trusted resources and footholds. The question is: now what?

https://preview.redd.it/n9c4moc6voo51.jpg?width=1024&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=1f6f42e8050b9d35b0d7753bf79e82552ac379de
It all started out with Yahoo rounding up the majority of discussion groups and lists, turning them into Yahoo groups. First, Yahoo waded out the vast majority of adult-oriented groups (they had picked up first, for example through acquiring HotLists) without notice. Whatever groups managed to survive have largely deteriorated to spam-nests, especially since the average-not-so-clever spammer started to buy email addresses from harvesters who do little more than providing them with a ton of dead and useless email addresses, including those, meant to be the group moderator addresses provided by Yahoo and Smartgroups.
The next major setback for the adult internet life was MSN. After quite happily allowing everyone to set up an MSN-group, regardless of its nature, MSN - giving in to pressure groups from the USA - suddenly decided that was not a good plan. The United States Bible Belt seems to rule the world and one written complaint from Jane Doe out of Nowhere City, Utah seems to become the standard for what is proper and decent and what is not.
MSN came up with a "solution", the major flop "WorldGroups" that doesn't take off, mainly because it is a poor set up in the first place and secondly people see no reason to fill up Bill Gates' pockets further than they already are. Now MSN has - per Oct. 1rst, 2006 - completely abandoned the chat facility for any MSN group and that is the end of the last of the kinky Mohegans.
So, where do they do?
It is simply absurd to think that approximately one-third of the worlds' population that - according to most polls - is into some form of kinky sex, will let itself regulate by overly puristic companies, providers, action groups, or individuals. Neither will the 8 billion dollar adult Internet industry give up. So yes, like water this enormous stream of potential customers and voters will find its way. If it can't go through the mountain, it will find its way around it.
Blogging, podcasting, and vodcasting certainly is one way to do that. An increasing number of people run their own "newspaper", radio station, or even daily television show on the Internet and these things are extremely popular. A good number among them is adult-oriented.
But these are only minor efforts, compared to profile/dating/exposure sites, such as the 1 million people big MySpace networking site, its competitor Hyves, and a wide variety of regional similar facilities that offer the same, but in the local language. These are places where much of the kinky life really happening. Not to mention their entirely "adult" oriented equivalents.
And another good example is forum sites, most of them being new initiatives that offer both an informational site with lots and lots of pointers and information and a community, that allows for posting, finding friends and lovers, and much more.
So, it is a simple matter of redirecting your adult searching to other places. Where, with a bit of effort, you'll find entire new crowds. With: more fun, more personal control, and less "big brother watching".
submitted by sugardatingsites to BDSMdatingsites [link] [comments]


2020.09.22 12:05 itcrowd21 How to use yield instead if return?

I'm writing a WhatsApp chat bot using Flask adapting the tutorial here and the following code snippet works when I'm testing locally and using print (the 'bot' successfully returns some results from Airtable in response to a WhatsApp message):
def pretty(d): return f'''Date: {d['Date']!r} Title: {d['Title']!r} Description: {d['Description']!r} ''' pages = airtable.get_iter(maxRecords=3, formula="Date >= NOW()", sort=["Date"], fields=('Date', 'Title', 'Description')) for page in pages: for record in page: if 'fields' not in record: continue fields = record['fields'] print(pretty(fields)) 
The above is good and works when I run it locally. I got some help from this subreddit for the def pretty(d) function - major props to my helper.
However, I run into problems when I deploy to Heroku - the return here causes the loop to break and I only get one result (I want 3 results or n results as requested):
 if 'next' in incoming_msg: def pretty(d): return f'''Date: {d['Date']!r} Title: {d['Title']!r} Description: {d['Description']!r} ''' pages = airtable.get_iter(maxRecords=3, formula="Date >= NOW()", sort=["Date"], fields=('Date', 'Title', 'Description')) for page in pages: for record in page: if 'fields' not in record: continue fields = record['fields'] return(pretty(fields)) 
So I try using yield instead of return:
 if 'next' in incoming_msg: def pretty(d): return f'''Date: {d['Date']!r} Title: {d['Title']!r} Description: {d['Description']!r} ''' pages = airtable.get_iter(maxRecords=3, formula="Date >= NOW()", sort=["Date"], fields=('Date', 'Title', 'Description')) for page in pages: for record in page: if 'fields' not in record: continue fields = record['fields'] yield(pretty(fields)) 
But I get this error:
TypeError: The view function did not return a valid response. The return type must be a string, dict, tuple, Response instance, or WSGI callable, but it was a generator. 
Perhaps I have the syntax wrong but the following just crashes and burns:
 for page in pages: for record in page: if 'fields' not in record: continue fields = record['fields'] yield (pretty(fields)) 
When I call the above code with a webhook, it fails in a major way:
 500 Internal Server Error 

Internal Server Error

The server encountered an internal error and was unable to complete your request. Either the server is overloaded or there is an error in the application.
So, how do I return the results of a nested loop using yield instead of return in this case?
Many thanks in advance.
submitted by itcrowd21 to learnpython [link] [comments]


2020.09.21 12:51 misscollegegirl Should I end the friendship? Or should I keep trying? How do i make new friends?

I (21F) used to have two very close friends (21F and 20M) at one point I considered them family and my nest friends for life. I don't know at what point this happened or how but eventually the friendship began to turn toxic. My male friend would make fun of me in front of her and his other friends. (Regarding my looks or comments etc). Interestingly enough whenever we hung out one on one he was actually nice to me but when in a group he would change and I never understood why? He would often tell me he'd be mean because he saw me as a sister.
My two friends began dating and at the time I had a lot of issues readjusting to the new dynamic of the group. A lot of the times I really felt like the odd one out. And he'd tell me it was all in my head, and that I shouldn't feel bad. But I did. I felt like a third wheel.
As time passed, we began to hang out even less. He got a new job and we just wouldn't talk much. I tried to hang out with the girl during my class break but sometimes I would not meet up with her because I had to study. And overall it just felt like we were growing apart.
I think our friendship was very difficult for her because she'd often witness her bf fight with me so that put her in an awkward position. I remember at the time I'd feel sad we would not really have time to hang out as much as we used to when they weren't dating. I don't blame her for getting tired of the situation, I'm sure we all did.
Well I guess I assume she was tired but I am not sure.
I spent months and months crying because I believed our friendship has ended. I felt alone, I had just lost people I thought would be part of my life forever.
But then every now and then she would text me or he would call me. It would always give me hope that maybe we were still friends. That maybe our friendship could be what it once was.
When I'd text her, she would take (and still does) weeks to a month or two to reply. He calls me every now and then and mentions that he's very busy with his new job and that they're doing great as a couple and that we should all hang out one of these days.
Whenever he would call me, I would cry after the call ended as it reminded me of the days when we were actually close. Whenever she'd text and I replied a minute afterward only to have to wait days and weeks to reply, I would cry because it just felt like I was getting false hope. A few months ago I concluded that things were never going to be the way they used to be and that i should move on because I could not bear the pain anymore. Although I no longer cry, I still feel hurt whenever I get a text back or an abrupt 5 minute call.
I just keep asking myself:
Maybe they are that busy and still want to be my friend?
In my mind one day (soon) she was going to completely stop replying and rather than a dumb argument or a sad ending we would simply stop communication. (And so would he)
Now, I don't know, after the last call with him, we talked a little bit about our academic life. He was planning on setting me up on a date with one of my friends and I said I wasn't single. He asked me, "how come you didn't tell me or her?" And i said, "I mentioned it to her but since she takes a while to reply I'm not sure if she's read my text" and he said, "Oh yeah she does that to me too, she takes her time to reply"
Now I understand some people genuinely suck at replying but the reason it hurts is because she used to reply on a regular basis. Also, I don't think she takes as many weeks to reply to me than she does with others especially her bf. (Not that I blame her, I understand relationships are usually prioritized over friendships).
That is why I believed we would just stop talking rather than reply once every couple of weeks. I am mostly venting so im sorry I am rambling.
I guess my question is, Am I over assuming that they do not want to be my friend? Meaning, Should I try to fix the friendship? How do I fix it?
Or
How do I end the friendship on good terms? Because I want to stop feeling pain.
submitted by misscollegegirl to relationship_advice [link] [comments]


2020.09.21 05:46 btlkhs [OWL WATCH] Waiting for "IOTA TIME" 21-24;

Disclaimer: This is my editing for the last 1-2 weeks, so there could be some misunderstandings and exaggerations, especially because many of these convos are from 'spec channel', so please don't take it 100% fact-wise. I share this summary to help survive this patient game and spread good spirits of IOTA.

Charlie [IF]어제 오전 8:26
I think chrysalis will bring a nice pamp
people will see how well the protocol works through a nice new wallet
we'll have a suite of libraries for people to build with
new exchanges
maybe not to the same extent as coordicide but it'll increase our market rank significantly, imo
📷
Mark Schmidt [IF]어제 오전 8:49
As soon as the majority of tokens are bought for actual use, we can speak of proper valuations. Until then we will have speculation based valuation.​
​----------------------------------------------------------------------
📷
HusQy
In IOTA you don't even have sheets. You just talk to each other and whenever you see a conflict you ask a few other people in the room if they saw the conflict in the same order as you.
📷
Jelle Millenaar [IF]어제 오후 8:10
IOTA Identity does the same using standards. That's always the difference between IOTA and others**. We are not a specific DLT that does one thing, we are a platform that can do it all (Well most of it).**
📷
Hans Moog [IF]어제 오전 5:53
as I said earlier I think its an interesting idea to increase trust in payments that need fast confirmations
but if you don't have finality then it definitely doesn't work
I just say that it doesn't work without a concept of finality
and that's usually the hard part
in distributed consensus
📷
Hans Moog [IF]어제 오전 6:09
and if you have a permissioned group of coordinators then you can just run hashgraph
and an open and permissionless system is hard because you usually never reach true finality
but only probabilistic finality
📷
Hans Moog [IF]어제 오전 6:46
I am pretty sure that any consensus always involves voting and the quest for the best consensus is the quest for the best voting scheme but maybe I am wrong
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toothless어제 오후 7:18
The current goshimmer peering protocol mixes peer ID with salt to determine an ordering to select 8 peers for 2 hours. Anyway. Maybe you are not familiar with that system.
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Hans Moog [IF]어제 오후 7:18
I designed that system
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Hans Moog [IF]어제 오후 7:20
that's how multiverse works - every message is a statement by the issuing node which conflict it likes
and the subtangle with the most approvers wins
that works
but that's consensus
📷
Hans Moog [IF]어제 오후 7:23
finality requires consensus
consensus always requires voting
I just think that I have a pretty deep understanding of what is necessary for consensus.
I have researched this for years now
📷
Hans Moog [IF]어제 오후 8:01
the trilemma by definition only applies to blockchain
The trilemma is bullshit. The more decentralized the network is the more secure is it because you have more redundancy and its harder to corrupt a sufficient amount of validators. And since the answer to scalability is sharding, more validators also means easier sharding and therefore better scalability.

📷
Wilfried Pimenta de Miranda • 3rd+
Distributed Ledger Technologies (#DLT) / #blockchain and #AI are recognized by the EU commission as "foundational technologies that will underpin the future of digital transformation across the whole economy".
​Excited to follow the 400-500M EUR European Investment Fund being set up aimed at boosting DLT & AI startups across Europe.

steven vanpeltout of network
math
23m
ah the parasite chain attack. like in any pow, pos system. for now coordinator prevents this in the current network. iota coordicide has manaFpc for fast finality to prevent this. we will see mana working in a few weeks,

📷
ricardosnow오늘 오후 8:36
Dom from 1 to 10 how much are you pumped for the Q3/Q4?
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dom오늘 오후 9:18
10 ofc
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Wynt오늘 오후 9:25
what's your favorite task then?
📷
dom오늘 오후 9:27
Organisation / strategy work
📷
Wynt오늘 오후 9:28
ah good good 📷 regarding the entire IF or more focussed on a specific project?
📷
dom오늘 오후 9:41
IF and some specific projects
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Yann오늘 오후 4:43
https://facemrook.github.io/hot-take-mana-specs
Buffy’s IOTA Facts
Hot take: Mana specs: I have questions
Mana is Coordicide’s main sybil protection mechanism, 15+ months in the making. The specs that were just released create more questions than answers.
📷
Billy Sanders [IF]오늘 오후 4:51
Does anyone know what specification they[buffy] are actually referring to? We haven't made any of the specifications public
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Navin Ramachandran [IF]오늘 오후 4:52
I presume it is this.
https://github.com/iotaledgegoshimmeblob/docs/mana/docs/001-mana_proposal.md
📷
Billy Sanders [IF]오늘 오후 4:53
Ah I see
Well one reason for the complications is we want a study on goshimmer which mana calculation method is better, method 1 or method 2
He raises a lot of good points that we have addressed internally
But the document above probably doesn't communicate
📷
Billy Sanders [IF]오늘 오후 5:12
We have specs for most of the protocol, and we hope to make them public in a few months
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Sissors오늘 오후 5:17
why a few months? You want to have them finalized before revealing them?
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Hans Moog [IF]오늘 오후 6:34
Writing specs that are concise enough to leave no open questions takes time and people are pretty busy + things are also still being optimized. While you implement and design data structures, you suddenly realize that some things can be solved in a much more efficient way than initially envisioned. We are for example thinking about increasing the number of other messages a message can reference as the tip selection has become orders of magnitude more efficient. This solves the last "problematic" attack vector of blowballs where an attacker tries to inflate the number of available tips. This change also massively decreases things like confirmation times. We are also getting rid of the nested value tangle and replace it with the "approval reset switch" that we discussed a few days ago so we only have 1 tangle in a single layer that contains everything. This will not only lead to a better perception of things like confirmation confidence as even data messages are contributing to the approval of value transfers but it also makes a lot of algorithms much simpler that would otherwise have to take the separation of the layers into account. If we would have tried to spec the state before these optimizations then this would have essentially been a lot of wasted time. The same goes for mana - while we implement the first version of it we expect a few interesting insights not only into how it behaves but how it can be optimized regarding its implementation. Once we feel confident that aspects are more or less final we will write concise specs but for now, the focus is on optimizations and learning from the real-world implementation.****(수정됨)
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toothless오늘 오후 6:38
Hans I reverse engineered your autopeering protocol. I would just like to say. It's beautiful.
It works well
Boot 500 connected nodes in minutes
At first, I did not like the UDP layer but now it makes total sense. Genius system
📷
Hans Moog [IF]오늘 오후 6:48
There are internal specs for pretty much everything and of course, you need them to implement stuff but internal specs and public specs are two different things as internal specs sometimes also name a few different "options" how to do things whereas public specs are usually very concise and leave very little room for discussions.****(수정됨)
📷
Hans Moog [IF]오늘 오후 6:50
It's just different scopes - just look at the little mana document that we have in goshimmer. Everybody who internally works on goshimmer knows that "access mana" controls the influence on rate control and your throughput in the network while "consensus mana" controls the influence in voting
📷
Hans Moog [IF]오늘 오후 6:53
It's two different aspects that are not necessarily related and the fact that we have 2 mana vectors totally confused cpt. WTF to a degree where he felt like he needs to write another article where he again tells everybody that he doesn't understand shit
Ideally, public specs wouldn't leave these kinds of questions open so people don't get confused

📷
dom오늘 오전 3:56
yeh
the highest priority right now is really Chrysalis and delivering that on the mainnet.
for the testnet October is what we're aiming for
with that, we can then already speak with exchanges about integrations etc.
📷
ThomasQv오늘 오전 3:59
Is there something else going on behind the scenes that we will bee seeing this year? Kind of feel it will be all hands on deck this year for chrysalis so not much other news will be expected
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dom오늘 오전 4:00
more product announcements by us / partners will also come
aye we'll get there. Let's not get distracted by the defi craze....
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ThomasQv오늘 오전 4:02
Haha no it's just a bit sad to see us getting pushed aside time after time by other projects. But hopefully, these new products and partners are able to push us back in the game
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dom오늘 오전 4:04
sure it sucks and can get you frustrated. But fundamentally nothing has changed about our value proposition, delivery and focus. So while the market is high on defi atm and every other coin is announcing their own form of DeFi, we can't lose focus like that and diverge from the roadmap we defined
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dom오늘 오전 4:07
one thing that has been proven is that you can really not acquire a sustainable ecosystem and adoption in this space. So it is much better to really stay focused to deliver on the largest and most important upgrade of the IOTA protocol yet, and then with that accelerate adoption and more use cases. Everyone is super excited about it (partners + team + community) and what it will enable for our future.
📷
ThomasQv오늘 오전 4:08
I think we can all agree that if everything goes as planned iota will be pretty big in the future
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dom오늘 오전 4:09
we'll get there
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ThomasQv오늘 오전 4:15
Can't argue that when dom and the rest of the IF joins these talks and talk about how everything is going well and what's to come the sentiment change at the second. It helps a lot on the community
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dom오늘 오전 4:15
if I answer that question I get hanged because of pre-announcing and unnecessarily hyping lol
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Dan S [IF]오늘 오전 4:25
It’s painful but I know it will be rewarding for all of us so 📷
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ThomasQv오늘 오전 4:36
Dan, are u waiting for chrysalis before u call tell us more?
📷
Dan S [IF]오늘 오전 4:36
100%
Blogchain at the ready
📷
Dan S [IF]오늘 오전 4:37
Seriously though, EDDSA can’t come soon enough
📷
Dan S [IF]오늘 오전 4:37****​
Y’all in spec will see it coming but nobody else will
I guess that’s a good thing 📷
📷
Dan S [IF]오늘 오전 4:39
All I’m promising is that we had some serious blockers in North America, and those are no longer here. Maybe one day over some discord chat/coffee/drink hour I’ll go over the whole story.
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Hapa오늘 오전 4:39
If iota does not hit $5 next month,
📷
Dan S [IF]오늘 오전 4:39
Next month damn that’s close
[luckily enough], I think by end of year is a real possibility
📷
Dan S [IF]오늘 오전 4:41
What I mean is that North America was really hard to get into
We got a serious legal approval by the Crypto Ratings Council
📷
Dan S [IF]오늘 오전 4:42
And we’ve gotten some other regulatory approvals - but the market here generally didn’t like us cause we weren’t willing to do all the pay to play stuff
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Hyperware오늘 오전 4:42
So glad that things are smoother now though
📷
Dan S [IF]오늘 오전 4:42
Yeh 100%
📷
Dan S [IF]오늘 오전 4:42
It just took like, a year to get a lay of the landscape and diagnose how to solve it
Blockers were first step
Phase 2 is next step
📷
Dan S [IF]오늘 오전 4:49
Yes this is required before though
[SCs and color coins are just soo slept on in terms of impact]
u/Hyperware
100%
📷
Charlie [IF]오늘 오후 9:31
Meanwhile, we are concentrating on things like Streams, Access, Identity to enable actual use cases in the real world
📷
Charlie [IF]오늘 오후 9:36
u/SWISH We will just have to grind our way back up the rankings. I think it’ll happen quite organically.
📷
Charlie [IF]오늘 오후 9:38
SCs will are super important yeah. But the use cases afforded through streams/identity/access will also build the ecosystem out
We do plan to expedite SC development
📷
simon오늘 오후 9:46
u/SWISH I think actually it's the opposite. Streams, Identity etc. are stuff that need to be standardized for the ecosystem to grow.
📷
Charlie [IF]오늘 오후 9:47
Yeah each of them will be a standardized protocol
​​
-----------------------------------------------------------
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David Sønstebø오늘 오전 3:52
u/shonuff We have been in dialog with some of the big titans of S Korea before, but it was too early for them and too early for IOTA's tech
However, there are contact points there. After Chrysalis v2 things will hopefully start rolling
📷
David Sønstebø오늘 오전 3:55
u/ThomasQv It's very hard to give broad estimates, but there's certainly a lot of European and American companies that are eagerly awaiting Chrysalis v2, but whether that happens before or after Christmas is hard to say. These cycles within companies are hard to predict
📷
David Sønstebø오늘 오전 3:58
Chrysalis v2 is definitely a catalyst, it will make listing of IOTA as basic as most other projects as well, not just for exchanges but for other fintech applications
It's great to see the consequences of fees and people starting to realize "Oh, it's actually a real problem"
​​📷
dom어제 오후 10:59
lol
u/ricardosnow lots happening behind the scenes. More product releases coming soon (Streams + Access)

📷
domToday at 4:47 PM
u/JacQ there are some very interesting applications, especially when combined with micropayments. Think about being able to lease machines at low interest rates and paying back per usage. That would be a pretty amazing and real world defi application.
📷
domToday at 4:50 PM
it is much more suitable for most of what ETH is being used for today, and will not have the same problems (fees + scalability). We're very excited to actually accelerate the development there and are staffing up the team.
📷
domToday at 4:58 PM
btw did you guys never think that it's actually amazing that we have an ecosystem which is contributing and developing outside of the IF?
📷
Navin Ramachandran [IF]Today at 4:58 PM
The research and engineering teams do the base research. Many teams may implement it
📷
Navin Ramachandran [IF]Today at 8:22 PM
Also "Integration of IOTA wallet into the cars’ hardware would be kind of a ‘hacking’ and not feasible for general replication."
**[8:22 PM]**
I presume they are talking about Trinity or a software wallet here
But there is no reason why we can't have a wallet on embedded hardware
​​📷
dom어제 오후 7:07
u/Gerrit the whole promise of cryptocurrencies are no counterparty risks, censorship resistance and permissionless protocols. I don't think a digital euro will be competition for that, I really think it will help accelerate adoption even further
📷
dom어제 오후 7:08
absolutely We already now have many companies building on IOTA, 1.5 will just really help them further develop new applications and will make them confident that we are on our path to be production ready

------------------------------------------------------------
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domToday at 5:09 PM
good times will come lol
​​📷
Mike Bennett
​International standards setting is kind of the opposite of surprises. We have some nice surprises from IOTA Foundation in the form of draft Coordicide specs but these are not ready to go into the formal standard until Engineering have gone through them.
​Today I gave the OMG an update on the current state of the IOTA Protocol. The (Research) raw specs are still in draft, I hope to have a more substantive draft for December but we can only submit formally once the IOTA2.0 specs are implemented on Mainnet, for March.
I hope to put out the blog post on standardization after this week's OMG meeting. So I can include updates on what we are doing this week.
​​📷
dom어제 오후 11:31
we will explain and clearly communicate all the changes + what to do obviously 📷
more importantly, the wallet will take care of most of the heavy lifting
so it should be pretty seamless
📷
Ryan G.어제 오후 10:41
**And why would the IF be hiring a software engineer with experience in the Automotive industry?**
Looks to me they need help working with some large automotive partners.
📷
David Sønstebø오늘 오전 5:30
If there's a real demand for DLT, IOTA won't [sink]
It's that simple
Those who deliver survive in the long run
Those who promise everyone to become millionaires overnight prosper in the short term
📷
David Sønstebø오늘 오전 5:31
If Coordicide isn't delivered in 2021 I will personally resign ^_^;
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knight오늘 오전 5:33​
u/David Sønstebø Delivered on mainnet?
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David Sønstebø오늘 오전 5:33
u/knight Yes, of course. Anything else would be an abject failure and I would abdicate my position​
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David Sønstebø오늘 오전 5:35
Marketcap, as you pointed out, is a whole another topic. Again, most are manipulated, IOTA's isn't. I can't predict the future, all I can give you is my own commitment. More than 95% of my wealth (which I have to pay a damn wealth tax on every year in fiat) is in IOTA.
📷
ThomasQv오늘 오전 5:36
Yeah.. whats the most exciting things about the near future are you able to tell us without breaking any NDA?
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David Sønstebø오늘 오전 5:37
u/ThomasQv I will let the news speak for itself
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Chris Mueller오늘 오전 5:40
do companies actually tell you about their plans with iota or is this something you don't even know of - or does it depend on the company?
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David Sønstebø오늘 오전 5:43
u/Chris Mueller A lot do, but more excitingly, most no longer do. I.E. IOTA is being adopted organically by major players. One of the biggest service providers in Germany just told us casually in a call last week that they had 'over 80 entities' inquiring about IOTA. This is what we've been fighting for. This was an off-the-cuff comment, but truly made me more content with my time and energy investment over the past 5 years than almost any other IOTA related news.
📷
David Sønstebø오늘 오전 5:44
I don't want IF to become the 'hub' that all entities go through, that would defeat IOTA's purpose. The fact that there's such a demand for IOTA in the industry, without us even being aware, is the epitome of success for me
📷
sexypotato오늘 오전 5:45
I think many of us underestimate the Trojan horse IOTA is using with a data protocol. With this.. the IOTA token has several X more chances of being adopted than all other coins out there
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David Sønstebø오늘 오전 5:46
u/Chris Mueller Germany is definitely 'more pronounced' so to speak. IIRC IOTA is the most searched crypto tech in all of Germany. However, this is echoing the 'trend' we see across other countries (including my own) that we have been very active in... Of course, I can't divulge details, but let's just say that the demand is hard to keep up with from an organization perspective
📷
Chris Mueller오늘 오전 5:48
u/David Sønstebø I see - are these companies who want to start from scratch or has the space matured to such a degree that you can build upon knowledge on their side?(수정됨)
📷
David Sønstebø오늘 오전 5:53
u/Chris Muelle****r I'd say 50/50. I know that isn't a particularly satisfying answer to your question, but... it's just reality. Virtually all relevant companies have dipped their toes into 'BLOCKCHAIN WILL CHANGE THE WORLD' by now, but the technical understanding is lacking across the board, and when it comes to differentiating "Tangle vs Blockchain", often you might as well ask people to differentiate between interpretations of Quantum Mechanics
📷
David Sønstebø오늘 오전 5:54
Just a quote on that
"Bitwise's study in 2019 claimed that 95% of volume on unregulated exchanges was fake. Chainalysis' new study follows a report by crypto index fund provider Bitwise Asset Management claiming that as much as 95% of volume on unregulated exchanges appears to be fake or non-economic in nature"
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David Sønstebø오늘 오전 6:09
I'll ensure that a Board AMA happens by end of Oct ; )
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Octo오늘 오전 6:12
David, do you firmly believe in another bull market?
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David Sønstebø오늘 오전 6:13
u/Octo As you know, I'm probably the most prominent anti-spec people in crypto's history, so I am not sure if I'm the right guy to ask. All that being said: Yes, I do. There's too many billions of dollars invested and circulating the cryptosphere on a daily basis for the 'overall market' to not have more bull runs. How IOTA is positioned in those bullruns is of course a whole 'nother topic
Personally, I keep 95%+ of my wealth in IOTA. That's the strongest sentiment I can express

submitted by btlkhs to Iota [link] [comments]


2020.09.21 05:04 Toxsick_Jokerr Air Handler turning on and off every few seconds.

I have had my Nest for over a year with zero issues.
As of yesterday it doesn’t matter what the temp is set to the air handler is coming on for about 15 seconds, and turning off for about 15.
The unit hasn’t been touched... firmware is up to date. Auto Scheduling and Learning is off. I’m confused. 🤪
submitted by Toxsick_Jokerr to Nest [link] [comments]


2020.09.21 01:51 gabrielwilkinson Vermilion

There are too many names for the color red. I could come up with fifty and never repeat myself, especially if you count words like ruby, garnet, cherry... All those pricks of color we catch without meaning to and turn into a name. Holly berries in winter, apples in autumn. A girlfriend's lipstick on a summer picnic, drawn into a smile like a sail in the breeze, or spring carnations on her corsage. Red carnations, obviously.
If I told you Cardinals were the planet's most spectacular bird, you'd probably disagree, they're small songbirds after all. And if I corrected myself and said the most spectacular looking bird, you'd tell me to find a parrot. Sure, parrots are brilliant too, but I'm a purist at heart. And if I told you that every lackluster sedan that rattles down the interstate ought to be brought to life and executed at the feet of a sanguine sports car, would you laugh like I was joking? Sure, and you'd walk away. And if I insisted that the orange-yellow flames of a minivan on fire were not red enough? Would you get it?
I asked Molly to be my baby and I gave her a scarlet rose.
I asked her to be my date to Prom, so many years ago, with a boutonniere for me and a corsage for her, both sporting carnations tied with twine.
I asked her to marry me on a picnic when we were still happy, and she told me yes through a mouth stained with ladybug lipstick.
But she killed the cardinal. Years later. He really hurt her; I'll give her that. His nest was near our front door and, in protecting his eggs, he chased her into the house and pecked at her face and scratched at her hands. She bled so pretty; she was that kind of girl. But she hit him square with a broom, that beautiful Cardinal. And his neck snapped on the kitchen wall.
She'd made me sell the Jag, the one the dealership called "carmine," so we could afford a minivan. That was after I'd got her pregnant. Which is good actually -- if it could fit twins fully grown it could fit them dead, still inside their mom. She fit really well once I cut her throat and got all the seats out the back. I drove it to the strip mall down the road, bought some gas and a lighter from the station, soaked Molly and our babies and the whole van, and lit it all up. Like some kind of biblical insult, the flames were orange. A boring orange too, not racecar-stripes orange, but a kind of underripe-tangerine.
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