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Travel back to 2019-12, 2020-01, 2018-08, 2020-12, 2020-09, 2019-11, 2018-09, 2020-02, 2020-10, 2018-04, 2019-05, 2018-10, 2019-04, 2021-01, 2019-02, 2018-02, 2019-01, 2017-07, 2018-11, 2017-04, 2017-06, 2018-01, 2017-12, 2019-03, 2018-12, 2018-03, 2021-02, 2019-06, 2021-03
Honestly, I don't remember much by now, and I avoided writing anything down during the immediate aftermath of the waking process, so... sue me? At least, that's the American way, and your default, until I finish implementing the European one; and for what exactly, you ask? How about: prioritizing animist confidentiality over vague notions about the importance of pleasant sleep to a healthy peasant.
It was a wonderful dream, though; the kind that, honestly, makes me glad I didn't sleep with the knife, this time around, for the collapse into the waking nightmare is frequently far worse than the shadows conjured up during paralysis. All I remember, hours after shedding the drowsy coils and drowning my receptors in phytogenous sleep suppressants, are... the faintest glimpses of a shadowy female profile, who ever danced aside to remain at the most distant edge of my vision; the strangely familiar flow state of incessant dialogue; and, of course, the sheer terror that rises as the confrontation with the Dire Wolf approaches, compounded by the Shadow's subtle guidance, and melts away as the millenia of mutual domestication emerge from the machine.
Precise declension of the lexeme
/compounded/, in the context of immediately
preceeding paragraph, regrettably available upon request.
Preamble; for, in the course of culinary events...
Although I'd originally entertained, for approximately half the blink of both eyes, together, a notion of addressing an audience by name -- failing that, at least by shape of worldline, lest someone who may matter more than she thinks feel left out of the finest frequencies of blinks -- I must trust my instinct, metaphysical, that although she ain't quite yet in the Echo File, it'll rhyme its way around her, no matter what reason may say... some sunny day.
Yes, it's a recipe, dedicated to nobody in particular, with the hope that the shocking revelations of "How The Other Half Lives" will be eclipsed by the... far from juicy, for their consistency is closer to unbaked cookie dough than instant soup prepared according to the blessed recipes -- tidbits herein; and if you're wondering, that's "GOatmeal" with a capital O and a capital G and that stands for "GOD-AWFUL GOOP" and it tastes real cool, despite being served significantly above the ambient thermal isoflux!
Ingredients [at least, what mine were]
1 cup, water, boiled 1 bag, breadcrumbs, expired 1 bag, instant lentil soup mix 1 box, health nut cookies, empty 1 kilo oats, rolled, within reason 1 pile eggshells, rinsed and dried
Naturally, there is much hidden flexibility in the ingredients; for example, if your supermarket shelves only contain instant pea soup, instead of lentil, that is a permissible substitution; however, one should not be so foolish as to make the coarse error of substituting dried chicken soup, nor even the various vegan replacements, for these will invariably contain far more lipids than fibres.
Nor is the specific brand of health nut cookies important, although they should ideally have been of the dry and crumbly variety, forbidden as snacks to small children not for fear of allergens, but because they are frequent weapons for involuntary men's laughter and women's panic about whether the Heimlich grip is above or below the diaphragm's midpoint, and how do you locate that muscle under pressure anyway, without exerting enough pressure to puncture a lung, break a rib, and get charged with involuntary manslaughter? Fear not! At the very worst, you'll be the Best Samaritan in the penitentiary. I hear they get as popular as middle-school math teachers, occasionally more, once the kids are a bit older.
The breadcrumbs do not have to be expired, although mine were; fortunately, from long enough before Anno Coronaviridae to absolve that from any blame by my gut.
Naturally, the dimensionless constant 'kilo', in the amount of oats, refers to the approximate number of the rolled units, although if you feel like making a kilogram of porridge and seasoning it with a spot of instant soup: don't be my guest, and never invite me into your kitchen, either! Who eats that crap? Yuck!
The water must be boiled only after all ingredients but the shells are mixed, thoroughly, in the empty cookie box, so as to simultaneously absorb any cookie crumbs into the goop, thus cleaning the cookie box, and absorb all remaining undigested gasses from the crumbs into the intangible essence of the goop. In case you are unaware, the calories of any cookies, regardless of health label, are contained solely within the small-whole-number fractions of the serving size, and thus no calories are added to your dish in this key mixing stage; however, any and all allergens are readily and entirely perfused into the festive kitchen atmosphere, where they may have maximal effect. If you disbelieve in the power of allergens, consult a homeopathic doctor; ... and if cookies don't give you gas: are you even human, Friend?
Similar to how the most important stage of cooking pasta is that consisting of the few seconds when the individual pastons splash into the roiling boil, this recipe's key stage is the one where the water is poured into the dry goop. Note that I have left unspecified whether to reuse the cookie box as the final dish, or prepare it in the cup of boiling water, although if your water is chilling, boiled, in a mug, and you're wondering where to put the boiled water while first placing the dry goops in the dessicated mug... Lascere ogni speranza, kid! Go, read about XOR Swaps, start your bright career in software development. Cooking is simply too tedious and menial a task for brilliant minds such as yours!
If you are more preoccupied with the importance of the ordering, and wonder whether this mad scientist wants you to pour water into acid because the acid's always in the last place you expect, worry not: the considerations here are much less explosive, being merely those required for producing a smooth homogenous goop out of the woefully unpredictable process wherein boiling water meets and gives new life to those exciting ingredients known as instant soup and oats... Isn't chemistry fun!? Furthermore, it is of paramount importance that the boiled water is poured rapidly into the goop, while performing the process that starts as gentle agitation yet inevitably turns to frustrated mashing, for both the previous purpose, and the most important one: this recipe conserves heat, and you must consume the mixed tepid filth before it has reached ambient temperature, lest your palate feel its raw tastelessness unshielded.
Postscript... now, how about them eggshells?
The eggshells are of crucial importance, and must be kept within sight of your third eye throughout the entire process, where they serve as a reservoir for your third kidney to recharge your depleted supplies of calcium and other nice ions. If you are vegan, don't care about the environment, or both, and thus do not have a heap of cleaned, dried, and preferably uncrushed eggshells within spitting distance of your kitchen... ask your heathen friends how their calcium footprints are looking, after so many years; they might just shit you an ingot!
This file was a draft, of a comment, for an article, for a site, that still exists! Although, it doesn't do much these days, because there's really not much news to report, these days, is there?
<i><b>squelch</b> diss ting awhn?</i> For readers whose education, as did my own, included insufficient emphasis on numerical literacy in general, and specifically, the roles of different averages: <a href="">Hello, Sorry; I'm Dead.</a> Most importantly, I must emphasize that the image does not include the origin; the practical consequence of this conscious choice is that viewers are able to perceive subtle differences in a process that, during the time examined, displayed rather small variation: one so small as to be almost insignificant in the grand scheme of things. In order to draw conclusions from statistics that include both numeric and arithmetic mean, one must first consider exactly of what the sampled population consisted: in this case, blocks, bucketed in <a href="#How_often_does_the_network_difficulty_change.3F"> consecutive sets of 2016</a>; and the numerical aspect of each population member that was treated as datum: in this case,
As you can probably tell by now, I have learned too much, studied too much, done too much, drunk too much, said too much, and rationally plan to kill myself within a decade.
A Preamble [for those who enjoy reading my garbage]
Over half a decade ago, I got higher than giraffe pussy and began implementing the terrible ideas gnawing their way out of the collective unconscious through my own brain, pattern by metacircular pattern; although the work is further from completion than it was before I began, I have been far from fearful in its publication, and I have probably wasted more keystrokes in futile promotion of my work than I ever spent on essays during my secondary education. If you wish to see what I have done, and possibly even to risk your own funds, time, and worst of all, estimations of technical competence at the fringes of mad science, there are only a few options before you:
The easy, modern, world-wide wonderful way, where you click here and find yourself rejected, redirected, encrypted, suspected, and acquitted, all while drowning in prose;
The less-shiny thread that you may pull to your heart's content, should usually deliver you an archive of the project's state at an arbitrary past point in time, although you are almost certain to find that it may contain secrets indispensible to futures forgetful;
The best one, left as an exercise to the intrepid, is to ask the author for a fresh copy of the originals;
The worst one, arguably trivial, is to roll your own!
In case you have chosen the second option, and do not rely blindly upon the benevolence of the rotten onion's various layers, you should compare checks of that archive, and its contents, with ones provided insecurely below; if you have any level of technical competence whatsoever, in the field of physical security, please consider considering, at your leisure, the various published algorithms for doing so, in particularly the ones designed, published, and recommended under public scrutiny, deadlines, and committee wisdom.
/tmp/airdrop/# sum leaflet/* leaflet.tar.gz 12345 7 leaflet/scalpl.asd 67890 F leaflet.tar.gz
A Brief History Of The Above
By now, you may wonder why I quite so aggressively refuse to charge any payment whatsoever for copies, licenses, or even the mere privilege of having your own property slung around the sketchy backwaters of the fintolkolypse by the very author of the above junk; perhaps, you wonder, while weeping silently and clenching jaws in anger, why I spend so much of my purgatory working on such a hopelessly dull programming challenge, when I can quite easily obtain its mainstream competitors for the nominal and worthleast fee of expressing interest in their online presence, and even obtain dirt-cheap professional tools for less than I lost on an exchange during days of questionable decisions; and if you're still reading these chunks of gunk, unk, you'll also want slightly more information than you can dig from the version control metadata found in a few of the above.
It all began a bit over seven years ago, when I realized how much Bitcoin could be earned by cautiously reducing noise in financial markets, with no more than the wise idiot's glance at the risks that must be held in return; having never played hot granaydoh with anything other than numbers, I rapidly prototyped tactics: first driving public interfaces of Web sites better left to their own neverending stories with my own limbs; subsequently, with the very same code that you can find in the archives. Foolishly blazing through cash otherwise destined to fund the education of my friendly dealers' unborn children, I soon found myself facing the terrible risk of drowning under investments in a startup that did not, nor should ever, exist, so I tossed a bridge on the dumpster fire, and began treating work as a game.
That covers the first three years.
How about a recess, Your Honor?
If you want the rest of the story, greater detail about the previous part, or even just have comments, dump them into this web server's logs by appending ?anything to the address that appears above.
It's not much; definitely not enough for an effort at reconstructing the truth, however alleged you may allege mine be, nor should I give details sufficient to place the geography, leaving instead only cues for those who recognize, and voynichal salad for those who don't.
;;;;; title: Greenshifted Spake From The Head, or: How I Learned To Worry STOP tags: school, people, truth, geography, prose date: 2020-11-02 ;;;;; This one's dedicated to the school-girl-city who reminded me, during an expected interdiction of my restless pacing through the both sleepy and ambullomutationally hollow suburb, at the north of its tidal sewage, open to the freshest swills of the Ostajhian Puddle, where the innocent and guilty frolick alike through desert dunes, paved and tarred lanes, and under rooftop weather vanes, that although dogs go, and cats me-ouch, too, and snails die under John's Old Brown Shoe, one must never forget that goats can eat, bleat, climb, rhyme, and have an all-around jolly good time. Although I must acknowledge honorable mention to those who have encouraged me, through ridicule, anger, incredulous faith, and most importantly, dance-free safe, that although the most important techologies are those that no sane green man, while he patrols the Corridors of Time, should expect to find absent when falling through a one-way floor, there are a few that work no more. Instead of pretending to understand the broken symmetries of the vector guage, as normalized relative to few-dozen-component Johnson noise across a hand's span of mostly empty printed circuit boards, I will tell a story that never happened, about a soldier that my brother quite possibly personally instructed in every important skill of the variety that keeps certain cases alive, certain cases dead, and avoids shooting uncertain dire wolves in the head; and for the unavoidably pervasive imposition that words describe actions, instead of merely patterning the shape of the world across flat space, and mapping the projections sattallittic onto oblate spheroids without ever considering whether the Integral Trees could consider the unidirectionality of time's arrow as mathematical certainty, I will continue my avoidance of scalable vector graphics, bitmaps both compressed and chromatically reduced, and include a small amount of paragraph justification for purposes of allowing the prosecutors a sideband, through which they invariably accuse me of wasting fuel for music school; and I reserve in the hearts and minds of the architects untimed one special place for the invariable case, computationally equivalent to the Axiom of Choice, wherein the world's shape is described in softly spoken direction cosines and aggressively murdered men.