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The Dream Job, For Which I'd Never Hire Myself
leashed un 2020-10-09 a m
original prompt: "Catalyzed Symmetry Breaking"

The following hypothetical is, at least mostly, if not entirely, inspired by a recently expressed concern that I was diving head-first into one of those dispose-hall funnels that chute human sludge while extracting only time, naturally at cut-throat prices, and expectorate the biochemical remains in remarkably animated, responsabillallergic, forms; or as some bard spoke: "Eyewaskiurd, allwrite!"

In perverse discamerality: JOB is never the same, and the only recurrent character, currently: ANT.

JOB: I'm sorry, Dave, but your coins are no good.
ANT: Who's Dave?
JOB: I'm sorry, Dave, but I can't quite tell you!
ANT: What about bills? Bill's bills? Yardsobills?
JOB: I'm sorry, Dave, but I can't let you pay.
ANT: Goodbye, Dave! Drive safe.

JOB: Please, do not ANT in the office.
ANT: Where's Dave?
JOB: Dave is working, it's his shift to Dave today
ANT: You said Dave too many times... Todd!
JOB: I'm sorry, Dave, but you are neither hired
     on no need-to-know basis nor need to know so
     get your self, its exo skeleton, and wha---t
  t`ev-er else you drug in here out Out OUT NOWT!

JOB: Who you, now?
ANT: That is not important. See this?
JOB: No. Please describe it. Does it?
ANT: No. It does not. It is only a finite list:
     a long, long, list of detailed complaints.
JOB: Where they?
ANT: Here, although you said you don't see here.
JOB: Please describe it in greater detail, Dave.
ANT: There is discretized vehicular flux, marked
     by one kind of line, and the angry dots are
     where I could smell the unhappened wreckage
JOB: You're hired.

ANT: I quit.
JOB: No, don't quit, Dave! Please give two weeks'
     notice at least two days after your job desc
     ription has been compiled into simplyinglish
ANT: I listen.
JOB: Don't listen, you might overhear somedave.
ANT: I walk.
JOB: Good, good, that is a good start; go from
     one bus station to another. Read expected
     frequencies, and occasionally seek notice
     of sudden changes, although seldom enough
     that you have a plausible excuse to spend
     half an hour at most stations. Never scan
     the cards of anyone. Never board a bus.
     Walk to a different station.
ANT: All day?
JOB: What are you, stupid? It's a job. You only
     do this while your salary keepssallarring.
ANT: What's the point?
JOB: Eyes for the road. You see a bus, what ever,
     you see birds and bats and bees in twos and
     swarms and ones and threes and do not ever
     give two shakes of a cat's whisker; you see
     two buses, headsup! Listen, so when you see
     three busses, and two are more similar to
     each other of the two than the third, you


Hello, RSS Reader!
leashed un 2019-03-30 16:27:49

In the past few weeks, a new spider by the name of "Tiny Tiny RSS" has begun feeding quite voraciously upon this dump's meagre offerings; in fact, it's consistently ranking as the most frequently encountered noise in this server's logs. I'm inclined towards forgiveness, due to having tripped my own fair share of spam filters throughout the course of my work, yet I doubt that idly refreshing my nonsense hose counts as work!

  1. If you're the fellow responsible for the RSS Reader repeatedly requesting feed from, please consider this a friendly request that you calibrate your request frequency slightly closer to this server's distribution of update frequencies... as a sane default, request refreshment no more often than the lunar high tide.

  2. If you do not comply with this request, I may deem it necessary to issue threats.

  3. If you're a confused human, please consider this a misplaced robots file.

Competitive Snorodynamics
leashed un 2019-01-19 1403


Fine, the rest of this story will not contain shouted words, although the use of CamelCase at the start of sentences may be preserved; anyway, it pertains to a multiple-choice exam sat by the author recently, where the primary hindrance presented to the students consisted of FAA-compliant noise. Noting that nobody needed even a single muff, the proctor glanced at my choice of seating.

"You're left-handed?"

I nod, scattering allergens to assure the poison sniffers that the correct ghola had showed up for the Mentat Bowl, and prudently leave my cheating machines concealed yet readily accessible. Another proctor kindly wished me good luck, although the whorls of spacetime conspired me to think of the all-too-recent practice wherein children were forced to conform to seating limitations regardless of neurology. Ah well, we all bleed our age one way or another.

"Good luck!" said just about everyone, whether aloud, to themselves, or just to pretend they hadn't run out of mere politeness (quite the scarce resource).

Eventually, I notice a unital (as opposed to unitary, i.e. dimensional) discrepancy. These buggers are pernicious, especially when the exam purports to pertain to the physical sciences, but in truth does not contain a single SI-qualified value, opting instead for alphabet soup interspersed with "happy particles". I flag down a passing professor.

"You have a question for this one?", he mimes, doubtlessly thinking of the overworked teaching assistant.

"YES, YOU SILLY GOOSE, WHO ELSE?" I shout at nobody in particular, while nodding silently to respect the silence theater quivering at the brink of metastability. He walks over, punts my question at the nearest underspecified constant, and wanders off to give polite hints to less helpful questioners.

I guess it's time for me to eat more rotting fructose, since competitive thermodynamics is an awfully energy-consuming game: time is in finite supply, proportioned according to the Cayley-Hamilton nulleph (if you've got that sphere mapped; if you don't, please do: see Poincare's cut if you've already passed Dedekind). I don't blame that professor for my inevitable failure at this exam, as he'd actually given quite a helpful hint: he could tell I was asking for him to make a public clarification regarding a sloppily-worded question, the correct answer to which was painfully obvious, so he instead reminded me that the Grand Canon controlls how many ells deep drinks the spider.

Teacup - empty; birdseed - messy; orange - too flagrant a juicy snack, and there's still half the alloted time left! What could I possibly do now, other than start to actually work out the silly little calculus exercises? Maybe asking the proctors to unplug the noisy desktop computer fanning itself for no apparent reason, or at the very least tell us which prion it was busy refolding for the good of humanity, although somehow I suspect the answer to that would've been closer to:

Hush, little baby; don't say a word!
... never mind that noise you heard.
It's just the wormholes in your ear,
crawling thru that strength we fear.

At which point, the student to my right gets up, hands in his papers, and moves to leave.

"No! Stay!" quoth an audience member, who had elected to sit the exam undercover, out of true respect for the process.

"Sorry, honey, I've got a plane..." he replies, politely ignoring her "Can't it wait?" as he glides out, better than the most professional of bettors.

At least the desktop had decided to continue cooking its motherboard in silence by the time our friendly noisemaker began running his own fans overhead.

In Which Googlebot/2.1 Gambles Like A Child
leashed un 2018-11-28 21:19:20
ccl --eval (mapc 'ql:quickload '(:coleslaw :hunchentoot)) - [2018-11-28 21:13:23] "GET /tag/lies.html HTTP/1.1" 200 6953 "-" "Mozilla/5
.0 (compatible; Googlebot/2.1; +" - [2018-11-28 21:13:23] "GET /robots.txt HTTP/1.1" 404 360 "-" "Mozilla/5.0 (
compatible; Googlebot/2.1; +" - [2018-11-28 21:13:23] "GET /tag/prose.html HTTP/1.1" 200 9001 "-" "Mozilla/
5.0 (compatible; Googlebot/2.1; +" - [2018-11-28 21:13:23] "GET /tag/family.html HTTP/1.1" 200 9701 "-" "Mozilla
/5.0 (compatible; Googlebot/2.1; +"
(coleslaw:main "~/blog/")
;Loading #P".../src/quicklisp/local-projects/coleslaw/plugins/sitemap.fx64fsl".
;Loading #P"eee/src/quicklisp/local-projects/coleslaw/plugins/static-pages.fx64
;Loading #P"EEE/src/quicklisp/local-projects/coleslaw/plugins/versioned.fx64fsl
"...; rsync --delete -raz lol/src/quicklisp/local-projects/coleslaw/themes/snid
e/css .
; ln -sfn 1.html index.html
; mv /tmp/coleslaw/ /generated/3752428435
; rm -r /generated/3750221939/
; ln -sfn /generated/3752385548/ /.prev
; ln -sfn /generated/3752428435 /.curr
? - [2018-11-28 21:14:10] "GET / HTTP/1.0" 200 28296 "-" "w3m/0.5.3"
adlai@adlai:~ % grep tags blog/
tags: people, time, truth

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