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George posted:telegram this. telegram has a native desktop app. slash thread everyone move alo  what no these aren't tears i'm not crying it's just trotsky in here 
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Jun 6, 2018 12:41
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Silver Alicorn posted:not sure what you’re getting at here Kevin just something in my eye :☭)
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Jun 6, 2018 12:45
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PyPy posted:It must feel good to have a purpose in life. #occupymemory
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Jun 6, 2018 14:08
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Jimmy Carter posted:slack stumbled dick-first into a billion dollar company and still has no idea about how to build client apps imagine you sit down to have dinner at a restaurant with your family. the server comes over and gives you all breakfast menus even though it's 6PM. you all flip over the menu and look it up and down a few times, only seeing breakfast. a simple mistake. the server comes over to collect the menus--but just then the tiny bell held above the door by shoestring rings, and inward begin to pile frantic fragments of humanity. one arm and one leg belong to a journalist, because the Canon camera and sling have them tied up quite nicely. a flower dress amongst them suggest a grandmother but it's soon clear from the movement that no hip replacement is involved and it's an ironic millennial wearing dumb garbage. like a scene from Spirited Away, the restaurant springs to life. someone yells "take a selfie of me in front of the all-night breakfast place!". this wasn't meant to be a place for breakfast-seeking hooligans. but market demands spoke loudly. the server withdraws his hand. his life is breakfast now. you nod and leave with your family. as you curb stomp your children in super smash bros XI, letting the self-driving car self-drive itself home, you have time to think to yourself. when you were a kid, Reese's for breakfast was a _game changer_. will you stand in the way of progress? the next night you return to the restaurant. as expected, they are still honouring their mistakenly put-out breakfast menus, with Pill Gangs now feuding over seats or defecating in newspaper boxes half a block up. "table for 5" you say, and after the server sweeps some broken glass off an enviable booth table, you're reading to take on the future. breakfast, in the wrong place, at the wrong time. the next gunshot your hear tugs you awake. how many shots was that? are those Cop Drone rounds or Illegal Shots? it doesn't matter, you think, even as a Cop Drone careens into a building across the street and spills fire and smoke over the whole block like a bowl of spaghetti and pasta sauce just jumped off a super-sonic merry-go-round. "raspberries" says your wife. "french toast and raspberries". they don't fear death. they want raspberries. and come hell or high water, your family will have raspberries, with some left over for the self-driving car to munch on too. you clench your fist with cocksure determination. but as you slowly unclench your fist, the gravity of the situation rains down. sticky. your hands are sticky. there is syrup everywhere. holy poo poo. ew. no no no. that's kinda like javascript.
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Jun 6, 2018 16:08
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all sticky syrup as you sit upwards. everything is covered in a thin orange glaze. your rear end is glued to this horrible machine. and the machine is bleeding to death.
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Jun 6, 2018 17:30
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Jun 21, 2018 13:58
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i spent 3 hours writing a follow-up to the javascript post a few pages back in IRC. if anyone wants it posted here, what the hell is wrong with you.
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Jun 21, 2018 14:00
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obstipator posted:post it kevin. i could use some pleasure ok but you force my hand! have you ever been in a desert so dry you were tempted to drink rattle snake venom have you ever shaved with a razor so dull and rusted you had to heat it in an oven before it would singe off any hair have you ever had to gnaw at over-sized bullets to fit them in your fire-arm, knowing the shell could rupture and fire at any second, blowing your jaw off have you ever heard music, smelled dinner and turned the other way and ran, because the only feasts and celebrations in this town are around barbecued corpses, and they always want second helpings. to be in your shoes. it'll be 20+ years before they find the genetic pattern. i'd tell you to enjoy every minute. but time spent enjoying is time better spent preparing. have you ever been trailed for 8 straight days by Pill Gangs, hungry to feed on your flesh, only to outmaneuver them through a barren wasteland and watch them slowly, one by one, die of starvation. and then, after witnessing their agony, have no choice but to eat their bodies yourself. watching as Cyber-Chain-wielding men turn to boys, and then to helpless infants, then crawling corpses wasting away and beyond help. then had to pick away at their bones for the last bits of flesh their own bodies couldn't even summon as fuel to keep them alive another minute. Chapter 3: Punished Kevin after the cities had been picked dry of their food and weapons. after the moldy refrigerators claimed all the starving victims they could with sour-smelling packages of dietary russian roulette, there were still plenty of worms in the ground. not any more. even the worms were in short number. did they have the genetic pattern too? or were we, the few survivors, doing to the worms what the old world did to the oceans supply of fish, eating them all up. trains, no. but a caravan many years ago. we were resourceful, collecting up battery cells and anything electronic that could be used as a relay. dropping the improvised wireless repeaters whenever the signal got weak, the volunteer explorers made it out in the wilderness for weeks. we restricted radio contact to certain hours of the day, based on our synchronized mechanical watches, found in the remains of high-end jewelry stores and dresser drawers of gated communities. they were sure they'd find signs of life, those explorers. myself and others stayed behind, in the city, sure they'd find only more heat, dust and bones our there. as far as i know, the batteries held out. the fragile communication grid stayed in place as they traced backwards across the country, the opposite way the settlers had come. maybe the network did die. but the last communication was clear enough i could hear the crackling and sizzling of fire. the heaving and vomiting. and in between, the chewing. and the sobbing. over and over again. one or more of them was eating the rest. hard to sign back on after that. even though someone's belly was full, the radio was silent forever. and the worst part was, listening to it made me hungrier. there's a point where you stop rationing food as normal, and you start coveting one last tasty morsel as your last meal. dried raspberries, i'd found. dehydrated like they were freeze dried for an astronaut that had no idea their species would never reach the stars after all. i hid them, vacuum sealed under my gear, as safely tucked away as my failing organs in my body. i saved them for my date with death. the stars were out when it happened. i reached inside my layers of rags, and pulled out the raspberries. drifting in and out of conciousness, that's when they came. "he needs hydration!" one said. i clutched my hand. if my strength didn't keep these raspberries to me, the rigor mortis would. "here, this is all we have to drink", said the blur blocking out my last glimpse at the milky way. some kind of naive good samaritans. i couldn't lift my own head, but puckered my lips to drink whatever foul beverage had survived this long post apocalypse. no. it couldn't be. it was pure maple syrup, and it was 9PM at least. maple syrup and raspberries, no not at this hour. not in this place. no, and very sticky. the end.
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Jun 21, 2018 14:28
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carry on then posted:javascript the genetic pattern--the "code"--it took everything. the water dried up, the laptop sweltered. medicated silicon valley bros made identical products that ran side-by-side, only to slowly die humiliating deaths as new versions of front-end and back-end frameworks released, relying on desperately interlinked peer dependencies to work together, all with hardly any security oversight, downloaded from who knows where on deployment. they pushed on, out into the desktop, where it was one person's will to consume resources versus another's. all one could hope for in the end was a condensed, safe, piece of software in those last days. but unable to resist, molten next.js is poured down your throat. and though you despise the taste, you swallow 500MB of it uncompressed .dmg.
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Jun 21, 2018 14:49
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Silver Alicorn posted:too many words for me to derive adequate pleasure tbqh just be happy i left out semicolons
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Jun 21, 2018 17:12
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yeah that's part 2 and 3 of my other thing from a few pages ago. i'm constructing a whole yospos-eclusive fictional universe. my biggest influence is george lucas and his thesis of "stickiness".
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Jun 21, 2018 17:16
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encourage me further and i'll begin chapter 4 in irc
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Jun 21, 2018 18:36
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the last thing i remember was taking a claratin with a grande cafe mocha, and now i'm awake, sticky, and with a pounding headache wondering what in gods name i posted online
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Jun 21, 2018 22:16
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chapter 4 was posted in irc, did anyone like it
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Jun 22, 2018 12:22
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atomicthumbs posted:i like maple syrup ok the thesis was already explained. i'm a maple syrup developer.
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Jun 22, 2018 12:31
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Chapter 4: Pill Gangs gone were the inconveniences of child-safety locks. medication was administered by e-shots, painless drug injectors that kept us all safe with what many called out as DRM, based on tech called GenoID, amongst others. in the eerie looming years, while we still called the present by terms like "the 21st century", we thought these a cure for the opiate crises. now? the closest terms used to reference the present are phrases like "what's left now". no calendars mark holidays, and sadly don't none hope in the positions of the stars or planets. how lucky early folk were to foresee good fortune in them. even if we'd forgotten our knowledge of late 1900's space travel, finding any hope for the future would take more than solar eclipses or shooting stars. it would take more than prophecy. more than miracles. pressing pills was easy. much easier than forging a Chanel bag or an american $100 note or bond. fake pills had made their way onto the streets, even in to pharmacies at times, and to little concern. but once corrupt FDA and DEA measures made GenoID-based administrators mandatory, pills—no matter the colour shape or size—always meant illegal drug use. had economic growth been back in the positive, or had this happened 10 years earlier, new Albert Hoffmans would have been made, and defeated the GenoID DRM. and we’d all be comfortably injecting street-grade uppers and downers. but this was a turning point. maybe technology had won, and hacking had met it’s match. or maybe it just wasn’t worth it. this was the beginning of the Pill Gangs. EDIT: if you want more, think critically about that for a moment. if you still want more post some hype there is way more and it doesn't get better. PleasureKevin fucked around with this message at 13:27 on Jun 22, 2018 |
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Jun 22, 2018 12:36
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coke started showing up in pill form. a creative dealer making it a statement against the ban on pills, probably; never intending for it to be swallowed, just crushed up like always. but it caught on. some basement chemists pressed and labeled them with ironic names and logos. tyle-no-more on opiate blends, with the right font and everything. zolots, a play on “zoloft” that usually meant MDMA. and gone were complaints of “cut” or “laced” drugs. everything was sold as a blend. the demand for drugs at that time made the 70’s look like the prohibition years by comparison. then things went neon. using capsules saved on the cost of pill presses, and allowed radiant colours. even before the pill crises began, the only way to deter vandalism and graffiti wasn’t with soap and water, but with barbed wire and constant security. the neon-coloured capsule was stencilled on underpasses, and the more daring somehow left the mark on corporate buildings. train cars didn’t run much anymore, and it seemed graffiti taggers turned to another kind of car, luxury automobiles. their windshields tagged with hot pink and yellow pill capsules were large enough to make manual driving impossible (but self-driving functions sadly unaffected). PleasureKevin fucked around with this message at 11:37 on Jun 23, 2018 |
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Jun 23, 2018 11:35
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quote not edit
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Jun 23, 2018 11:37
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Mad Wack posted:what are the threads thoughts on "gitter" it looks OK, and doesn't look like Slack. there are apparently some native clients for it, but i haven't finished building one from the source and they don't even have screenshots so maybe they're not even GUIs or are part of some other "Gitter" ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i have asked a few questions on gitter and don't think i've ever got a response. Slack channels with 4-5 employees and like 0 customers are great for actually getting a response, but yeah, it's on Slack.
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Jun 24, 2018 05:01
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i'm having a lot of fun 
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Jun 25, 2018 11:39
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akadajet posted:i have some bad news for u praise be Awful - SA Forums browser by Nolan Waite https://itunes.apple.com/ca/app/awful-sa-forums-browser/id567936609?mt=8
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Jun 25, 2018 18:24
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actually the app is written in .png because i found png files in it.
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Jun 25, 2018 18:48
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some stuff i've tried to track: react-native-macos (aka react-native-desktop) uh... like 3-4 different JS-to-Swift and vice versa with a transpiler i guess what i'd like is to either write React apps in Swift and then native App apps in Swift, or write React apps in JS and convert them to native (which you can do on mobile) Silver Alicorn posted:http://spaceageideas.com/product/please-stop-using-electron-budget-short-sleeve-unisex-t-shirt/ i whole-heartedly agree with the message, and i'm "groovy" with the 70's willy wonka font, but for some reason upset
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Jun 26, 2018 06:34
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Silver Alicorn posted:nice product CRAPple no more than a day or two after i stop posting my Slack-inspired dystopian fiction about a barren wasteland does slack become a barren wasteland
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Jun 28, 2018 03:30
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i’m sure intellectuals were busy writing objections and defences of this last-straw privatization of health; while others insisted economy conditions or rogue states fuelled the new drug craze. i heard some say it wasn’t a craze at all, just a cultural symbol of defiance. but little was published. after schools fell almost entirely into the private sector, they went through acquisitions, sales, pivots, until there wasn’t really a place to publish such thoughts. unbelievable as it may sound, some context is necessary: not only were there little to no academic periodicals to submit to, there were major cities that… “deprecated” their public water systems. but far from being a bottled-water-only dystopia, it was actually far worse. shop owners didn’t receive their beverage deliveries. CEOs were never available for comment. they were missing. corporate headquarters were more and more reported deserted. i’m not talking about a terminal society without law and order, i mean a desolate skeleton of civilization where compliance was more enforced than ever; enforced mercilessly by the Cop Drones.
PleasureKevin fucked around with this message at 14:31 on Jun 28, 2018 |
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Jun 28, 2018 10:08
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KOTEX GOD OF BLOOD posted:not especially pleasure. i mean that post barely gave me a semi semis: [0]
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Jun 30, 2018 12:22
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| # ¿ May 22, 2024 06:36 |
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eslint joke
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Jul 1, 2018 07:06
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