Nucular, it’s pronounced nucular.

In a former job, I developed “software” (I clicked together some LabVIEW…) for custom designed scientific experiments, which many other researchers (mostly PhD students) would use. Wrote detailed SOPs for their usage, because everything was wonky and in constant evolution, and in some circumstances, data generated could be wrong. So I put a toggle switch with some cryptic acronym on the panel which was told to be flipped in the SOP when users reached the part where following instructions was really critical. The toggle switch did nothing but to log time and date and what user was logged in. When discussing weird data later on, first thing I did was to check whether that log existed, and if not heavily scrutinized the data with respect to errors that could be induced by not following the SOP.

He won’t, because he’s rich. The article is so apologetic already, several paragraphs about how bad this poor guy feels. Bonus points for mentioning he’s a father of four (nothing is mentioned about the victim’s family). "I’m not a thug!'. You disregarded other people’s safety and well being for your own benefit, when being called out, you used unreasonable force. That’s a thug to me.

… and then having carpet everywhere. Sometimes even kitchen and bathroom.

And a “perambulator” is a kid stroller. It was an enlightening moment when I first came across that word in Neil Stephenson’s “Seveneves”, delved into its etymology and then realised why my British friend called the stroller a “pram”. This is just a contracted form of perambulator.

It did not occur to me that there’s actually also a verb for it, so thank you for pointing that out! I love it, and I will use it henceforth!

Also something related I never came to grips with: cat’s breath = the stench of a thousand decaying corpses. Licks fur constantly. Fur = the smell of springtime itself.

My (unfortunately late) void had a scratching post with the top level just at my nose height, so whenever he lolled around there I made a point of taking a deep breath of fluffy freshness.

I guess every religion old enough has such kind of loopholes. I know from Roman Catholic that there can be made up so many exceptions that the 40 days of lent before Easter books down to a few days of actually fasting. No lent if you’re travelling (commute to work counts), no lent if you have guests, and of course no lent if you are a guest somewhere else. And Sunday is exempt from lent anyways.

The permit requirement does not apply to kitchen knives, does it? Been some time, but I travelled to Tokio quite frequently for work, and always made it a point to go to kappabashi and get a nice cooking knife, some of the longer than 20 cm.

“All the riches of these lands are mine, all of Gastown is MINE!” Scabrous Scrotus, yeah, sounds about right.

Yeah, it seems at a certain breaking point in the difficulty curve it becomes “catch up with the AI boni”, which made it a completely different game for me. And as you said, usually by renaissance you know if this is going to be a landslide victory (which at that point becomes a chore), or if you’re screwed.

I guess it shows how out of touch (old) I am that it’s completely bewildering to me that there could be people who do not understand folders … on a computer. Phones, tablets, yeah, I get that, those actively make it harder and harder to access the folder structure. But computers?

Oh, I have a similar story from my (unfortunately late) void:

Had a big chunk of pork, which I trimmed for the BBQ. All the cuttings (mostly fat) I put in a pad to render (?) the delicious lard. Somehow I forgot to put a lid on the pan while it cooled down, and the whole thing got forgotten in the mess the kitchen was after a nice Barbie and beers with friends. Next morning I woke up, thought “oh crap, the lard”. Went downstairs, first susicious thing: cat nowhere to be seen. Pan on the stove was completely clean. As in straight from the dishwasher clean. The I saw the cat lolling around on the sofa, barely awake, and almost unresponsive. Even shaking his morning treats did not prompt him to come into the kitchen (which usually was the ritual). And then it dawned on me: the little rascal slurped about a whole pound of pork lard during the night from the pan. Did not eat for two days straight, but seemed happy as a clam.

Wherever he is now, I hope he gets all the lard he wants.

Wait. The OPA from expanse? There is some resemblance, but I’d say it more looks like a gamepad/emoji hybrid.

Scientist here, a lot of my job is writing texts with references to other literature of the field, or reviewing such texts (or PowerPoints). Main screen has the document open, the other is actually in portrait format and has gazillions of open pdfs on it that are relevant to whatever I’m working on. I had to get this setup for working from home because productivity dropped immensely with only one screen.

I’ve seen those in the US not too long ago, too.

This so much. I have a three days a week home Office deal, and I did Not, We, Fr for some time and it sucked. Monday I just could not find a proper start for the workday, which in the end translated to doing more work in the evening. Same on fridays, where I just did not find a proper cut to end the work day. So bad it even went into Saturday mornings. Now I do Tu-Th as home Office days, which works amazingly.

You’re probably thinking of Tenet?

That’s not how thermodynamics work. It’s either transferring heat more efficiently, or not. But always the same, in both directions.

I’m pretty sure my Dad’s cat is really a glutton.

I am thoroughly confused, isn’t “Dudette” a term that’s used for female Dudes? Or “her Dudeness” if you aren’t into that whole brevity thing.