Wait. Not *everything* is terrible.
Argh, now I re-read it again just for the "morgan freeman" voice on my mind
Yeah, so you babyproof like crazy for your first kid, block the staircase, the medicine cabinet and the knife drawer for the second, and just forget about it when the third kid comes along…but one thing’s for sure, they all shit their pants! Thank the Powers That Be that they can’t let us know in a Morgan Freeman voice like this little dude.
Una Playstation 3 con el PES 2017 o el FIFA 15 en una Micro (bus de pasajeros para los amigos de Latinoamérica) no es una imagen que se vea todos los días en Chile. Pero en la ciudad de Concepción esto ya es parte de la cotidaneidad.
Resulta que Rodrigo Hernández conduce hace unos años en la línea “Vía Futuro”, y para palear el aburrimiento de las horas de espera en el terminal, decidió llevar su consola para jugar con sus colegas.
“En el terminal esperamos mucho tiempo y decidí para matar el tiempo traer mi Playstation. Un día se me quedó encendida, y un pasajero me preguntó si podía jugar, como tenía el control acá encima y se lo ofrecí”, y así comenzó la historia de la micro con Playstation.
“Excelente iniciativa, a uno lo va despejando”, dice uno de los estudiantes que se sube por $160 pesos a la micro.
Rodrigo Hernández sabe que esto hace más ameno los viajes después de largas horas de estudio o trabajo.
En la tarde los estudiantes y la gente que viene estresada del trabajo, esto le cae súper bien.
Pero no solo se juega “Play”, este chofer también ofrece películas en Netflix y videos en Youtube.
Oh, I am a believer... and hanging to this tree really hard for a while, in case you're wondering why...
Click here to go see the bonus panel!
Then, Earth can wipe its nose with Enceladus.
I think I need to learn to bake something with potatoes, 'cuz I owe somethink to this draw-lady-consultant... or maybe just to the artist, dunno.
I really needed to read this today. Thank you.
Potato girl has her life goals in order.
6 EASSSSY SSSTEPSS
LUAN: @jump-around-jumpjump! It looks like…!
LUAN: Uhm,you know what? I give up. This one is just too easy.
Migaloo is a white adult male humpback whale, estimated to have been born in 1986. He was first spotted in 1991 passing through Byron Bay, New South Wales. Migaloo has been given extra protection due to his uniqueness; under government legislation, any vessel will be fined $16,500 if it comes within 500 meters of the white whale. (x)
It was thought that Migaloo was the only white whale in existence, but then an all-white humpback calf was spotted in 2011. In 2018, another white calf was seen swimming with its mother off the coast of New South Wales (seen below). Scientists theorize that Migaloo may be breeding, but more genetic testing is needed to confirm he’s the white calf’s father.
Kareem Waris Olamilekan aka ‘Waspa’ is a young, up-and-coming Nigerian artist that specialized in hyperrealism. Based in Lagos, the 11-year-old started drawing at the age of six and says he is most inspired by Michelangelo and fellow Nigerian portrait artist, Arinze Stanley Egbengwu.
The 11-year-old gained international recognition after drawing a hyperrealistic portrait for French President Emmanuel Macron in just two hours. The President was stunned by the results, sharing his admiration on Twitter.
Olamilekan currently attends the local Ayowole Academy of Art, created by graduate art student Adeniyi Adewole. It will be exciting to watch this young talent develop and grow. To keep up with his latest projects, be sure to follow him on Instagram.
Wow, so... realistic.
Players suspect that the election results for EVE Online’s thirteenth Council of Stellar Management may have been tainted by dirty tricks, including out-and-out vote buying. Of course, this being EVE, dirty tricks are perfectly legal.
Hahahaha! thaw wiggle! fat cat is fat.
Ok, this is a hell of an idea, and I haven't seen shared enough, and it seems so simple...
You’re telling your own story: You graduated college and you’re a grown-ass woman now. Tina Fey is your hero; Beyoncé, your preacher.
You know how to take care of you. You’ve learned self-defense. If any man ever hit you, you’d rip his eyes out. You’ve seen Mad Men, and if anyone ever sexually harassed you at work, you’d tell him to fuck right off, throw your coffee in his face, and wave two middle fingers as you marched out the door.
You get your first internship. You get your first credit card. You get to walk into Nordstrom, where your mom would never take you, and congratulate yourself with one fabulous black leather skirt, and the heels to match.
Your car? It’s the car of a college student. You get a lease, graduate from the rusted Civic to last year’s Accord.
You get your first student loan bill, and look at all those numbers.
Your life turns into a stock photo tagged “young professionals”: you and your new work friends, hanging out at the bar across the street from the office. The cocktails cost twice as much as you paid when you still measured time by semesters and nights by cans of PBR.
The college boyfriend gets serious. You move into his place, spruce it up by buying your first coffee table together. Ikea lets you put half on your newest credit card.
Your internship ends before you find a permanent job. You pay minimum payments, then max out your cards again buying two days’ worth of groceries and filling your gas tank half way.
Your bank app upgrades to a new feature that combines all your balances — the shiny Nordstrom card with the Visa and the Chase Freedom you were only supposed to use for emergencies — and tells you that somehow you owe people seven thousand dollars.
Your boyfriend offers to cover the rent for a while. You get a job a few months later, but you’re that many loan payments behind. Your first paycheck feels like a breath of air that gets sucked right out of your lungs.
Your new boss, who seems nice, calls you in his office, shows you a picture of his kids. He jokes about his son, then as you’re laughing, he puts his hand on your arm, gives you a little squeeze. You smile it off.
You wait to pay the electric bill while you’re gathering up the half you owe, and the lights go out. On your phone you see the email about the $50 late fee. Your boyfriend asks how you could be so stupid. “I am not stupid,” you say. You would never be with someone who called you names, but you would never be able to make first, last, and deposit right now, either.
You say yes to payday P.F. Chang’s with your new co-workers, because you want to make friends, your turkey sandwich sounds boring, and what’s one more charge? You buy a halter dress you know you can’t afford, because it makes you look like the successful young woman you want everyone to think you are.
Your boss tells you that you look nice in that dress, asks you to do a spin. Just to get the moment over with, you do.
Your boyfriend asks you how much you paid for it, says it makes you look chubby. You lock yourself in the bathroom until he bangs on the door so hard you think he must have hurt himself. After he falls asleep, you search Craigslist for places, and can’t believe how expensive rent’s gotten around town. You erase your Internet history and go to sleep.
A few weeks later, your boss calls a one-on-one in his office, walks up behind you, and stands too close. His breath fogs your neck. His hand crawls up your new dress. You squirm away. He says, “Sorry, I thought…”
You know what to do. You’re just shocked to find you’re not doing it. You are not telling him to fuck off. You are not storming out. All you’re doing is math. You have $159 in the bank and your car payment and your maxed out credit cards and you’ll die before you ask your dad for a loan again and it all equals one thought: I need this job.
“It’s ok,” you hear your voice saying. “Just forget it.” You scurry out of the room, survey the office half full of women, and wonder how many of them have secrets like the one you’re about to keep.
At the apartment, your best guy friend calls. After you hang up, your boyfriend says you laugh too much with him, that you’re flirting with him, probably sleeping with him. You say it’s not like that. You yell, he yells. You try to leave, he blocks your way. When you struggle to get by, he grabs your wrist in the exact way they pretended to in self-defense class, and you know to go for the eyes, but you don’t know how to go for his eyes. He yanks you back until you fall and crack the coffee table.
He seems so sorry, cries, even, so that night you lie down in the same bed. You stare up at the dark and try to calculate how long it would take you to save up the cash to move out. Telling yourself that he’s sorry, convincing yourself it was an accident, discounting this one time because he didn’t hit you, exactly, seems much more feasible than finding the money, with what you owe every month. The next time you go out as a couple, his arm around your shoulders, you look at all the other girlfriends and imagine finger-sized bruises under their long sleeves.
Wait. This story sucks. If it were one of those Choose Your Own Adventures, here’s where you’d want to flip back, start over, rewrite what happens to you.
You graduated college and you’re a grown-ass woman now. Tina Fey is your hero. Beyoncé, your preacher.
If any man ever hit you, if anyone ever sexually harassed you, you’d tell him to fuck right off. You want to be, no, you will be the kind of woman who can tell anyone to fuck off if a fuck off is deserved, so naturally you start a Fuck Off Fund.
To build this account, you keep living like you lived as a broke student. Drive the decade-old Civic even after the fender falls off. Buy the thrift store clothes. You waitress on Saturdays, even though you work Monday through Friday. You make do with the garage sale coffee table. It’s hard, your loan payments suck, but you make girl’s night an at-home thing and do tacos potluck.
You save up a Fuck Off Fund of $1,000, $2,000, $3,000, then enough to live half a year without anyone else’s help. So when your boss tells you that you look nice, asks you to do a spin, you say, “Is there some way you need my assistance in the professional capacity or can I go back to my desk now?”
When your boyfriend calls you stupid, you say if he ever says that again, you’re out of there, and it’s not hard to imagine how you’ll accomplish your getaway.
When your boss attempts to grope you, you say, “Fuck off, you creep!” You wave two middle fingers in the air, and march over to HR. Whether the system protects you or fails you, you will be able to take care of yourself.
When your boyfriend pounds the door, grabs your wrist, you see it as the red flag it is, leave a post-it in the night that says, “Fuck off, lunatic douche!” You stay up in a fancy hotel drinking room service champagne, shopping for apartments, and swiping around on Tinder.
Once your Fuck Off Fund is built back up, with your new, better job, you pay cash for the most bad ass black leather skirt you can find, upgrade to the used but nicer convertible you’ve always wanted, and start saving to go to Thailand with your best friend the next summer.
Yes, that’s a better story.
It’s a story no one ever told me.
It’s the kind I’d hope for you.
Paulette Perhach has been published at Salon.com, The Journal, and various other newspapers and magazines. She collaborated with the Hugo House writing center to produce The Writer’s Welcome Kit, an online course that helps new writers figure out where to start. Follow her on Twitter or Facebook if you’d like.
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vampiricyoshi: neilnevins: neilnevins: Bugs Bunny could singlehandedly defeat Thanos by dressing up...
Ok, that brought some funny memories
Bugs Bunny could singlehandedly defeat Thanos by dressing up as a TSA agent and setting up a metal detector in the middle of the battlefield saying that all metal objects must be removed if you want to pass on through now stick around for my 2,000 word essay on just how effectively he would convince The Mad Titan to comply
“For shame, doc! Dontcha know we got other folks waiting?”
(Thanos looks behind him and sees dozens of Bugs Bunnies dressed as angry yelling travelers with huge bags of luggage. Thanos rubs his neck guiltily and begins sliding off the gauntlet)
I felt compelled
Is Bugs Bunny some kind of trickster god? Is he an Old One? Who is he
Video Of A New Fancy-Dancing Bird Of Paradise With Iridescent Plumage Caught Trying To Impress A Lady
Important bird news!
That girl dressing as the big boss! hahahaha!
El 6 de agosto de 1991 Tin Berners–Lee, ahora Sir Tim Berners–Lee hacía pública la primera página web. Era parte de un proyecto suyo propuesto en marzo de 1989 que tenía como objetivo poder compartir información entre grupos y personas que utilizaban distintos sistemas, incompatibles entre sí.
Competía con otros sistemas con objetivos parecidos como Gopher, muy popular en aquella época. Pero a diferencia de éste, por el que la Universidad de Minesotta decidió empezar a cobrar en febrero de 1993, el 30 de abril de 1993 el CERN, que es dónde trabajaba Tim Berners-Lee entonces, anunció que la web y sus protocolos asociados pasarían a ser del dominio público.
Y el resto, como suele decirse, es historia, hasta el punto de que para muchas personas la web es Internet… aunque hoy en día el mismísimo Tim Berners–Lee opina que la web está en peligro.
- Cataloging the World: Paul Otlet y el nacimiento de la era de la información
- Algunas lecturas sobre Paul Otlet, Vannevar Bush, Ted Nelson y el origen de la Web
- Lo que viene a continuación es el futuro: un documental sobre la World Wide Web
- How the Web was Born
- Emulador del que fue el primer navegador web «para todos»
- El verdadero origen de Internet
Oh, com'on! my brain just agreed with 75%-80% of those cast! why are they so accurate!!!
A fan made this cast poster for Marvel’s Avengers: Infinity War if it would have been released in the 90s.
[Source: Bochi-Bochi on FB]
The post If the Marvel Cinematic Universe Was Made in the 90s appeared first on Geeks are Sexy Technology News.
I feel you, bro...
César Hidalgo, docente chileno del MIT con vasta experiencia en el manejo de datos, ha hecho noticia, entre otras cosas, por desarrollar el proyecto DataChile, una moderna plataforma que integra, visualiza y distribuye datos públicos chilenos. Ahora, otro proyecto en una dirección parecida quiere sustituir a los políticos por modelos de inteligencia artificial.
Tal como se lee. El físico de la UC está trabajando en una tecnología que permita que la participación política sea a través de una inteligencia artificial. En una entrevista dada a El Mercurio, Hidalgo comentó que trabaja en una suerte de político “avatar”:
Imagínate un futuro en el cual cada persona tiene un senador personalizado, pero ese senador personalizado no es una persona, es un software, un agente de inteligencia artificial, que toma datos sobre tus hábitos de lectura, sobre tus interacciones en redes sociales, tu test de personalidad, información que tú le provees a esa persona virtual para que te represente cada vez que una ley o una legislación se va a votar.
Esta IA tendrá la capacidad de analizar los datos de la persona y cruzarla con las legislaciones. De esta forma, se tendrá un veredicto más acertado, “suprimiendo” las interrogantes o ambigüedades que pudiesen presentar los políticos de carne y hueso. Hidalgo también quiere que en un futuro esta IA tome decisiones automáticamente por nosotros.
Uno puede llegar a un mundo donde se pueda tener una participación directa que incluya al 100% de las personas, si es que uno sacrifica ese supuesto de que los representantes tienen que ser de carne y hueso.
La propuesta, se lanza en un momento donde entidades como Cambridge Analytica han hecho estragos con los sistemas democráticos. Y no solo en Estados Unidos o Reino Unido; en Chile, el marketing político y el uso del big data para manejar las elecciones, también es un hecho. Recordemos el caso de Instagis y el electo Sebastián Piñera.
En cualquier caso, se abren interrogantes sobre los alcances del término “político” para el proyecto. Así mismo, entran a colación temas como la verdadera efectividad del voto electrónico y la “capacidad” actual de las inteligencias artificiales, cuyo concepto de inteligencia se ha cuestionado. ¿Crees que sería viable un proyecto de este tipo?
Allways wondered why I feel embarassed when I did some little stupid thing (stupid for others, not for me), and now I see it was not for me, it was for others.
Honestly something that bothers me more than most things is having my compassion mistaken for naivety.
I know that another fish might eat this bullfrog right after I spend months rehabilitating it.
I know that turning a beetle back onto its legs won’t save it from falling over again when I walk away.
I know that there is no cosmic reward waiting for my soul based on how many worms I pick off a hot sidewalk to put into the mud, or how many times I’ve helped a a raccoon climb out of a too-deep trashcan.
I know things suffer, and things struggle, and things die uselessly all day long. I’m young and idealistic, but I’m not literally a child. I would never judge another person for walking by an injured bird, for ignoring a worm, or for not really caring about the fate of a frog in a pond full of, y’know, plenty of other frogs.
There is nothing wrong with that.
But I cannot cannot cannot look at something struggling and ignore it if I may have the power to help.
There is so much bad stuff in this world so far beyond my control, that I take comfort in the smallest, most thankless tasks. It’s a relief to say “I can help you in this moment,” even though they don’t understand.
I don’t need a devil’s advocate to tell me another fish probably ate that frog when I let it go, or that the raccoon probably ended up trapped in another dumpster the next night.
I know!!!! I know!!!!!!! But today I had the power to help! So I did! And it made me happy!
So just leave me alone alright thank u!!!!
I heard a story about this, a parable I guess.
There was a big storm and a ton of starfish were washed onto the beach, stranded much further up than they could get back and beginning to bake in the post-storm sunshine. A little girl was walking down the beach, picking up starfish and throwing them back into the sea. Some guy comes up and asks her what she’s doing. “Saving the starfish,” she says.
He looks around at the huge beach and the hundreds of starfish, and says “You can’t possibly save them all. I’m afraid you’re not gonna make much of a difference.”
She throws another starfish back into the ocean, and replies “It made a difference to that one.”
Yeah, I mean, we know we can’t change all the things. But have you ever noticed how much better life is when you’re around people who change things when they can?
Kindness is a choice. Even if it’s small, it’s worth it.
This is what I’m talking about, when I say that kindness and compassion do not equate with ignorance, stupidity, or naivety. Being cynical does not make someone more intelligent or more worldly.
Kindness is not weakness.
Kindness is brave. Especially when you also know that your kindness might not be returned, may even be met with anger or cruelty. It’s reaching out with an open hand, knowing that it’s just as likely to be bitten as it is to be held.
Kindness is hard. If you can’t find it in yourself to be kind, then fine. But don’t make it more difficult for those that can.
Kindness is a discipline, a skill like anything else. Don’t think you can simply be nice the odd time and call yourself kind. Kind takes work, ethic, perseverance. It must be pursued even in the darkest of times. Mercy is for those who deserve it the least and vows are for the times when it is most difficult to withstand.
If you aren’t pursuing it every day, then you’re not kind. You’re occasionally nice.
Well... they look happy, at least