'As you knock on the door, it opens by itself.'
'I close the door and try knocking again.' - our lawful paladin who didn't want to be rude
'As you knock on the door, it opens by itself.'
'I close the door and try knocking again.' - our lawful paladin who didn't want to be rude
doop doop doop
His final posting: "A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. [Live Long and Prosper.]"Read the rest
Yeah, it was pretty obvious from watching the show that this was going on.
Many of the mods seen on Pimp My Ride were faked or crap that fell apart weeks after filming. And that wasn't the worst of it. Read the rest
Holyshit! The movie of this printer printing in realtime looks like the time-shifted sped-up recording of other printers and that extruder suspension method is pure genius! Also: fuck yeah it's an Open Sources outfit!
I learned about the dress and the llamas from free-to-air television. Clearly I need to up my internet game.
Shared for "SELKIE HOGWARTS"
Southern fur seal pups in Kaikoura (NZ) have figured out a way to avoid taking their first swim in predator-filled waters. By travelling up a nearby stream, they reach a secluded waterfall pool where they can learn vital swimming skills in complete safety. A pup makes this journey only once, spending 3 days in the pool before returning to the sea with its newfound skills.
Life Story (2014)
I’VE. FUCKING. BEEN. HERE.
IT WAS A TOTAL ACCIDENT I STUMBLED UPON IT AND IT WAS AS MAGICAL AS IT LOOKS
I heart the Internet.
I would have gone with "as black as my heart."
This is the best twitter interaction ever about this dress that is breaking the internet!
Disney villain material for the next Lion King movie.
Top Shot: Eye of the Leopard
Top Shot features the photo with the most votes from the previous day’s Daily Dozen. The Daily Dozen is 12 photos chosen by the Your Shot editors each day from thousands of recent uploads. Our community has the chance to vote for their favorite from the selection.
A leopard with a unique eye lifts her head after a hunt in Botswana. Photograph by Wayne Wetherbee.
I <3 Carsie.
Something about me is perpetually sweet. Despite the tattoos, the songs about sex and whiskey and meanness, and the ferocity bubbling just beneath the surface, I seem to strike the average stranger as some breed of twee little big-eyed mammal. Every waitress over 22 calls me “sweetie”, every Petco employee insists on carrying my dog food to my car, and everybody’s grandmother wishes I would wear a dollbaby dress with sailboats on it. People I just met tend to describe me as “sweet” or “cute” or “so nice”.
I am resigned to being sweet, and cute doesn’t rankle me like it used to (usually). But here’s the thing: I’m not nice. Niceness is not something I’m into. I try to be kind, and thoughtful; I hold doors open, I give rides to the airport, I take my friends out for waffles when they get broken up with. But to me, “being nice” involves clamming up, putting on a happy face, and forgoing one’s own convictions and desires to avoid rocking the boat.
I am no clam, people. I love to rock the boat.
Let me rephrase that, actually. Rocking the boat is incredibly uncomfortable for me - it gives me stress dreams and sweaty hands - but I was born to rock the boat. Making other people uncomfortable is one of the byproducts of my best and most satisfying work, including many of the thoughts and feelings I have every day. Anything inside me that says otherwise is usually not me, but the years of be-a-good-little-girl conditioning that I accidentally absorbed from the air around me (in spite of my parents’ best intentions), like most women, in most of the world.
If you’ve been smoking what I’ve been smoking (sugar and spice and everything nice, Disney Princesses, rom coms, etcetera), you might have the same question I do: what do I do about all the bullshit I’ve inadvertently inhaled?
I think the antidote to this variety of bullshit includes a lot of real-world, large scale, external changes (like access to education and birth control for women everywhere, equal pay for equal work, and for people to stop acting like douche bags (and for that matter, selling them)). But I also think that we have opportunities to combat bullshit with the magic of our own minds.
So ladies (and gents… but mostly ladies), I hereby invite you to make yourself comfortable in your own life. I want us all to feel that there is no need to apologize for the size or intensity of our bodies, our minds, our feelings, or our choices.
I have a few ideas about how to implement this. We all got different bullshit cocktails, growing up, and we’re all equipped with different bullshit-filtration devices, so I don’t expect that everything in this post applies to everybody. Here’s some of what I’m grappling with, and how.
Entitlement has a bad reputation, and it’s mostly well deserved. I don’t enjoy being shoulder-checked by a trustfund dudebro (stumbling down the middle of Royal street texting, like a blind yeti) any more than the next gal. But there are some things we are entitled to:
We are each entitled to our bodies, our experiences, and the choices we make about our own lives.
When I say, “I’m entitled to my life”, I mean that I hold the title: I am the captain, the President, the head honcho, and the sole stockholder. Nobody else holds even one share.
Here’s what that means: if I have a feeling, and somebody else doesn’t like that I had that feeling, that’s tough titties for them. I should no more apologize for that feeling than a weed should apologize for growing in my garden. Maybe I don’t like the weed, maybe I wish the weed would grow somewhere else; but the weed has no responsibility for any of that. It’s there because of the sun and the wind and the bird that shat it out, and the whole course of the evolution of the universe. It’s entitled to be there.
Similarly, your body takes up the amount of space it does, it’s shaped how it’s shaped, and it feels how it feels. It gurgles and sweats and aches and farts. Your body is entitled to do all these things, and you, as the Chief Executive Officer of your body, are entitled to these things as well.
Your thoughts are in there, strung about like confetti after a party, and your memories, and your feelings. You are entitled to them all. You are entitled to everything that has ever happened to you, and all of the choices you’ve made, and all of the choices in front of you. If you fuck up, it was your decision to fuck up, and nobody else’s; and now it’s your decision whether to apologize for it, or fix it, or not.
I can remember most of this, most of the time, but occasionally I still get confused. Who decides if I should get another tattoo, for instance? I forget. Is it my husband, who’s not particularly keen on tattoos? Is it my mom, who’s acutely creeped out by them? Is it the old lady sitting next to me at this café, scowling? Is it that one loudmouthed fan of mine, who insists on airing his opinion of tattoos every time I post a picture on facebook? Well, let’s see…. my body is the one being tattooed, and I am entitled to my body. Nobody else is.
I have brainfarts in this area professionally and artistically, too. For example, who am I to write this post? I’m writing about topics that the feminist movement has been dealing with for years, and I’m not very well educated on the history of feminism. I haven’t read Gloria Steinem. I don’t have a degree in women’s studies – in fact, I don’t have any degrees in anything. But on the other hand, I am me. I am a human woman, and I have thoughts and feelings about that, and a blog to post them on. I’m entitled to my thoughts and feelings, and nobody else is.
A lot of people, mostly women, pick up the habit of prefacing their sentences with “well I kind of think that, like, sometimes…” or another excruciatingly long and self-immolating prefix. To me, this says, “I have a thought, but I don’t believe that I’m entitled to it.”
I hereby invite all of us to cultivate a healthy sense of entitlement to our own bodies, experiences, and choices. For clarity’s sake, here are the things we’re not entitled to: other people’s bodies, other people’s experiences, other people’s choices, and other people. They hold the title to their lives; we hold the title to ours.
Like most women I know, my feelings about my own appearance vary widely from day to day (and from moment to moment). Sometimes, I look in the mirror and see a total sex bomb. Other times, I see a blubberous ogre. In almost thirty years of research, I’ve only found one way to combat that Cosmo-reading, trash-talking, mean-girl demon in my head: find something more interesting to worry about.
The way we look is probably one of the least interesting things about us, and unquestionably one of the least interesting things about the world. Your head, regardless of its shape or accoutrements, is carrying inside it the most complex phenomenon in the known universe.
So next time you look in the mirror and scowl, or see an unflattering picture of yourself, or catch a peripheral glance of your blubberous ogre thighs, remember this: the world is chock-full of stuff that is infinitely more fascinating than the girth of your thighs. In this corner, we have AIDS and climate change and abject poverty. In this one, we have the Grand Canyon, wombats, and Mary Oliver. Pick any of these, think about them for twelve seconds, and laugh at yourself.
Let’s all begin to consciously prioritize our own pleasure, satisfaction, and self-expression over sitting and looking pretty. Here are some tricks:
Eat what you want.
Food is one of the primary sensual pleasures that the gods have allowed us, and if you’re reading this, you are living in a time of unprecedented culinary abundance and variety. You can very likely walk out of your house right now, and within an hour be back at home eating oysters, or chocolate ice cream, or bacon-wrapped dates, or a grapefruit the size of your head. You could be sipping a mango lassi, even though it’s February in New England. This, my friends, is a fucking miracle.
If I hear one more woman making her culinary choices based on the girth of her thighs alone, I’m going to drown myself in mango lassi. Sure, eat a salad sometimes, for health reasons or cosmetic ones. But other times, eat the bacon-wrapped dates, because they are a fucking miracle. Choose joyfully from the menu of your life – it’s long, and broad, and sacred.
Wear what you love.
Similarly, wear things that make you feel happy and wacky and soulful. Wear things that remind you of your childhood, or the beach, or mind-blowing sex. Don’t automatically resort to the thigh-fatness metric. If a dress makes you feel delighted and creative and full of magic, but your thighs look like overstuffed sausages, so be it. Now they are magic sausages.
Don’t just sit there and look pretty.
If someone snaps a picture of you doing something important or funny or inspiring – say, scaling a fish, or painting a house – and the demon in your head says you don’t look pretty, tell him to fuck off. Post that photo online. Instagram needs to be reminded that we are complex creatures; a woman can be pretty sometimes, and other times she can be happily (and greasily) scaling a fish. There is no law requiring perpetual prettiness, THANK GOD. Ain’t nobody got time for that.
We are entitled to our faces and bodies, however they are composed, whether anybody finds them pleasing or not. Post a picture in which you’re not pretty, but full of some other kind of light.
Sexual objectification is a big, nasty, complicated problem. As women, we bear the brunt of that problem most of the time. Here are just a few of the things that suck about it:
We objectify ourselves and each other.
As alluded to above, most women (yes, even us creative, smart, professional movers and shakers and doers and thinkers) have a deep–seated conviction that we’d be better off in life if we were prettier/thinner/taller. This is maddeningly stupid, and we know it, but it’s all smashed up in our subconscious primordial ooze, with the Disney Princesses and the Nationwide Insurance jingle, and we have a very hard time rooting it out.
We enable each other’s self-objectification by sizing up our friends (and enemies), commenting about their appearance, and complaining about our own appearance. When we say “have you lost weight?”, or “my thighs are getting so fat”, we are feeding each other’s demons.
I’m working on this one by putting the kibosh on all appearance-monitoring of my female friends, and all discussion (complainy or otherwise) of my own appearance. If that sounds really hard (like it does to me), remember the wombats and Mary Oliver.
Self-objectification makes us dumber.
Self-objectification results in a phenomenon called body monitoring, which literally makes us dumber. Body monitoring means thinking about how we look, imagining what we might look like to the other people in the room, fidgeting with our hair and clothes, and arranging our face and body in order to look more attractive. It happens so often, and takes up so much brain space, that it has a measurable effect on our ability to focus and perform.
This one is tough to combat, but my current approach is this: when I’m in a public place, and I notice I’m sitting in a way that might not look cute, I bite the bullet and keep sitting that way. I’m trying to train my demons the way I train my dogs: no rewards for bad behavior.
When we objectify ourselves during sex, we don’t get to have sex.
Sexual objectification makes us feel that we are not the subjects of our sexual encounters. I’m using “subject” here in the grammatical, sentence-diagramming sense, as in “the entity that is doing or being”; as opposed to the “object”, the “entity being acted upon”.
It’s simple grammar, folks: when we’re being sexually objectified, we’re not having sex. We are being sexed at, or in, or upon.
So here’s my challenge: the next time you have sex, verbalize a sentence in which in which you are the subject. That sentence should probably start with the word “I”, as in, “I want you to…” or “I like that”, or “I don’t like that”. (Interestingly, it seems like the most commonly-depicted phrase of dirty talk uttered by women in movies/books/porn is “fuck me”, or some variation of it - a sentence in which the speaker is still the object).
Of course, sometimes, sexual objectification can be fun (fear not, Fifty Shades devotees). I’ve been known to enjoy a helping of it from time to time. I’d argue that if it’s something you can openly discuss and ask your partners for, you are in fact acting as a sexual subject. (When you ask to be objectified, you have to make yourself the subject of the sentence, eg: “I want you to tie me up.”).
For extra credit: orchestrate a sexual encounter wherein you’re the subject. If someone were writing a story about the encounter, you would be the subject of most of the sentences (“she took off her dress” or “she climbed on top of him”). I am challenging us all to initiate more of the sex we have, and initiate more of the things we want during sex.
Oh! It is the same "Borax" as the cleaner. Exactly the same stuff. This is most convenient!
THANKS I had a lot of trouble finding that piece of data (went trough the entire library on chemistry).
OErjan -- email@example.com
BORAX as FLUX:
Borax is used for brazing and forge welding flux. It is applied several ways. Brazing rods are coated with it or plain. When using plain rods the end is heated and then dipped in some borax powder which sticks to the rod and begins to melt.
When forge welding it is common to sprinkle it on. Occasionally a hot piece of iron or steel is "dipped" in the can or box. Many smiths go to the trouble to forge a long handled spoon. Another method is to use a "poker" with a short bent end. The end is heated then dipped in the flux. The flux is then transferred to the part while it is still in the fire. This has the advantage of not removing the part from the fire OR sprinkling a lot of flux in the forge.
The high temperature solvent effect of borax will also dissolve refractories (such as your forge lining or fire brick), which after all, are metal oxides.
Recipe for Dehydrating Borax
Borax in the U.S.
In 1988 the Dial (soap) Corporation bought the exclusive rights to make and sell such home pantry staples as 20-Mule-Team Borax all-purpose cleaner, Borateem stain remover and Boraxo powdered hand soap. At the time the U.S. president is Ronald Reagan, fondly remembered as the host of "Death Valley Days" once sponsored on TV by Borax.
From the Dialcorp website:
"In 1880 a vast deposit of borax, nature's magic water softener and cleanser, is discovered in Death Valley, Calif. Soon teams of 20 mules are pulling 12-ton wagons across 165 miles of hot desert to the railroad. Today we market it as 20-Mule Team� Borax."
NOTE: Boraxo hand cleaner, is NOT the same as BORAX and does not work as flux. Welding flux may also have other substances added to it. Boron compounds such as boric acid are common additions. Flourite (flourspar) is also used for materials dificult to flux such as stainless steels. Flux grade flourite is 98% CaF2. Bladesmiths add 5 to 10% flourite to borax for forge welding stainless, nickle and chrome alloys.
Hmm, it would be trivial to mod a RepRap to do this.
Outside England ‘s Bristol Zoo there is a parking lot for 150 cars and 8 buses. For 25 years, it’s parking fees were managed by a very pleasant attendant. The fees were £1.40 for cars and £7 for buses.
Then, one day, after 25 solid years of never missing a day of work, he just didn’t show up; so the Zoo Management called the City Council and asked it to send them another parking agent.
The Council did some research and replied that the parking lot was the Zoo’s own responsibility.
The Zoo advised the Council that the attendant was a City employee.
The City Council responded that the lot attendant had never been on the City payroll.
Meanwhile, sitting in his villa somewhere on the coast of Spain or France or Italy … is a man who’d apparently had a ticket machine installed completely on his own and then had simply begun to show up every day, commencing to collect and keep the parking fees, estimated at about £560 per day — for 25 years.
Assuming 7 days a week, this amounts to just over 7 million pounds … and no one even knows his name.
Can we all just take a moment to moment to stare at Thom Browne’s Fall/Winter 2015 collection? Both the men’s and women’s collections were all about High Goth neo-Victorian everything, with veils for days. Top hats with veils? Check. The Muse referred to the collection as “what Helena Bonham Carter would wear to the funeral of her marriage”, and I’m pretty sure they were right.
This one’s from the menswear.
This came up in my feed as I was listening to https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pOyVXOLBDMQ and I found the combination pleasing.
The Bee Economy
Last May, a woman slowed down for a traffic accident on I-95 in Delaware, and saw something a bit odd: a man running away from the wreck tearing his clothes off and hitting himself. It turns out that the wrecked truck was carrying some 20 million honey bees from Florida to Maine.
These bee-carrying trucks are responsible for some $15 billion of the U.S. economy (they add $15 billion in value to U.S agriculture). Put another way, the crops that depend on bee pollination - like apples and broccoli - account for about $40 billion worth of agriculture. And the majority of those bees live on trucks.
So why all the fuss about bees? Because for years they have been mysteriously dying off. But now, they may be making a tenuous comeback. And the crazy part – the thing that makes it a risk to the economy – is that no one really knows why they were dying or why the crisis appears to be abating.
Starting around 2006, bees started abandoning their colonies and dying off. It was called Colony Collapse Disorder and to this day, according to the U.S. Department of Agriculture, no one really knows what’s behind it.
Initially, some scientiests thought this nomadic lifetsyle might be contributing to bee losses. But while the bee-truck industry hasn’t slowed, bee losses appear to have. Last winter, the U.S. lost 23.2% of its bees. That’s down from a 30.5% drop the year before and blow the 10-year average of 29.6%.
This could be thanks partially to private industry. A growing number of companies are pushing to expand beekeeping past just trucks and farms. Take urban beekeeping, for example.
It’s not just urban hippie types putting hives in their backyard, she says. Bees actually survive better in urban environments than rural ones. There’s an entire Ted talk on the subject. But as O’Leary sums it up, bees “like more stuff” and there’s a variety of plants and flowers for bees to choose from in cities.
Enrobed in the shadows of towering cedars lurks Baba Yaga, an iron-toothed witch and master of the elements. Residing in a hut set high upon chicken feet, the combs the forest and shores, collecting botanicals for her elixir. A wise-woman and healer, Baba Yaga will aid the pure and punish the undeserving.
The bottle sleeve for Arbutus Distillery‘s newest product includes four inverted skulls hidden in the negative space made by the chicken-feet trees. Having all of the legally-required info on the sleeve freed us up to create the gnarliest front label ever: a wicked, toothy grin that uses two foils and embossed details on the teeth.
in addition my 22 minute commute took 45 minutes even though I left the house at 6 fucking 20 AM.
*searches Craigslist for "free boat"*
A 14-year-old boy at a five-day "car-hacking threats" summer camp made a gadget from parts purchased at RadioShack to remotely infiltrate a connected car. Read the rest
Photographed by Mark Seliger for US Magazine, Ms. Anderson posed as every weirdo's favorite mama. It was hot.(more…)
Looking for an awesome way to mill out a photo or graphic? Check out [Matt Venn]’s halftone gcode generator which creates halftone CNC toolpaths from any image file. We’ve run across some halftone generators before, but [Matt]’s generator has some interesting features and makes for some pretty unique output.
[Matt] initially wrote a simple command line program in Python, but just rewrote his script with a more user-friendly UI that renders a preview of the output as you change options. The UI lets you change parameters like drill depth, number of lines, and the step size to tweak the output. It even has an option to map the halftone points along a sine wave which makes an interesting effect as shown in the image above.
[Matt]’s program generates standard gcode that you can use to run your CNC machine. [Matt] recommends milling a material with layers of different colors, but you can always mill a solid material and fill the routed areas with paint or dye instead. Want to grab the script or check out the source code? Head over to [Matt]’s GitHub repository.
Thanks for the tip, [Keith O].
Here’s a thing that is helpful and free! It’s a plugin that uses a dyslexic-friendly font and color coding to make reading easier for everyone, but especially for those of us with dyslexia, ADHD, or other learning disabilities.
Above text reads: “Make reading easier and faster with BeeLine Reader! BeeLine uses a color gradient to guide your eyes from the end of one line to the beginning of the next. This seemingly simple tweak makes reading substantially easier and faster because it allows you to transition between lines quickly and effortlessly. Thousands of people have taken our online diagnostic test, and over 90% of them saw a benefit from BeeLine. Many people are able to read 20% or 30% faster with BeeLine, even on their first try.
Our Chrome extension works great on news articles, wikipedia pages, and other text-heavy websites. You can choose between several different color schemes, and more features will be coming soon.”
I love this plugin so freaking much you guys.
Whoa, I can read even faster than my already pretty darn fast reading?!?
THIS IS SO GOOD.
I’ve actually retained more info from reading in this colour scheme
I saw this as a *facepalm*
I WANT A MAN SPLICED WITH THIS CREATURE
Brilliant! I have almost lost an eye to bungy cords several time. I feel the are more dangerous than my table saw!
I camp a lot and picked up six of these last year. I thought the pull ring was a good idea after having more than a few regular bungees slip from my hands while stretching. The ring makes these easy to secure. Even better, the ring provides an additional tie down location. This works out great when latching locations are limited. My wife really loves them, a huge plus. A simple, very useful, innovation.
-- Patrick Leary
Power Pull Bungey (Pack of 6)
Available from Amazon
The best and worst thing about Burning Man is people who go to Burning Man.
BMOrg’s latest post on ticketing does nothing to quell doubts about the motivations behind Ticket Hell. Taking us on an emotional roller coaster from hell, and generating and focusing a massive amount of psychic energy around a totem, are clearly uppermost in the minds of the rulers of Burning Man:
it takes time to process all those transactions. Maddening time. Anxiety-inducing time. Time people spent on an emotional rollercoaster from hell, as they waited helplessly to see whether or not the winds of fate would blow a golden ticket into their hands. And during this time, probably more intensive psychic energy was heaped onto one single thing than anything else in Burning Man’s 29-year history: The Little Green Man.
The Little Green Man (yes, we’re capitalizing it, shut up) was the little dude standing, strolling or running along the progress indicator bar, marking one’s advancement through the ticket queue. As ticket-seekers urged him on with a fervor worthy of a filly at the Derby, he ascended to the level of a little green mythical being of possibility that would make the average totem, rune, relic or fetish (wait for it…) green with envy.
So wait a minute – one of the world’s largest occult rituals, with a city of 70,000 people anchored around the symbol of The Man, sitting awestruck as the effigy burns – and even that doesn’t generate as much “intensive psychic energy heaped onto one single thing” as this ticketing process?
Most people wouldn’t consider the idea of making someone “green with envy” over a magical symbol like a totem, rune, or relic, as a thing to brag about. We are investing all our psychic energy into the alien-looking avatar of BMOrg’s creation, and being taken on an emotional roller coaster ride from Hell that puts us in a helpless position. This has been deliberately engineered, and now BMOrg are crowing about how well it all worked.
At one point there were Pac Man ghosts chasing the man:
The ghosts are yet another occult symbol. They emphasize the cycle of Death and Rebirth being celebrated in this annual sacrificial ritual.
[Update 2/23/14/ 11:53am] – Reader JV informs us that the Pac Man screenshot above was Photoshopped, and posted on Burning Man’s official web site in the discussion forums as a joke.
In another post de-briefing us on the situation, BMOrg said:
Did the servers crash?
No, they never did and the ticket buying process was never stopped — the queue was intentionally paused (briefly) to allow the servers to catch up to the demand — and nobody lost their place in line as a result.
This conflicts with reports from at least 5 different Burners who got a message that Ticketfly went down. Here’s a screenshot from one of them:
If Ticketfly had crashed, and the system had to be brought up again, that would have explained why some who were in the queue at 12:00:07 or less didn’t get tickets, while others who entered around 12:10:00 did. The queue was re-started on a new server, and all the people in the original queue were left hanging. If the system worked as planned, then how did people who logged in later skip the queue?
Whether the system crashed or not, it is becoming extremely clear that this did NOT operate on a FIFO (First In, First Out) basis. People who logged in at seconds past noon didn’t get tickets, while people who logged in 15 minutes or more after did.
Why did some Burners get offered a $20 donation to make, and some a $40? Something is obviously segmenting Burners into groups, before they get to buy. Is this segmentation based on Burner profiles? If not, then how do they decide who gets shown a $20 donation and who gets the $40? Random? Or once the tickets are sold, the donation cost rises?
It should be: every Burner is equal, first come-first serve, process the transactions simultaneously. This is a computer system, after all. It’s not like we are all actually standing in a line at a ticket booth, waiting for someone to type in our details and get back to us. I can see no technical reason why 21,500 transactions couldn’t be processed in less than 10 minutes.
What about the massive waste of time from when they sold the last ticket, to when they let Burners know there was no point waiting in the queue any more?
Why were people held in line for so long only to find out tickets had sold out?
The system lets people into the purchasing stage, and then people purchase their tickets. Until they’ve all successfully purchased their tickets, it’s not sold out. If for some reason somebody doesn’t complete their transaction (bad credit card, they bail out, etc.), then their spot is given to the next person in line. So we don’t remove people from the line until all the tickets have been successfully purchased, because technically you still have a chance to get one.
While this statement may be accurate on the face of it, it’s not the whole truth. If you are #50,000 in the line when the last ticket is sold, there is no chance for you to get a ticket, technically or otherwise. The statement does not adequately explain how
60,000 58,500 people were kept waiting in line for 15+ minutes after the last ticket had been sold. It takes no-one 15 minutes to complete the transaction with Ticketfly, not everyone.
Putting the pieces together, it seems like what happened was the queue didn’t shut down because there was still soe inventory available. The inventory was the Donations, which were unlimited.
Were people given any advantage if they made a donation?
No, not at all. It was first-come, first-served for everybody.
Another statement that is clearly not true, according to hundreds of Burner reports online. Some people were logging in to buy multiple tickets for their friends, because they could get straight through while their friends were still waiting. If it was “first-come, first-served for everybody”, this would have been impossible.
we do actively weed out known resellers as part of the registration process (that’s one of the reasons we have you register for the sale).
An admission here that Burner profiles are screened, and “undesirables” on their list are “weeded out”. Do they ever receive a message, being told “your Burner profile has not been accepted because we know you’re a reseller”? Or are they just sitting there in the queue, waiting like everyone else, but with no chance to get through because their code won’t be accepted?
as long as people are willing to buy tickets at exorbitant prices (we wish they wouldn’t, but some apparently do), there will be a market for predatory resellers. It’s antithetical to our community’s ethos, but it’s also the reality of supply and demand (and technically legal).
“We wish they wouldn’t”…and yet they hiked the price of VIP tickets to $800 this year. I guess $800 is no longer considered “exorbitant”, so long as you give the money to BMOrg instead of a fellow Burner.
The lack of vehicle passes is looking to be a huge problem, they have leaped to $325 now on Stubhub. Some Burners are prepared to go to extreme lengths to get the little slip of paper:
We have no information that this is Susan, or that this camp is offering vehicle pass trades. It’s Burning Man, these things do happen…
Some Burners are reporting that Verizon customers got through much faster:
Verizon Customer Service: I was a Verizon Customer Service Representative for 9 years until I moved into management. Verizon has a camp at BM, but I can’t tell you the name. We’ve been working closely with BMorg to bring cell service and other benefits to the playa. I can’t tell you officially that Verizon customers get preferential treatment in the sale of BM tickets, but if I were you, I would change service providers next year to increase your chances.
There has been a great deal of discussion online about this ticket situation. Here are a few selected highlights from Voices of Burning Man:
IE How can there be a thousand scalped tickets? Do 100 people work for stub hub who have the back door secret? Who, besides the 1%, can afford to pay $1000 for a ticket, many many tickets? Something just seems out of line here. I feel your pain.
Hmmm, okay, I guess that was my surprise of the day. I wasn’t going to play the game this year, but decided ‘oh what the hell’. So at 12 minutes after, I got in thinking I had zero chance since I know everyone else starts within seconds after the hour. Guess what? Tickets baby!
TEX : That’s exactly how BMorg has designed it. Make it a headache for anyone to attend the event on a regular basis unless they volunteer for the free labor force. “Be a slave like me, or you’re whining.” Typical ego response from volunteers. My other favorite is how volunteers see all non-volunteers and ‘civilians’. I don’t volunteer to support the infrastructure because the infrastructure crews are all like you. And please don’t tell me within the first 10 seconds of meeting you that you volunteer at the DMV. It’s like how New Yorkers always start off a conversation about how they’re from New York.
We didn’t break any rules as the codes they used were from other friends and they purchased all of our tickets as they were getting through so quickly.
I was lucky (so much so that I had to check my confirmation email multiple times to make sure that it was actually real) enough to get ticket within minutes and was never put in the dreaded queue. At about 11:59 (2:59 my time) I clicked the link in the email and was told I was to early. I kept closing the page and re-clicking the link until the page changed. My memory gets little fuzzy here – to much adrenaline – but I don’t even remember seeing a green button. The page first said something about the site being down. So I refreshed. Then it said all tickets were already in carts! BUT HOW COULD THAT BE!?! Only a minute had gone by. I just kept refreshing the page until the ticket buying option came up – bingo, got one in about four minutes.
This is the same thing I did last year. Refreshing constantly. Didn’t get put in queue either. Got my ticket in two minutes.
Unfortunately out of our planned camp of six, only myself and my friend got tickets. The others will join the thousands of others in the hunt for one.
To all of those looking – best of luck and stay positive.
Also, all international tickets are sent out via post which is way better as there’s no need to spend hours queueing for Will Call!!
I’ve no idea why BMorg don’t implement a similar system, why keep trying to reinvent the wheel??
This further implies that the end of all the successful 21,500 sales probably occurred around 64.5 minutes after noon, i.e. the AVERAGE rate of processing of successful transactions was about 1,000 every three minutes, or FIVE PER SECOND.
This further implies that TRANSACTIONS WERE PROCESSED IN PARALLEL. i.e. there were MULTIPLE SERVERS (or AT LEAST multiple threads within a single server) processing the eventually successful transactions at any given time. We can estimate that the fastest an average individual could possibly complete the final purchase with confirmations of credit card, mailing address, etc would be 10 seconds, and a more likely upper average transaction time for an individual final purchase completion would be about 60 seconds. Since the eventual average processing rate was 5 purchases per second, this means that there must have been somewhere between 50 and 300 processes (threads within servers) handling eventually successful transactions ON AVERAGE throughout the sale.
But given the EXTREME variations in expected wait times that I saw during my 57-minute wait to get to the final purchase page, IT CANNOT POSSIBLY BE TRUE that there was no variation in server resources (e.g. due to server or thread crashes/hangs) during the first hour of the sale process, EVEN WHEN YOU ACCOUNT FOR THE “PAUSE” of the line (unless you assume that the algorithm to calculate the remaining wait time was complete bullshit :-)
Because IF the allocation of server resources had remained constant (apart from the pause), and the average time taken by an individual to buy ticket(s) when they got to the final page remained constant, AND the remaining wait time algorithm WASN’T complete BS, then we should have seen expected remaining times decreasing monotonically throughout each successful purchasor’s sale process.
Because IF the position in the queue was determined by the server arrival times of the clicks on each user’s green button (in my case at about two SECONDS past noon), then effectively every eventually successful person’s position in the queue was determined WITHIN THE FIRST FEW SECONDS AFTER NOON of the sale, since on the basis of my experience clicking two seconds after noon (I synced my computer’s clock with the nist.gov atomic clock and had a display of that running during my purchase) and being probably one of the last people to get a ticket, there must have been over 20,000 green button clicks received at the servers within the first few seconds….
The thing that gets me (and probably most other people) emotionally wound up, is when we see (as I did), for over half an hour, that each minute my expected wait time is going down by a minute (so we believe all is going along nicely and we just have to wait) and then suddenly it goes up (as it did in my case) from 9 minutes to OVER AN HOUR, when we are MORE THAN HALF AN HOUR into the wait process. Changes like that CANNOT POSSIBLY be due to changes in the AVERAGE time taken by an individual user behavior in completing their purchase once they are on the final page, which probability theory tells us is EXTREMELY unlikely to change by a factor of two over many thousands of presumably similar buyers. It MUST be due to changes in the allocation of resources on the sever side (e.g. crashes).
So if the sale had proceeded per the theoretical “stable” model, by 30 minutes into it there should have been approximately 10,000 eventually successful purchases left to process. But my remaining wait time after waiting more than 30 minutes was shown to be 9 minutes (which would imply an estimated average sale completion of more than 1,000 per minute i.e. three times the final “official” average). But then it went up to “over an hour”, a change by more than a factor of six, which cannot be reasonably accounted for by changes in average user purchase time behavior.
On a technical note, there is really no need for the process to be as incomprehensible as it currently is. Since there is a pre-reg, it is trivial to load-balance ahead of time. In principle, if we expect 80,000 attempts to purchase, we can pre-allocate users to 80 servers, each of which only needs to process 1,000 requests (or equivalent architectures with multiple threads per server). The ONLY technical challenge is in fairly synchronizing across server queues, but if the clocks of the servers are synchronized, and arrival times of each user “green button click” are noted at each server down to the millisecond, then there is NO REASON WHATSOEVER not to make it totally transparent to everyone within the first few minutes of the sale EXACTLY what position they are at in the queue, EXACTLY what the average purchase processing time has been so far, and to show a REALISTIC view of how likely it is for their purchase to be successful given the current average number of tickets sold per customer, plus a REALISTIC and relatively predictably changing estimate of how long it will take to either get to the purchase page or find out that they have not been successful….
I’m a “glass half full” kind of guy, so I celebrate the fact that I was able to buy one ticket, but I still do think it was weird that I wasn’t able to buy two, and I strongly believe that the whole process could be dramatically improved…
People- My comments have nothing to do radical inclusion. This ticket thing year after year has nothing to do with radical inclusion. This is business making business decisions which for the life of me I don’t agree with.
Chip- Please help the rest of the org understand this, to give back to the loyal customers just like you did so perfectly at JDV.
Disappointed? Yes. But more just tired of this ticket game year after year.
The noise of the landlord's crew clearing the roof is really distracting. Half the windows in the building are like this now.
Welp, at least the snow is off the roof. #dayjob
Stop taunting me!