just saw a 'comments' tab on someones blog you know where the following and likes tabs would be if enabled and it was just showing all the replies theyve made on peoples posts. this is fascinating when did this feature come out
if you've made replies on posts there is now a tab on your blog showing every post youve replied to and your reply.
if this is not what you want, either go to your blog and click comments and disable it from there or just go to your individual blogs setting pages. just change it from blue to grey if you dont want everyone to see your replies AND the post you're replying to
PLEASE BE ADVISED that it is set to disabled for blogs that have not made any replies but it will turn ON if you reply with that blog in the future.! i just tested it with my main, which was greyed out but it turned on the moment i left a test reply
figured i'd get the word out bc i have not seen a single mention of this and i'm sure there are plenty of people who maybe comment on things they don't want on display for everyone to see on their blog lol. you can still look at your replies with it toggled off just no one else can, like locking the following and likes list
I believe it's only auto-enabled if you were already sharing your likes. If you had like sharing turned off, reply sharing should (should) also be turned off.
Suddenly I am thinking about that article written by Brennan Lee Mulligan about being witness to extremely hyper-wealthy people believing they were going to live forever.
Not if the rest of us have anything to say about it, said the guy with words on his bullets to the heart of a health insurance CEO.
If you had guessed there would be a fortuneteller at this party you would have been dead wrong. Because there were two fortunetellers at thi
The old men were by far the most diverse bunch. Old billionaires wear whatever the fuck they want. One man wore a maroon, velvet, three-piece suit and a paisley cravat, and he must have been sweating in it, but I couldn’t tell because he had doused himself in a cologne that I’m going to call “A Million, Billion Different Kinds Of Fruit, by Calvin Klein.” There were two shaven-headed men of Caucasian descent, wearing black hakama robes and some kind of pendants. They had white socks and sandals, and from the way people were bowing to them, I’m guessing they were some kind of religious officials, but I can’t be quite sure. Whatever faith they practiced, it wasn’t Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, Sikhism, Baha’i, Taoism, Shinto, Confucianism, Voodoo, Wicca or the Dreamtime Faith of the Aboriginal Shamans. If I had to guess, I would say they were either members of the Illuminati, or we are living in the Matrix and they are priests from the remaining human city in the real, outer world.
I don’t know what religion they were from. Do we get why that’s scary? Aside from the fact that a vast chunk of my education centered on world religions and mythology, religions really want you to know about them. That’s their whole business model. They tell you why things are the way they are and then you give them money. So the fact that there’s a religion that I’m too poor to know about is deeply troubling.
These rich old billionaires were the kindest, sweetest old gents. In conversations I overheard more than once, a man worth more than my entire extended family (which is Irish and therefore vast and mighty) talked about another man at the party as “just being the sweetest soul,” or referred to a cupcake at a certain café as “sinfully seductive.” And I realized, these men may have been cutthroat sharks before, or they may have inherited their fortunes, but none of that matters now. They won. They won life. They are lions that, having killed enough gladiators, are now left gloriously alive to become old and toothless. The host of the party had an entire wall covered in plaques and trophies. I read most of them, and still couldn’t tell you what he did for a living. Because whatever he had done, he certainly didn’t need to do it anymore. His accomplishments referenced his humanitarianism, his civic heroism and his contributions to culture and civilization. So whether or not this man had worked at Bain Capital gutting companies in the American Heartland didn’t matter, because he had rescued a bunch of Tibetan art and now he was kissing other billionaires on both cheeks and saying, “Tom, I’m in love with you!” because who gives a fuck, I’m rich!
I watched these crazy old holiday wizards and their jeweled scarab wives, their Oxford sons and Cambridge daughters, and thought to myself, “This is the most fun I’ve ever seen anyone have. Louis the XVI would've shit a brick if he'd ever thrown a party this good. This is… so great. This is… completely fucked.”
I began to notice that people were looking at me funny. For a moment I became scared that they realized I was poor. Perhaps I had used the wrong fork, or a moth had flown in lazy spirals out of my wallet, or my toes had popped out of the holes in my shoes. But then I realized it was my expression that was drawing looks. I looked flabbergasted and astounded. And they didn’t.
That’s when I realized it. These motherfuckers weren’t going to the best party of their lives. They weren’t even necessarily going to the best party of their week. Who knows? Maybe one of these plutocrats was sneering at the lack of a third fortuneteller. “No augur divining mysteries from the movement of birds? No oracle breathing poison and screaming prophesies? You call this a Christmas Party!”
This is an awesome use of what is probably a master's degree if not a doctorate and I am 100% thrilled that she shared it even though it was embarrassing and she squeaked.
this is Hannah Fry, Professor of the Public Understanding of Mathematics at the University of Cambridge and president of the Institute of Mathematics and its Applications.
Every day I handle more money than I will ever make. Every day.
At the start of my employment, my boss showed me videos of people stealing, and we both had a chuckle about it. How silly they were! There was a camera overhead, and it’s not to watch the shoppers. See, we can’t actually stop shoplifters. They get away with it maybe nine out of ten times. But we, who are watched and tallied and witnessed? We are always caught.
At first it was hard to hold one hundred dollars bills. An amount I had never seen before. An amount that didn’t exist in my household. It’s normal now. Here is something that is not for me.
“What the hell, I’ll take another,” says the man, pondering our 200 dollar watches. What the hell. Total comes to 580 and not even a flinch in his face. I have been working for 11 hours today and made only 110 dollars. It will go to my rent. Today I work for free, it feels. When I get my check, I will have 35 dollars left for food and saving.
The six hundreds he hands me go into the cash register. For a moment, I imagine having money. Then I put it away, counting out his change.
I know for a fact we sell our products for double what they are worth. That I could be making commission. That they could hand me those 580 dollars and change my life and not even mark the difference in their checkbooks. He’s not the only sale they make today, but I am the reason they made it. He’s not the only one spending 600 dollars, but if I hadn’t spent two hours with him telling me about his life, he wouldn’t have spent any. I go home. I don’t own a watch.
I have watched and rewatched a video on how to make salmon four ways. My shopping list is always the same. Pasta. Rice. Tuna. If I can afford butter it was a good week. I dream of the world I will never walk in, where I can throw the best fish fillet in the cart with a shrug. I hold hundreds in my hand and look up at the camera. I put them under the cash drawer.
I go to work. I scrap together my savings. I eat my bowl of rice slowly. My manager takes a paid week off from work just for his birthday. He owns a yacht.
i wrote this while i was working at orlando’s walt disney world parks.
i was part of their college program. i moved to the state for it. they legally owned the building i was living in and still charged me rent. i ostensibly was being charged to work for them. it was a 2 bedroom apartment and they placed 6 adult women in it in forced triples.
as many as one in ten disney employees have experienced homelessness while working for the company. despite huge efforts to unionize, strike, or otherwise demand fair treatment; disney has refused to increase employee quality of life.
disney admits publicly that a good portion of their success is because the employees (“cast members”) are dedicated, passionate, and selfless. this is never reflected in pay. even “face” characters (ie those that are princesses etc) make barely above a minimum wage.
at the time that i worked there, i made $8.50 an hour. at one point i was asked to create a human shield around a bag because a bomb dog had alerted to it. for eight fucking dollars an hour.
i now work a very cushy office job. i have bought the salmon and cooked it all four ways.
i go to the store. i am nice to the person behind the counter. she looks up at the camera while she counts out my change. there is nothing fundamentally different about her and i.
call me crazy but i think public transportation should explicitly also be for actively drunk/high people. so they don’t, you know, drive under the influence.
i literally don’t care how afraid you are of drunk people. if they’re behaving well enough then there’s no reason to kick them off the bus.
if you can’t recognize it’s better for society for drunk people to have a way home that doesn’t involve them driving and potentially getting people killed then you just kind of suck actually.
Further context: Durham city council (Reform UK) cut funding and support for Pride. The Durham Miner's Association and other trade unions raised enough money for Durham Pride 2026 to go ahead - a direct call back to when Lesbian and Gays Support the Miners (LGSM) raised money for mining communities when Margaret Thatcher seized union funding during the miner strikes of 1984-85.
At the 1985 Labour party meet, the motion to support LGBT rights as a party was passed due to a block vote from mining unions.
Stephen Guy, the chair of the Durham Miners’ Association, said that when it became apparent Durham Pride was under threat, he took it upon himself to “encourage the trade union movement to step up and do the right thing, and stand shoulder to shoulder with the LGBT+ community […] They not only raised funds for us, but came to our communities, uplifted our spirits when they were down, and showed their solidarity.”
Once when I was in undergrad, someone described something as “problematic” in class and our professor was like, “That’s cool, but ‘problematic’ doesn’t really mean anything. It means that the thing you’re describing has a problem, and in and of itself that’s not bad. Art, especially, should always have problems, or else it’s not interesting and not art, either. It sounds like you’re trying to say that this is bad, but you don’t want to say ‘bad.’ Is that right?”
So from then on whenever one of us called something problematic, he would make us talk it out until we could name the “bad” thing we were hinting at. In this particular class, 7/10 it was some type of oppression, and the remainder was like, “I’m uncomfortable because this is very new/confusing/pushing boundaries that made me feel safe.”
Once we stopped calling things “problematic” and stopping at that, class got way more interesting and... we all had to say, like, “that’s racist” or “that’s misogynistic” or “ew capitalism gross” out loud, which a lot of us had never done in a classroom before. Or we had to be like, “Uhhh... I’m not sure what’s so bad?” and confront our own beliefs and that was maybe even more useful.
Anyway. Whenever I see the word problematic, I can’t help but think of this professor being like, “Good starting point, now let’s get specific.” I think when we have to commit to saying “that’s ___” it requires a lot more careful thought about the truth and impact and complexities of whatever we’re claiming. Sometimes there really is some bullshit afoot, and also sometimes it’s art, and it should be full of problems, because that’s what art is.
Website idea: Writers of all nationalities give each other advice on how to name OCs from their native culture/language.
For example, a native English speaker can tell you that "Henry Edward" is kinda weird and evokes Tudor kings, and a native Chinese speaker can tell you that, I don't know, "mīmī" sounds cute but means titties.
Re: Chinese names, there is something cool people should know about, (maybe you already know):
Using this database, you can access the names and biographical information of real people across Chinese historical periods and dynasties. You can go on here and find the names (not just given names but courtesy names and other sorts of honorary aliases, depending on the period) of thousands of real individuals, though it's almost entirely men in the older dynasties. Very few women.
Need a character name for your Tang Dynasty official? Check out the CBDB and find a *literal Tang Dynasty official* to grab a name from!
people who express seething, violent hatred towards cyclists: you make people feel unsafe as fuck! you're allowed to be annoyed with cyclists. some of us are dicks who need to learn the road rules. but anytime I see someone "joke" about hitting cyclists with their car I feel a little bit sick to my stomach.
feels like as soon as my feet are on the pedals of my only reliable mode of transport, I become a target for people driving a terrifyingly fast and heavy car. when I was barely a toddler, my dad had to go on rallies to raise awareness about the fact that people on bikes are PEOPLE who do not deserve to be KILLED BY DRIVERS.
he had slogans trying to remind people that he was a dad with a 2 year old son at home, because both him and his friends have had drivers swerve at them any time they got on their bicycles. I just find how "normal" it is to want to kill cyclists pretty fucking scary.
"it's just a joke" yep! but jokes are rooted in ideas that you are reinforcing. you can laugh about how annoying cyclists are without sounding like you want us to get life ending injuries for inconveniencing you.
two day update to this post! so soon, but what can you do!
little request and reminder: this post is not a platform for you to tell the world how much you despise cyclists. I see every addition! [,:
there has been a shocking (but somehow unsurprising) number of people who saw this post about how my friends and family are at the mercy of drivers every time we get on our bikes, this post about how so many people have lost friends to road rage because they were cyclists, and decided this was the right place to seethe about us without even a word of recognition for the actual issue I'm trying so hard to bring light to.
just. I don't know. maybe a post about people being killed is not the place to talk shit about said people! could we please practice thinking before we speak?
we gotta get back to torrent distribution, i just watched someone eat eight grand in bandwidth charges because they ran a direct-download piracy site with local file hosting through cloudflare. torrents were invented literally for this exact reason
i have a file or folder on my pc that i want to share with other people. let's call it gayshit.mp3
unfortunately gayshit.mp3 is 750mb and im not paying for discord nitro so i need another way to send it
i put it into qbittorrent and it makes a torrent file. this is essentially a very small file that points to gayshit.mp3 so other computers can find it. kinda like a treasure map
i send this tiny file to my friend, who loads it into qbittorrent. their computer takes a moment to find mine over the vast expanse of cyberspace and then (as long as my pc is running and the file is still where it should be), it gets copied from my hard drive to theirs
this is the cool part: if somebody else loads that tiny file, they can download it from both of us. if i'm offline but my friend is on, the third person can still get it. this also means that if two people have separate halves of the file, they can download the other half from each other. as long as some combination of people have the pieces between them, they can all have the whole thing.
crucially this does not require a server!!! you can just upload the file to a few people and as long as they keep it, it's still accessible. as long as somebody, somewhere is still connected, it's available forever. the only way it goes away is if everybody disconnects from it.
