Mertag, Life Of @mertag770 - Tumblr Blog

Remember the time it was so hot in halifax that the lampposts melted because I completely forgot to post about it when I was actually in halifax so here it is 2 weeks late

gentlemanbones

They just look so tired and ready to give up.

transhumanisticpanspermia

this is an art installation

the melting point of steel is over 2,600 degrees fahrenheit

candlelion-deactivated20140107

it was a rough summer in halifax

Who was hiding Daisy Grenade from me for so long? This song slaps.

#Youtube

hometoursandotherstuff

DIY basement stairs made with miscellaneous pieces of wood. Check out the railing bracket, too.

makingimages

robotdogdyke

There are cathedrals everywhere for those with eyes to see them

milf--adjacent

Thog not so impressed by titles on the Granite Box 360. Me prefer Pumice Station III.

enki2

hylianengineer

@copperbadge this seems up your alley

copperbadge

If the system ain't broke, don't fix it, I guess! Accounting may not be the oldest profession, but someone had to keep the books for them.

I mean, in theory I know that Excel is based on the structure of earlier accounting technology that's been around for hundreds of years -- what do we think we did to track commerce before computers? -- but it still kind of blows my mind to, for example, look at my ancestor's journal from a whaling voyage in 1770 and see spreadsheets in the back.

charaznablespeteevee

self-loving-vampire

According to the book I'm reading, proto-Cuneiform writing seems to have actually started as spreadsheets to keep track of resources rather than as a way to record language or express ideas.

The administrators of that extremely early city had to keep track of lots of things, and doing this by memory alone was a nightmare. These spreadsheets were devised as a solution to that as an evolution of an earlier system that used clay tokens and balls.

Spreadsheets are older than written language as we currently understand it.

quotestomorals

How grand she is, how unapproachable. She wounds you in the way that roses wound, though not, as has been often said, with thorns. A rose will always wound you with its rose and, though the sore may be a briar-scratch, still more often it may be a wound from utter beauty, utter burning beauty.

Aniara 19.