Computers are so scary what if I accidentally hit F12 in a steam game and it takes a screenshot. What if I press shift + F12 while in word and accidentally save my document đ
If you had to learn what the F keys on your computer do through me reblogging this post, then I'm glad you did. Computer literacy is not a skill that gets taught anymore, and it is absolutely one that needs to be taught in order to be learned. Don't ever feel bad for not knowing something, but âď¸ don't ever stop learning learning about your environment, the tools you use, and especially the people around you
there's been plenty of pushback against youtube's plan to age-check users by using an AI to analyze everyone's watching habits, but amidst that, i spotted this playlist circulating among some teens:
(picture is a reconstruction to protect the kids identity)
interesting! they're trying to trick the AI by watching videos that have a primarily adult viewer demographic? well im a curious fella so naturally i have to take a look-see, and
im simultaneously amused at the perception of what kids think adults watch, fascinated that they're thinking to take these measures, and saddened that theyre forced to live in a stupid digital panopticon
Every time I see this quote I realize how poor even very smart people are at looking at the long game and at assessing these things in context.
One of my favourite illustrations of this was in a First Aid class. The instructor was a working paramedic. He asked, âWho here knows the stats on CPR? What percentage of people are saved by CPR outside a hospital?â
I happen to know but Iâm trying not to be a TOTAL know it all in this class so I wait. And people guess 50% and he says, âLower,â and 20% and so forth and eventually I sort of half put up my hand and I guess I had The Face because he eventually looked at me and said, âYou know, donât you.â
âMy momâs a doc,â I said. He gave me a âso say itâ gesture and I said, âFour to ten percent depending on your sources.â
Everyone else looked surprised and horrified.
And the paramedic said, âWeâre gonna talk a bit about some details of those figures* but first I want to talk about just this: when do you do CPR?â
The class dutifully replies: when someone is unconscious, not breathing, and has no pulse.
âWhat do we call someone who is unconscious, not breathing, and has no pulse?â
The class tries to figure out what the trick question is so I jump over the long pause and say, âA corpse.â
âRight,â says the paramedic. âSomeone who isnât breathing and has no heartbeat is dead. So what Iâm telling you is that with this technique you have a 4-10% chance of raising the dead.â
So no, artists did not stop the Vietnam War from happening with the sheer Power of Art. The forces driving that military intervention were huge, had generations of momentum and are actually pretty damn complicated.
But if you think the mass rejection of the war was as meaningless as a soufflĂŠ - well.
Try sitting here for ten seconds and imagining where weâd be if the entire intellectual and artistic drive of the culture had been FOR the war. If everyone thought it was a GREAT IDEA.
What the whole world would look like.
Four-to-ten percent means that ninety to ninety-six percent of the time - more than nine times out of ten - CPR will do nothing, but that one time youâll be in the company of someone worshipped as an incarnate god.
If you think the artists and performers attacking and showing up people like Donald Trump is meaningless try imagining a version of the world wherein they werenât there.
(*if youâre curious: those stats count EVERY reported case of CPR, while the effectiveness of it is extremely time-related. With those who have had continuous CPR from the SECOND they went down, the number is actually above 80%. It drops hugely every 30 seconds from then on. When you count ALL cases you count cases where the person has already been down several minutes but a bystander still starts CPR, which affects the stats)
That Vonnegut quote brings this particular moment to mind:
Yes, itâs just a pie. Yes, the pie itself doesnât do much direct damage in the grand scheme of things. But the pie is resistance, and resistance inspires resistance. Resistance inspires survival. Throwing pies sometimes starts a movement. Throwing pies sometimes saves lives.
And of course, we havenât spoken about the inherent morality of throwing pies at oppressors in a world where oppressors have outlawed pie throwing. At the very least, pie throwing is a reminder to the oppressors that no matter how much money they have, no matter how much power they have, there are still some people, some moments they canât control.
Iâd rather go out throwing pies than just rolling over and accepting that pie throwing isnât going to solve anything. Yeah, the pie throwing doesnât immediately solve the problem, but it doesnât have to because itâs just a starting point. So throw the damn pie.
i paint. and because someone told me that another student wanted to get his portrait done i approached this man who i have barely exchanged two sentences before and said "i heard you want to get painted. i'll do it for 500"
and it took as two very confusing and exparating minutes of haggling about the price and outlining the logistics of said painting during which i said sentences like "you can be naked if you want but that would be extra" and "what do you mean why would you pay me. i do all the work?" while he got increasingly more flushed until i put my foot down and said "well if you want to be painted baroque style that's gonna cost some money" and he said "oh my god PAINTED. that makes a lot more sense."
turns out he misheard me and thought a stranger. a random person. came up to him in the middle of the lecture hall in front of god and everyone and loudly and confidently said "i heard you want get pegged." and then got mad at his refusal to pay half a grand for it. can you fucking imagine
AITA for going no contact with my brother after he pulled a scare on my husband?
EDIT: For those of you coming here from my brotherâs post (X) to shit on me, you look like idiots. Try to have an original thought and really contemplate whoâs telling the truth after hearing both sides.
I (32f) am one of three siblings. We come from a very well off family. My dad is a former Cryptid and he pioneered the Hook Man in the 70s, so he still gets residuals off of that. We grew up very comfortable and with the ability to do anything we wanted in life. My older brother went to a very prestigious school and my dad gave him the money for tuition. Because my older brother got scholarships, he was able to save some of that money. Right now he works in human tech (very lucrative), but his long-term plan is to use the money to start a Cyber Spook business once he is satisfied with his knowledge foundation.
I ended up taking a gap year before going to community college, but I never felt anything click. I worked part-time jobs spinning out scarer costumes and even did some part-time work as a slasher before deciding it wasnât for me. I finally found my calling when I offered to help cater for my high school reunion, and now I run a fairly successful catering business.
When it came time for my younger brother, âSteve,â to get his money, he didnât tell anyone what he was going to use it for. He was working as a Slasher at a small firm in town. We all assumed heâd either go to Scare School or invest the money to start a business like our older brother did.
So when Steve showed up to Halloween dinner one day, six feet taller with extra joints in his arms and legs, we were all shocked.
Dad was furious. He gave us all the same talk about the scare industry when we got our first part-time jobs documenting missions at his company. He told us that scare work was hard and backbreaking. We couldnât buy our way into it or use his connections to become successful. If we were interested in it, we had to work our way up from the ground like he did. If we didnât, weâd more than likely end up dead at the hands of a final girl.
He especially emphasized that mods had to be considered carefully and were NOT a substitute for skill.
Steve thought they were. When his company didnât pay him back for his body modification AND didnât promote him from Slasher to Regional Nightmare, he quit. But the surgeries drained his cash and he couldnât afford his apartment anymore. He had to move back in with Mom and Dad. As always, Mom totally coddled him. She said that he didnât have to pay rent and agreed with whatever he said when heâd go on these long tirades about his former company.
I could tell Dad wasnât happy with the arrangement, but heâs never been able to go against Mom. So he mostly kept his mouth shut though he did try to get Steve a job at his old company. However, last I heard, Steve was set against anything corporate and was spending a dozen hours a day driving around using the app SlashDash to find jobs.
About a year and a half ago, I was over for dinner with Steve, Mom and Dad. Steve was talking about work. He said SlashDash wasnât working out for him and was taking too many fees out. I offered advice since Iâd done Slashing in high school. I recommended sites like Scarework and Midnighterr to get more gigs.
Mom told me I interrupted Steve. She gestured for him to continue and tell me about his exciting new setup.
Steve told me he was beyond the sites I recommended. He said heâd bought a scanner so he could listen to broadcasts of active corporate missions. When those fail, he arrives on scene to kill any straggling humans before the scare company in question can send a cleanup crew. And since heâs a Slasher on their scene, they have to give him emergency pay for doing it. Itâs a total ambulance-chaser, bottom-feeder move.
Dad was just staring at his plate, not saying anything, but I could tell he was ashamed of Steve. Steve was bragging about being a vulture in the profession Dad helped build.
I asked Steve if he was proud of himself for living off of leftovers. Steve blew up at me, but so did Mom. She chided me for not respecting my brotherâs hard work and that his idea to get a scanner was genius, not predatory.
After that dinner, Steve and I rarely talked. Most of the news I got about him came from our older brother bitching about Steve badgering him for scare connections or Mom bragging about Steve killing and âmeeting quota.â She would get very cold with me when I told her he was finishing a quota someone else started and not doing his own work. She told me if I couldnât respect Steve, then I was welcome to not come over while he lived with her.
(Yes, Steveâs always been the golden child.)
I stopped interfering with Steve and focused on my own life. Shortly after, I met my wonderful fiancĂŠ âReginaldâ while catering an event at Dadâs old company. Reginald is the head of sanitation and heâs the one who gets sent out to clean up any unexpected events during a Scare (like any magical residue or body parts that canât be explained away through human means). He used to want to be a Cryptid, but heâs got a heart condition that prevents him from working in the field. He says that heâs happy being the âjanitorâ and happier being with me đ
Reginald and I got engaged after only eight months of dating. Dad always says that when you know, you know. I invited everyone in my family to an engagement party. Steve didnât bother answering the invitation. Even though Steve and I werenât on good terms, I was still hurt when he didnât show.
When I confronted him about it afterwards, he said that heâd been promoted to Regional Nightmare and he was patrolling his territory, and thatâs why he couldnât come. I asked him what company he was working for, and he said he was still using the scanner.
I pointed out that he couldnât be a Regional Nightmare without a state license since only the state can assign territories. He started going on and on about being his own âMonsterâ (and let me tell you, extra joints DOESNâT make you a Monster, those guys are way more committed) and that he had passed the state exam.
When I told Reginald about my brother calling himself a Regional Nightmare, he was concerned. He works closely with the legal department, and he said that Steve is opening himself up to lawsuits by declaring public slashing grounds as his âterritory.â He offered to talk to Steve.
We went over to Mom and Dadâs house together to confront him. Dad didnât know he was calling himself a Regional Nightmare and he went pale when I told them why we were there. Reginald explained to Steve and Mom that being certified was different than being licensed. Legally, Steve is a Slasher even if he can control shadows now (which is a VERY expensive talent to acquire if you arenât born with it. I think Mom may have paid for it).
The conversation didnât go well. Steve said a lot of nasty things about Reginald not hacking it as Slasher and claimed he was just jealous. He picked on Reginaldâs health which I had me seeing red. I asked Steve what there was to be jealous of since he still mooches off of our parents? Mom got involved and it went downhill from there.
All this to say that I didnât expect Steve to show up at my gender reveal party less than 5 months later.
Reginald and I werenât planning on kids this early, but we knew it was meant to be as soon as I got that pregnancy test back. We decided to put off our wedding so that our baby can be part of the ceremony that makes us a family. That being said, I did still have a lot of things ordered for the wedding so I turned the day into a baby shower/gender reveal instead.
That brings us to the party my lovely brother wrote about. First of all, he wasnât invited by me. Mom invited him, and when I found out, I wasnât happy with her, considering he never apologized to Reginald after our last fight.
Reginald was stuck at work (some idiot brought together a whole summer camp of final girls and the aftermath was brutal) so I had to force myself to be a good hostess. It was mostly fine. We have good friends and my older brother was very kind in helping me with some of the baby games we were planning to play when Reginald finally got there.
Steve, however, was NOT helpful.
He was annoying the whole time. He messed with the kitchen and he hounded the guests. Iâm PREGNANT and the smell of raw meat triggers my gag reflex. He took the meat off the heat without me noticing and basically prevented me from eating lunch with everyone else.
Additionally, Steve claimed in his post that the party was dying??? Reginald and Dad have a lot of friends in common so the party did NOT die. They were all interested in talking to Dad. Dadâs voice is very quiet and raspy from strain over the years, so everyone was being quiet to hear him better. Steve was the one practically screaming over him to talk about his scummy job. The new Hook Man who succeeded Dad was there and Steve basically treated the poor man like a novice even though heâs a Cryptid.
Reginald finally got home and I could tell he was exhausted when I met him at the door. He still put on a smile for me though and said he didnât need to miss out even when I told him it would be okay. He wanted to be there in our big moment to celebrate our family. He went upstairs to change.
I went back to the guests to tell them that we would start the games soon. Thatâs when I heard Reginald scream and fall down the stairs.
Iâll never forget the look on Reginaldâs face. He was lying at the base of the stairs and looked like he was dying. He was gasping for breath and clutching at his chest. I was terrified his heart was giving up. I asked Hook Man to call an ambulance.
Thatâs when Steve started laughing.
I lost it. I screamed at Steve to get out. He told me to calm down, heâd just scared Reginald a little bit as a joke. I told him he knew about Reginaldâs heart condition and that it was incredibly disrespectful to scare my fiancĂŠ in our own house.
He said he didnât mean to scare him that bad, but that he was just better at it than he thought. His scares were too powerful. He seemed smug and was still laughing.
I accused him of intentionally hurting Reginald because of the licensing versus certification argument we had. I said he was a bully and an idiot.
Mom jumped in and said it was an accident.
Dad FINALLY said something. He shadow-walked (the first time in YEARS) up the stairs and hooked Steve by the neck. He dragged all twelve feet of him down the stairs and told him to get out.
Steve said, âFor what? Itâs not my fault that weak-hearted son of a bitch canât take a joke.â
Dad lost it. He told Steve a REAL scarer wouldnât use their abilities like that on their own families. He told Mom and Steve it didnât matter if he meant it as a joke. The fact is he used his scare tactics on a layperson, and he could get blacklisted from the profession for it.
Dad kicked Steve out and told him he wasnât welcome back into the basement until he got a REAL job. Steve kept arguing, but the paramedics arrived then and I lost track of the rest of it.
I went with Reginald to the hospital where Reginald insisted we both get checked out. The stress wasnât good for the baby and doctor told me it might be best to go on maternity leave sooner rather than later. Reginald is also going to be taking a leave from work. He had a heart attack because of my brother.
Things could have ended worse, but they didnât end well. I told my parents that I refuse to have Steve at my wedding or even to see my child after theyâre born (and now I STILL donât know the gender! Only our older brother knows since he got the gender reveal cake).
Mom started to protest, but Dad said he understood. He said that both he and Mom just wanted me to be happy and healthy and that they would take care of Steve.
So now I leave it up to you. Having read both of our posts, who do you think is the real asshole? My brother for being âproudâ of scaring my fiancĂŠ into a heart attack at our babyâs gender reveal party? Or me for never talking to said brother again for the health of my future family?
AITA?
----
Thanks for reading! If you'd like to support me and/or see these stories a week before I post them here, please check me out on Patreon (X)!
See you next week!
This week's story is based on this (x) prompt from Writing-prompt-s:
You are a person who covers your counter space in clutter and inadvertently makes a shrine to a long forgotten god who shows up to thank you.
you might answer this ask already, but what exactly does a nest look like? I have been imaging nests look like one of those birds nests
I never actually made a post about what nests look like. Lol. Surprisingly no one has ever directly asked me. The only way that they are the same to bird nests are them using their own scent and objects for the nest itself. Like birds use their feathers and spit, I think, so dynamics will use their clothes and their scents for the nest.Â
So like I canât draw for shit, so the pictures attached are basically what you get.Â
Here are some links that I found on fellow blogs about nests:Â
@omegaverse-professor posted this little montage herself of a bunch of nesting materials. You can find that here. Side note this is the post that lead to our friendship. đ
@omegacraving made a post you can find hereÂ
@dyeingdollâ also drew something about what I think a nest could look like. Basically a fort. Thatâs here.Â
Here are a bunch of my own headcanons about nests/nesting that you can look through. đđ˝
Click read more to see some photos I found that I think nests would look like:Â
Iâve had some comments and questions asking how I study Japanese with the Genki textbook. I thought Iâd break it down in writing, and try to explain my method.
â¤ď¸1. I think you were an accident. To this day im not sure if my crush on you was genuine or if it was proximity combined with pressure from our parents. Either way im glad i grew out of it
â¤ď¸2. You were a mistake. I got lucky that you were never really interested in me other than to vent about your other "conquests"
â¤ď¸3. You were cool. Sometimes i wornder what would have happened if we had taken a chance, but i think you're with your soulmate now. I hope you two are happy and thriving
â¤ď¸4. You were... a complicated experience. At the time, you made me feel safe, and i gave you a lot of my firsts that probably should have gone to other people. Somehow you managed to be a significant presence in all of my relationships, but you also paved the way for me to have the friends i do now. Sometimes i wonder if you would have had the hold on me you did if i had met others like you way earlier
â¤ď¸5. Honestly, you got shafted, and i apologize for that. I met you at a time where i still had feelings for someone else, and you never gave me time to get to know you well. I dont think you ever had my full attention, and you didn't deserve that, but i was also not going to be your savior. You needed a better family, not a lover. I wish you had figured that out before you went down your current path. It's going to end you if you're not careful and no one will be able to help
â¤ď¸6. You were and are a walking red flag. How you haven't been blacklisted from the public is beyond me. Maybe you have, i try not to think about you anymore. I wish you would go away completely
7â¤ď¸ i think you were the real catalyst to me discovering myself. I wish we could have had more sleepovers. I didn't get to have enough time with you. Sometimes i still get the itch to hug you like before when i see you. I hope you're doing well where you are
8â¤ď¸ i kind of wish we hadn't tried to date. I would have happily kept my feelings to myself to keep my friend for a little while longer. I dont think there was any way we could have ended things on good terms and it sucked to lose you like that.
9â¤ď¸ I wish we had started off as friends. When i met you wli wasnt fully healed enough to give you the love you deserved, even if i thought i was. I wish i could talk to you again, maybe start over, but i wouldn't even know what to say now.
10â¤ď¸ I'm putting you here first because i need you to know that you are similar, but not the same. I really do like you for you, but i don't think we would have been able to make it work. There would always be a political undercurrent to our relationship, and i would not have had the patience necessary to make sure we were on the same page every time. I want us to stay friends, or... go back to being friends, and i know in order to do that i have to push through my insecurities to bridge that gap. I don't know if im ready yet, but i hope i get the burst of manic energy necessary to do it soon.
11â¤ď¸You might be the hardest to write for. I want to talk to you, but im scared to do so because i have too much to say, and at the same time, the words die in my head every time i try to write them out. I want to talk to you, but I'm terrified of being annoying, and currently the only way to talk to you is to be constanly aware that you may not want to talk to me back, which means i have to be sure that im not trying to talk to you at a time you dont want to talk to me, so its easier to keep my thoughts to myself. I miss being around you while you're being creative, i want to hand out with you again, but right now, i feel like the risk is greater than the reward. Maybe in a few more weeks, i might be willing to risk it, but the thought of trying to talk to you now has become daunting. I dont know how to fix it without potentially making things work. At least now im at a point where i won't cry myself to sleep at night if you reject me.
I hope we all find a job that makes us happy. I hope we go home to our new place with our favorite pets and cook our favorite food and we look up and find ourselves truly enjoying life
Ok I know I bailed for a little after the purge, but I forgot this was a place that I could write my thoughts out. Our thoughts are wasted on twitter but also that's where the Pr0n is now. We need a new safe nsfw platform that's not a clusterfuck
Rotten Holiday @rottenholiday - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
