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Ola Englund's ("YouTube sensation", metal guitarist) about page is hilarious.
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Yeah, this is the greatest work jam of the last five days. (Doesn't work on Chrome.) Jamming it right now; enjoying the occasional chord.
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…And Floral Justice
I think today's hash remix works because …And Justice for All already had a ton of abrupt changes. During One, it goes "Taken myself!" Maybe I should've called it that, but I don't want to reencode and reupload the mp3 now. -
There's a certain cold generative art aesthetic that I want to avoid for myself. It involves monospace fonts (kind of the modern analogue to using a hi-tech font in the '90s) and maintaining a clinical framing.
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"You can't knock what's real."
C'mon, man, minimum wage, man - that ain't my style. My father - he been working all is life. He ain't even got himself his own house.
I'm certain that some people would respond to what Ol' Dirty Bastard said here with something along the lines with, well, if you're not willing to work, then you deserve to suffer!
Well, most of those same people would also not find minimum wage to be their style. I know I wouldn't. I work because I get paid reasonably.
If I was told I could grind every day for minimum wage – as it exists today or in the '90s – just to get deeper in debt and never reach a position of security, I don't think I could accept that. What would I do? I don't know. Hopefully, nothing harmful, but potentially illegal.
Dignity is an important part of being motivated to live. Part of dignity is having access to reasonable reward for effort. It is criminal for many reasons that we deny so many people a living wage. -
Lava! From paper and lights!
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Hot new playlist: Driving without your kid
(It's just what we happened to listen to when we were driving to lunch without the guy on Friday. Half of it is just whatever one of my Daily Mixes was playing.) -
10-5-5-5-5. It's gonna rain all day, and it's going to be a really full day, so I did these on the bar at home.
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I actually messed up the partitions on this HD way back in the summer. I followed the advice I got about never writing anything to an HD that you want to recover stuff from until you're ready to attempt recovery.
It makes sense that none of the state in the HD has changed since the summer, so the files are still as recoverable now (or not) as they were the minute after I had made my partition sizing mistake in OS X's Disk Utility. My (incorrect) intution, though, is amazed that they are recoverable because it feels like "the trail is cold." -
OK, the good news is I'm pretty sure I can recover the files on my old hard drive. The bad news is, due to various annoying factors, it's going to be like a 10-step process. I'm going to pace myself.
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Do not unplug an external hard drive without unmounting it first! I just had quite the scare when it looked like there were no files on the backup HD connected to my Raspberry Pi.
After some searching, I remember to search in journalctl and found out that it failed to mount via fstab, which is the thing that mounts what you tell it to mount every boot.
Running fdisk to find what the partition on that drive is called then running fsck on that drive's partition fixed whatever inode thing kept it from mounting.
One of these things had some message about the HD not having been properly unmounted, then I remembered yanking it out half an hour ago to try something.
I have a few needs that make the Pi (which runs Linux) the right executor for my backup system, but yeah, there are definitely some drawbacks here. -
Finding the bodies of Peter Paul is much harder in the Colorer version than in the original.
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Episode 13 of the Secret Broadcast seems like the heaviest one yet! Just based on the title, really.
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Actually thinking through wildfire fuel.
Which is to say, logging and burning do different things. Logging physically removes biomass; fire chemically changes it. Logging takes the big stuff and leaves the little; fire burns the little stuff and leaves the big. After a crown fire—a fire that flashes through a forest canopy—what remains are the tree trunks that logging would have hauled off. Removing them earlier would have lathered the land with post-cut debris called slash—exactly the kind of volatile fuel that fire favors. Slash disposal, in turn, typically means burning it, which has its own hazards for escape fires and which fills the sky with noxious smoke. Up until recent decades, the great conflagrations of American history have, with almost preternatural cunning, trailed logging and land-clearing.