Crimea was an inside job!

But, you see, Biden was somehow maybe going to genocide or something despite not being on the ballot.

Appropriate username.

It runs on some sort of electricity.

I stepped on my hamster which not only ruined Christmas but led to my parents eventually breaking up. It wasn’t a deliberate stepping, of course. Nibbles, bless his tiny, furry heart, had a habit of darting underfoot, a furry landmine in the living room. This year, he chose the precise moment Aunt Carol was launching into her annual monologue about her “special” sauce – a concoction that looked suspiciously like regurgitated beets – to stage his daring escape. My foot connected with his minuscule form with a sickening crunch, a sound that echoed through the suddenly silent room, louder than any Christmas carol.

Aunt Carol, mid-sentence, froze, her face a mask of horrified fascination. Nibbles, sadly, was no more. A tiny, crimson stain bloomed on the Persian rug, resembling nothing so much as a particularly abstract Christmas ornament. My mother, a woman whose love for small, furry creatures bordered on the obsessive, let out a wail that could shatter glass. My dad, ever the pragmatist, muttered something about “collateral damage” and reached for the brandy. The air, thick with the scent of pine needles and impending doom, crackled with unspoken accusations. It was a Christmas tableau worthy of a Hieronymus Bosch painting.

In the ensuing chaos, as people scrambled to salvage what remained of the Christmas dinner, Dad, still clutching a corner of the tablecloth, lost his balance. He stumbled, tripped over my outstretched leg (I swear, it was an accident!), and fell. And, in a move that defied all logic and physics, he somehow managed to grab my leg on the way down.

The last thing I saw before the world dissolved into a blur of pain and panicked shouts was my father, sprawled on the floor amidst the wreckage of Christmas dinner, holding my leg like a prized Christmas roast. “Gotcha!” he yelled triumphantly, while pulling my leg. Just like I’m pulling your leg now.

idspispopd

You

nazis.

Well, you are, but not as cynical as ticketmaster who might have done exactly that.

The Wolfenstein franchise comes pretty close.

Certainly true for the US.

trump can’t even point to SA on a map.

Don’t expect too much of the americans.

I use Ansible to deploy a bunch of containers with intradependencies (shared volumes, networks and settings). One of the containers is homemade with the source pulled from codeberg. Variables are kept in a separate file and passwords in an encrypted one and the whole thing is in a private repo. It is quite flexible.

When I started out converting from compose, I literally asked Copilot for “this, but in Ansible”, which got me pretty far.

They keep raising the prices but what arr you gonna do?

Anders Vistisen is a moron and belongs to one of the most populistic Danish parties and he normally does not speak for Denmark in general.

He’s right about this though. Orange shit stain can fuck right off.

And his mother was a tailor.

Anything involving crypto is an invitation to scammers.

Sow chaos. It’s what russia does.

You don’t have to hold your breath during the underwater stuff. It’s not a video game.

history | grep whatever is quite useful when you just barely remember a command or the files you used it on.