I’ve delivered simple, clear and easy-to-use services for 20 years, for startups, scaleups and government. I write about the nerdy bits here.
— @joahua
I know I’ve made posts like this before, but it feels neccessary to keep doing so such that the strangeness of such occurences may continue to be acknowledged.
Picked up a page of scribbled notes, and mentally reached for Ctrl + F. I realised it wasn’t possible, but the reason I didn’t think it possible was because it was too messy for OCR. So… OCR is now being performed with searches on random physical objects. Weird geeks…
As if this server wasn’t pushing enough traffic per day already (this site is generally 100MB/day of what you’ll see on that graph, plus spider traffic), I finally got around to sitting down and fixing the broken stuff about the gallery here. Well, okay, Ben did most of the fixing. I changed some URI structures/added some rules so that old permalinks start working again. Anyway, point is, all the old stuff is working again now. Not that this probably affects many/any of you who read blog stuff, unless you’re feeling nostalgic. Shrug :)
I’m now of mixed mind as to where to upload more photos. Flickr is fun + makes editing metadata easily + I’ve paid for it for a year. But here is stable + I have complete control and… blah blah blah… it’s not owned by Yahoo! (yet ;-) err I mean… *cough*)
Ah well. Flickr API’s make it easy to pull data out quick + easily. So conceivably it’d be not too hard to write something to “export” to cat-scan. Maybe by this time next year…
I’ve got 8,480 images under this domain, according to Google Image Search. You’re limited to 50 pages of image matches I think (1000 images, 20 per page), but it’s still good to get an overall impression of the amount of graphical content on a domain. Mine is slightly biased because of year12.joahua.com. Without it, I’ve still got a rather-solid 3,760 images online (so, on/associated with this blog, basically).
I just used that word in an essay for the first time ever. Never mind its Module C HSC English relevancy, I never once used it there. It’s sitting in a philosophy essay and is so surrounded by other wanky words (I’m filling up space) that it appears perfectly at home. Lovely.
As Selo discovered, Krämer may have written in a manual for inquisitors RE: witchcraft, “What else is woman but a foe to friendship, an inescapable punishment, a necessary evil, a natural temptation, a desirable calamity, a domestic danger, a delectable detriment, an evil of nature, painted with fair colors!”, but 120 years later Shakespeare exceeded him (though, it must be said, in a work of comedy considered — perhaps — to be self-parodic in relation to his earlier works):
POSTHUMUS.
Is there no way for men to be, but women
Must be half-workers? We are all bastards,
And that most venerable man which I
Did call my father was I know not where
When I was stamp’d. Some coiner with his tools
Made me a counterfeit; yet my mother seem’d
The Dian of that time. So doth my wife
The nonpareil of this. O, vengeance, vengeance!
Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain’d,
And pray’d me oft forbearance; did it with
A pudency so rosy, the sweet view on’t
Might well have warm’d old Saturn; that I thought her
As chaste as unsunn’d snow. O, all the devils!
This yellow Iachimo in an hour- was’t not?
Or less!- at first? Perchance he spoke not, but,
Like a full-acorn’d boar, a German one,
Cried “O!’ and mounted; found no opposition
But what he look’d for should oppose and she
Should from encounter guard. Could I find out
The woman’s part in me! For there’s no motion
That tends to vice in man but I affirm
It is the woman’s part. Be it lying, note it,
The woman’s; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers;
Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges, hers;
Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain,
Nice longing, slanders, mutability,
All faults that man may name, nay, that hell knows,
Why, hers, in part or all; but rather all;
For even to vice
They are not constant, but are changing still
One vice but of a minute old for one
Not half so old as that. I’ll write against them,
Detest them, curse them. Yet ’tis greater skill
In a true hate to pray they have their will:
The very devils cannot plague them better. [Exit]
Cymbeline, Act II Scene V.