age++;

No one remembered my birthday, so I gifted myself the dark theme!!

Old story, and yeah, it's all true, I shit you not!

So here I am at about age 11 (more or less). At the time, I had an almost brand new 333MHz beast, with 8 MB RAM, 2 (!!!) MB video card and (I think) about 300 MB of storage (yeah, I'm old :)) ).

Connected to this monster was sitting a 14" CRT monitor, mechanical keyboard and a 2 button, ball "powered" mouse.

There was no optical tracking tech at the time.

One evening, I notice my mouse starts lagging. Test it to see if Win95 is stuck. Nope, just mouse problems...

Fiddle with it a little, and at some point it stops working at all.

My room was dark now, so I got up to turn on the lights, sat down in front of the PC, and moved the mouse by instinct.

Surprise! It's working again!

My brother comes in and turnes off the lights. Mouse non responsive.

I tell him to turn them on again, mouse works again.

At this point, we were both scratching our heads at this mystery...

I decided to confirm it again using a desc light.

Conclusion: my 2 button, ball tracking, non light sensitive mouse was working only if light was shining directly oh it AND on my 14" crt monitor at the same time!!!

To this day I have no ideea why.

I kept them both for posterity, and they are still there in my parent's attic.

Fin.

In my unenlightened youth, when programming was a module in my college diploma that didn't seem to be taking me where I wanted to go, I had a couple of guys guy in my class that could arguably be the weird ones.

Jonny, although he asserted that he was to be called "Jonhty", whatever, we never did. He was pretty much top of the high school food chain and for some reason elected to study computer science, none of us was prepared to put up with his shit. He was always boasting about some fanciful claim or another, famously entering the classroom and exclaiming he'd "fucked an absolute milf" and seemed somewhat evasive about the answer, turns out he was 17 and she was 35, the age difference was greater than his own age. We burst out laughing. He would also turn up late and state the college bus was late (it wasn't I got the free bus every day, he'd just not got out his wanking chariot early enough).

One valentine's day we got him a card from a mysterious stranger which was accompanied by a package containing a cucumber and Vaseline, the inside of the card read "to assist you in the following request: please go fuck yourself".

Before you think we were being unduly harsh, we had a centre table where we'd be taught from with computers around the outer rim of the room. He'd come up behind people while at the centre desk, quietly press ctrl+P and slowly walk back to the printer. I saw him do it to my machine and I got to the printer first, to which he shouted "that's MY work" which was amusing because unbeknownst to him I had put headers on all my documents so he really didn't have an answer for why my name was at the top of every page.

To top it all off he had dead eyes, there didn't appear to be much going on but the rent, there was no spark of intelligent life, and while I thought it, I never said it out loud, but other students did and I had to agree. He was just copying his way to graduation. However, he ultimately didn't graduate when people refused to allow him to copy.

Another guy, Richard I believe his name was, which is just as well because he was a right dick. In the UK our word for white trash is "chav" (that's a very naïve explanation for it but that's another rant best left for "socialsciencerant") and he was an complete idiot who was gifted with more brain cells than he ever needed to use. He actually studied hard and got reasonable grades, probably on par with me, but he boasted about smoking weed all the time, he was forever playing dark side of the moon via his loud mp3 player. I kinda left him alone generally until he was high in class one time and while we we're watching a documentary he'd shake my chair and make a weird noise in my ear every few minutes, the first couple of times startled me, the remaining multi-dozen times pissed me off.

It all came to a head with this guy when I'd been hearing about his uninteresting bs on drugs, music and how best to spend my time ("you need to lighten up man, come round my house, take a joint and relax man", that sorta thing), well this guy walked like he was mid way through shitting himself so I personally think that perhaps he is too chilled. Anyway he's arguing with me and after the exchange of him making his point, me disagreeing and expecting the end of it, he made the mistake of saying two words to me:

"Listen, mate..."

And I had him in check mate.

"Listen, I ain't your fucking mate , I don't even like you, you're a disruptive annoying twat that thinks he knows it all, we're all 17, none of us know anything, so shut the fuck up, sit the fuck down and stop boring me with your drugs, I ain't interested, and for the record I think pink Floyd ruined prog rock!"

He looked at me with sad puppy dog eyes, and started with the "but, why?", However I was interrupted and had to leave the class for unrelated reasons, I returned to be told he'd put safety pins up right on my chair so I'd sit on them, and mutual friends who TD me I'd been cruel and that he doesn't was hurt, so I should apologize, he overheard and said he was sorry for bring a bit of a dick.

However, you just know when you don't get on with someone? Yeah, that. So I said I wasn't sorry for what I said, for while it was harsh, I am not his mate, nor did I want to be his mate and that was all I had to say on the subject, and that if he wants to take offensive to a nobody not liking him then he's in for a very rough time in life.

Unsurprisingly I don't keep in touch with anyone from college!

If ever there was something like dark ages, then we are living it: which programmer still knows what his statement does through the whole software stack down to the CPU (and could also account for what a modern CPU does with all its cores, caches, pipelines and -1, -2, -3 rings). Piled higher and deeper. I know nothing. So it's like being a cargo cult sorcerer, conjuring copy&pasted spells from SO to invoke Bjarne's, Linus' or whomevers forlorn spirit, so this shit won't break.

This is amazing!

Got some case of heavy eye floaters which can be either a symptom of age or intoxication.

Mine is the latter and I tried to detox with Chlorella algae. Threw in 6 capsules at noon and now it looks like they are nearly gone.

I double checked with an about:blank page, because by looking at bright and even textures I see them all (hence a dark theme is absolutely necessary).

This 2018 order students 👨‍🎓 👩‍🎓 lab. From painting walls, logistics, etc to statistic per user usage. Last admin in 2 years in a dark-age. Like these wood for students Id computer assignments. Hate it.

Automatization please.

Question: How was you registration Computer lab? Recommend

!dev

Vampire homegirl and I got into bit of a pickle last time we went out marauding around the City of the Dead. We collected payment for a hit on a merchant, but a large portion of the money was discounted, as unbeknown to us, there was a witness to our bloody crime.

Soon enough, we were being hunted down by a rival sect, encroaching on our territory. Their High Priest sent some dogs our way, and we felt right into their ambush, at a crossroads within the southern alleways. I took down three of those sons of bitches, with two crossbow bolts stuck on my back, before finally being knocked down by a shield slammed to my face.

Got both my fucking legs mauled with a flail and almost put out of commission. Luckily, my vampiric companion was there to save my skin. She fought a desperate duel against the last one of our foes left standing: an inquisitor, sent to either capture, or more likely, kill us both.

This fucker was tougher than any adversary either of us had ever fought against. Fully clad in silver armor, wearing an enchanted crimson cloak, her face hidden behind a terrifying iron mask. My companion stood her ground, but throughout the fight, she was constantly on the defensive, hesitant to close too much distance against the enemy.

Our foe launched one devilishly mighty blow, that my partner in crime fortunately managed to block. However, her blade was pulverized by the sheer weight of the inquisitor's strike, nearly shattering her ribcage. In a last ditch effort to survive the encounter, she lunged at her opponent with what remained of her sword, and stabbed the hunter right in her fucking eye, to then sink her fangs into the ecclesiastical bitch's neck.

Having temporarily incapacitated the inquisitor, we made our escape. My companion carried me back to our safehouse, where we would plan our next move... but our masters were one step ahead of us.

At our hideout, we were intercepted by them, at the behest of the Matriarch. We were to be smuggled out of the city inside a funeral carriage, to then be safely transported back to our sacred order's sanctuary.

Uppon arriving, we were confronted and reprimanded for our failures, past and present. I was forcefully separated from my esteemed nocturnal friend, as way our masters put it, our growing affections were cause for concern. Longing to be reunited, we schemed for weeks through our mutual acquaintances in the monastery, delivering small coded messages.

Through our cunning subterfuge, we finally managed to meet in an ancient grotto underneath a cedrus tree, on a hill overlooking the sanctuary. I was ready to plan a daring escape, but to my suprise, she had her mind made up to a wildly different course of action. We were to play by their rules -- go through with their dark cleansing rituals, meant to re-educate us before admitting us back into the order as fully-fledged acolytes.

And so, in the penumbra of that age-old grotto, a pact was made.

I am now riding south on a black stallion, falchion in hand, and a trail of witches' blood in my wake. I carry with me orders from the Matriarch herself: purify the nearby catacombs and prove my devotion to the utter blackness of our faith. Should I not return, my companion will be up next.

Failure is not an option. As I evade the twisted creatures that guard the entrance, and descend the staircase down into the tomb, I wonder what kind of horrors await me inside...

OH GOD FUCKING SHIT I JUST STEPPED ON A TRAP

** TO BE CONTINUED **

If we are able to use our cars for 20 years, shouldn't smartphones and web browsers be the same way?

Even though it is better to update software, old versions should not be excluded because otherwise a digital dark age comes closer.