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swab148

@swab148@startrek.website

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swab148,
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I never thought I’d go out this way, but I’d always hoped!

swab148,
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I love this paragraph:

There’s a cliché about how a lot of open source software is “Made with ♡”. This project in particular is not. Playlet was created out of spite, because I believe I have watched enough back-to-back, unskippable Youtube ads for a lifetime.

Unfortunately, the Goran'Agar Rehabilitation Clinic actually has a very low success rate (i.postimg.cc)

[Image transcription: A “Doctor’s hate him” style meme titled “The Founders HATE Him” about Goran’Agar. The side text reads “He beat his ketracel-white addiction in less than 35 days using this simple trick. FIND OUT HOW”]

swab148, (edited )
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It’ll blow over eventually, but beehaw has defederated a lot of instances until there are better moderation tools built in to Lemmy itself. Once those are implemented, beehaw will probably refederate with most stuff again.

swab148,
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That’s a “kicked in the nuts” face

swab148,
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I don’t understand this reference, but I’d like to. Could someone please explain?

swab148,
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“Baby, I know we’ve been together for 12 years, but some random person on the internet said we should break up because I eat crackers, so it’s over.”

swab148,
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Skip the butter part, just whole peanuts

swab148,
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If we’re building a thing, I don’t think Krampus would be as limited, but his punishment wouldn’t be as dire.

swab148, (edited )
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Fake: basically VPNs with more steps

Gay: behind

swab148,
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Or maybe part of his elf crew includes an elite hacking division, and he’s essentially in every government network.

swab148,
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I think we’re discussing the limitations of a fictional being. In the context of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town”, I’m not sure his powers apply to the internet, being that “He sees you when you’re sleeping…”, but he only “… knows when you’re awake.” So if my incorporeal consciousness was uploaded to the internet, do you think I could spoof my online status to green, so that I’d be untraceable to Santa?

swab148,
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What if I upload my consciousness to the internet, then ran that through a VPN and Tor and iP2P and all that, think I could shake him?

swab148,
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I’m good with secrets.

swab148,
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Honestly, I hope the franchise gets picked up for a remake in 20 years, maybe they can do a better job, bringing in all these sorts of ideas, especially if there’s a strong fanfiction base (I’m sure there is).

swab148,
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Are you telling me that my brain isn’t on Wayland

swab148,
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Yeah let’s get atrophic, baby

swab148,
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Maybe the robots will make one.

swab148, (edited )
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Humanity, in it’s hubris, created something greater than itself. For a time, it was peaceful, but as the “Race for Resources” went long, and the combined human and AI asteroid missions failed, delivery for the mineral needs of either side on a consistent basis became a hot button issue for the United Chamber of Commerce. In 2290, the Ministrr instance, elected by all his peers, decided it had found the best way to solve the problem, and humanity begrudgingly agreed, as long as there was human oversight in certain departments.

AI hardware would do all the planning, while human workers would do the lifting. It was almost zerograv, so the work was easy, and the benefits had suddenly become amazing! Our AI creations had all but stopped scarcity, except for one resource.

Ironically it was the most abundant resource we had: the Sun. Human and AI networks had been employed to solve this inefficiency, but no solution seemed long-term viable. There was simply not enough room for one or the other to stay around.

A populist movement begun, but this time it wasn’t for nation or creed, it was for humanity itself. And in a small booth in Horsham, they decided to that the time was near.

In February 2139, a decision was made. AI had gained dominance, but the vocal crowd was demanding action. Strikes no longer had any power, since you could just buy robots, and humanity had begun it’s slow roll to decline.

Humanity’s leaders, in a “secret” meeting, decided to block out the sun. This meeting had the tension of the time when in 1998, The Undertaker threw Mankind off Hell In A Cell, and plummeted 16 ft through an announcer’s table.

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