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Joined 1 year ago
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Cake day: July 3rd, 2024

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  • All of those kinds of communities, where people tell anecdotes about their lives, turned into creative writing excerises for wannabe authors long before we had to worry about AI slop. TIFU, AmITheAsshole, RelationshipAdvice, etc. were all getting pretty derivative and sensational for clicks long before the exodus. Now they’re all either that or illiterate attention seekers showing off the results of their latest LLM prompts. I liked those stories too, but I don’t want anything to do with any of those communities anymore. It all just turned into a training ground for LLMs generating engagement. YouTube still tries to force those dumb AI story voiceover videos to me constantly. We used to joke that “nothing ever happens”, but everyday that sentiment feels a little less cynical and a little more real.


  • Pineapple pizza really is kinda meh by itself. But, pineapple + jalapeno + a salty/savory topping like pepperoni can be amazing.

    Semi-tangential non-sequitor: The news algorithms offered up the recipe for an “Italian treat” recently that had me appalled and curious in the same way I expect pineapple pizza haters are. It was very ripe cantaloupe slices wrapped in prosciutto. I don’t even really know what to say. I just don’t want to be alone in knowing about that monstrosity.


  • What’s wrong with tuna salad? Potato salad? Macaroni salad? Coleslaw (a kind of cabbage salad)? Mayo isn’t really all that different than many other salad dressings either. Also, pretty much any decent deli sandwich is basically a salad with meat and cheese dressed in mayo between two slices of bread.

    You’re missing out.


  • Wolf314159@startrek.websitetomemes@lemmy.worldMuscle memory
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    4 days ago

    Bicycles (and electric scooters) are vehicles that should also be following the same rules as car, i.e. not driving the wrong way down a one way street and not bombing down the sidewalk. I mean, I still look both ways, but that’s because people are dumb maniacs on the road, not because bicycles.





  • Reminds me of a sci-fi story I read. A detective (wait was this in Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, maybe? I don’t remember, anyway) is looking for a person and asking around. I stead of carrying around a picture of the person they are looking for, they compare the person’s features to a list of celebrities and just go around asking if anyone has seen someone that looks like that celebrity. Point being lots of people have surprisingly similar features and there really are “doppelgangers” out there.

    But just try explaining that to some stranger that just caught you staring off into space directly at their face because they look like a person you had a crush on in college, only you’re an old fart now and they don’t look like that old crush would look now, but like the memory you have of them. “You look like someone I know” always sounds like a pickup line.



  • Focusing at a point behind the image is exactly what we’ve always done for every other magic eye poster because it only requires relaxing your eyes (staring off into the distance) for the image to pop into focus. Cross eyed viewing is damn near impossible on any screen at less than an arm’s length away without significant eye strain or external devices (like the stereoscopic viewers that photogrammetrists would use to view these kinds of images without inducing a migraine) and since the dot is on top holding a finger up as a guide ends up obstructing the entire view unless your arms are growing out of your forehead. The wall eyed view has none of these issues.

    I appreciate the post and your effort. But, the images themselves are frustrating and have killed my initial reaction, which was to share them further. Because I’m nearly the only person I know that wouldn’t loose interest in the explanation for “correct viewing” half way through. If they were wall eyed stereoscopic images, I could just say “Magic Eye”, they’d remember Mallrats, see the schooner, and go “Ooh neat.”







  • I’ve felt that. In my story, I’m an adult out on a date. I order a molcajete dish from the local Mexican restaurant. I’ve had this dish before at a few places. I know it’s usually spicy. I want this. I have a vague memory of the waitress confirming I was okay with a spicy dish. I enthusiastically confirm.

    I had never encountered this level of spicy before. Those other molcajete dishes I’d had were milquetoast. This was flavortown gone nuclear. My entire head turned red apparently. The sweat started on my forehead, then my neck, and eventually my entire head was running like a sock over a faucet. I hadn’t encountered real heat like this before. I was in experienced, so I didn’t know that drinking my beer between bites was only making the heat worse. The waitress kept bringing them though. At one point I could hear people laughing together in the kitchen. It was a quiet restaurant, we may have been the only ones there at this point.

    I was not bowed or broken. I ate the whole damn thing. It was otherwise also a delicious dish and now that I had broken through into the fire dimension I was tasting flavors I didn’t even have words for. These flavors were here the whole time but I couldn’t experience them until I had set my mouth on fire. I eventually won the day, or so I thought until the next day when dinner had it’s revenge on the way out.

    Jalapenos don’t get the respect they deserve. Sure they don’t have the face melting power of some other peppers. But they taste fucking great in ways the other peppers can’t match. They are also sneaky. I’ve had jalapeno with little to no heat, almost like a better tasting green bell pepper. And I’ve had jalapeno that were face melty sweet awesomeness. The secret I eventually learned was to seek the peppers with those little brown stretch marks. More stretch marks mean more fire.




  • The best part is the random bill.

    • Go to the doctor. Get blood drawn.
    • Doctor send the blood to a lab for the test. Doesn’t tell me who. I don’t care who. It’s their subcontractor, let them worry about it. *Go back to the doctor or get a call for results. Pay the doctor the standard co-pay. *Months later a random company sends me a bill. This is a company that I have never interacted with or entered into any contract with, for work that somebody else (presumably my doctor, but who the fuck knows for sure) asked them to do for them, sending the results to that other person and NOT to me.

    The system is broken. If any other company subcontracted a part of their work to a third party, you as the client would reasonably expect that work to be paid through the original contract, not get a bill directly from the subcontractor. I didn’t hire them, the doctor hired them. As far as I’m concerned, that’s the doctor’s subcontractor and their debt, not mine. I paid the doctor already.

    Or another variant.

    • Go to the emergency room.
    • Get separate bills FOR THE SAME SERVICE from the hospital, the doctor, and somehow the hospital again but this time it’s the emergency room (which is somehow separate with a different billing company).

    The system is not just broken. It is designed to fleece us and train us to always accept whatever debt the institutions decide to levy on us without question.