bluewing

joined 2 years ago
[–] [email protected] 13 points 1 week ago (2 children)

No. When there were large bunches of refuges trying to escape from camps from the middle east, Canada refused entry to any any male 16 years or older for asylum. Women and small children were okish, but males were right fucked and flat refused. And I think that's still on the books yet today.

Canada, for all the "feel good" they have from others in the world, has as much history of cruelty to outsiders as any other western nation. And don't look to closely into why the Geneva Convention exists today either. They just hide it better.

[–] [email protected] 13 points 1 week ago (1 children)

Get a good tan and I'm sure they will find time for you.

[–] [email protected] 2 points 1 week ago

I grew up a poor farm boy, so we never had a VCR when I was a kid. And they really weren't a thing anyway when I was young. And according to my Father, us kids were the remote!

Did you ever peer into the back of the TV when a tube would burn out and your Dad would pull the cabinet out, then remove the back and try to see which tube didn't light up when the set was powered up? It was a marvelous sight! It often took us a few days before we would get to town before we could stop into the local drug store that had a tube tester and had a selection of the common tubes to buy.

[–] [email protected] 2 points 1 week ago (2 children)

That's what I love about mine. Automatic lid raise and lower as you walk in, heated ring and water, (both adjustable temp), air dry, (again heated), and charcoal filtered air filtration to minimize the stench from that drive through burrito.

It's the posh life. Very nearly the equal to having your own chamberlain.

[–] [email protected] 6 points 1 week ago

You need to use the power washer setting. Takes the paint right off the wall.....

[–] [email protected] 2 points 1 week ago (2 children)

I was thinking of even older things.

The feel of the keys and staccato sounds of a mechanical typewriter.

The sound of a wringer/washer machine

The muffled sound of my am band 9 transistor pocket radio "hiding" under my pillow late at night for as long as the 9V battery would last (I loved the Mystery Radio Theater show that started at 10pm)

The soft crackling sound of a tube black and white TV as all the tubes warmed up. (And the time it took to do so)

The sound and smell of the percolator coffee pot in the morning

The sound of a wooden screen slamming shut

The smell and sound of a mimeograph machine printing copies in the school/church office (And the slight buzz you could get from copy fluid-- Petroleum aromatics Yum!)

Doing my math homework with a slide rule.

The smell of a fresh fired paper hull shotgun shell on a cold crisp late fall morning

And so much more that no longer exists.

[–] [email protected] 13 points 1 week ago (4 children)

A perfect zero. I have done all of those things and more that the creator of that list can't even imagine. Things that were everyday common but have faded beyond memory, (and aren't missed at all).

[–] [email protected] 1 points 1 week ago

Nah, Tarballs are delicious!

Compiling is only needed to solve dependencies when you get caught in rpm hell.

[–] [email protected] 7 points 1 week ago

And if you insist on being unattractive, then have you tried being rich?

[–] [email protected] 2 points 2 weeks ago

Yep. When buying a product, it ain't about the packaging, color of the paint, or the sticker/badge hung on it. It's all about the service when things go sideways. And at some point something will go wrong, it always does. That's when you learn just how good or bad a company is.

[–] [email protected] 36 points 2 weeks ago (9 children)

As a boomer, reading this thread/discussion has been so amusing in many ways while enjoying my cuppa tea this morning. A classic "the younger generations are stupid."

The older generations looking down the ones that follow. And the following generations looking down on those that precede them. And no one understanding ain't none of us are all that bright.

Ever has it been, and so ever shall it be.

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