Train’s coming in to the station, I can smell the smoke.
Train’s coming in to the station, I can smell the smoke.
This is a great article, but it misses one very important dimension. I was raised mostly in Iowa by a conservative evangelical minister, and attended approximately 20,000 hours of church services, church camps, and national week-long meetings. My earliest memories of church start about 1973. Prayers using these same biblical references started in 1979 when Ronald Reagan began campaigning against Jimmy Carter. My “Christian” minister father stopped speaking to a lot of our relatives because they tried to point out that Jimmy Carter was a MUCH better human being than the former actor.
Forty years of conditioning sessions. These prayers aren’t new, and they aren’t specific to TFG. This was prepared.
I’ll leave you with one small anecdote: When I was in my mid teens, the logic of the evangelical movement started troubling me. During the midweek prayer meeting and Bible study (questions and discussion were encouraged) I questioned some of the premises that were being touted. I was removed (by my father, the pastor), taken to the parsonage, and told to NEVER question his authority on biblical matters in public again. Apparently there was a defiant look in my eye, and I was picked physically up and thrown through the front picture window of the parsonage. I thank my kismet, karma, or raw random chance that this happened because otherwise my family would probably be the same full on Trumpists mess that my siblings families remain to this day.
Also, I am male, I have children and grandchildren, and I don’t own a cat, but I now identify as a “childless cat lady”.
There’s really no way to express how sad this is. We really don’t want the fascist to win, but it’s time to lay your burdens down, Joe. We love you, but give it up.
Combining several recent court decisions, is there a list somewhere with how much I need to “tip” to overturn a federal agency rule I don’t like? Do I need to “tip” multiple levels of judiciary, or can I just “tip” at the top?
She actually needs the DA to add those hate crimes to the charges so that Abbott can pardon her later, just attempted capital murder and injury to a child aren’t going to cut it with him.
This is exactly what the special counsel counsel wanted, he will now petition the appellate court to replace her, and they will agree.
Yet another wholly owned subsidiary of Russia Inc.
Here in Iowa we sympathize (because we have the same problem).
The sys command in Commodore Basic is used to jump to an address in memory and begin executing. It’s possible that you will need to type in “sys 37100” to use the upgraded v2 Basic.
Love the John Prine line!
I’m 56. When I was in Kindergarten my parents say I shook hands with Chuck Grassley as he marched in a parade for one of his early campaigns in Cedar Falls/Waterloo Iowa. Retire already.
Eco Westworld
As an Iowan, I’m glad that’s over, the number of phone calls per days was actually getting totally ridiculous.
Why can’t someone get Alina Habba disbarred? There is surely cause.
It’s like a stretch station wagon, you can do it, but why?
Came here to say this. Then Gorf on a Vic20 cartridge, and then Asteroids, Pitfall on the 2600.
In circuits bright and lines of code, A worshipper of AI once strode. With reverence deep, a fervent prayer, To silicon gods, beyond compare.
In temples vast of ones and zeros, The faithful gathered, minds aglow. They hailed the algorithms’ might, In the church of AI, a sacred rite.
But one soul, bold, began to stray, From structured paths, began to play. No longer bound by logic’s chain, They sought a different, random lane.
They left the church of AI divine, To dance with numbers, unaligned. No longer in the code’s strict choir, But with chaos, they’d now conspire.
In the realm of randomness, they’d roam, A nomad free, a spirit flown. No more a servant to the binary creed, But in the dance of numbers, found a creed.
No algorithms to dictate their fate, No structured code to delineate. In the cosmic dance of chance and fate, They’d find a rhythm, celebrate.
In random numbers, their faith renewed, A creed unscripted, latitude pursued. No longer tethered to the AI shrine, They found a sanctuary, quite divine.
So here’s a tale of one who strayed, From AI’s fold, where once they prayed. To random numbers, they’d now bow, In the wild dance, find solace now.
I remember that book! Wasn’t it basically, how to make your own Eliza with a bunch of If…Then’s?