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sambelacqua✅ @sambelacqua@social.tchncs.de

if violence isn't the answer, you're asking the wrong question

@milan Just threw some dollars your way over at patreon.com/tchncs so you can keep up the great work on the server here! :grinning:

Love to be a part of this and support its growt and development. :nerd:

YouTube won’t put ads on videos from channels with fewer than 10K views

arstechnica.com/business/2017/

YouTube has come up with a new restriction on who can make advertising money off of the online video platform. starting today it will not serve ads on videos produced by channels with fewer than 10k views.

i saw a coworker wearing a Digg hoodie the other day and it reminded me that it really is possible for a site to totally screw itself up and cause the entire community to migrate to a competitor overnight (for digg, it was reddit)

And truly it little matters what I say, this or that or any other thing. Saying is inventing. Wrong, very rightly wrong. You invent nothing, you think you are inventing, you think you are escaping, and all you do is stammer out your lesson, the remnants of a pensum one day got by heart and long forgotten, life without tears, as it is wept.

But he had turned, little by little, a disturbance into words, he had made a pillow of old words, for his head.

I remember little or nothing of these lectures. I cannot have understood a great deal. But I seem to have retained certain descriptions, in spite of myself. They gave me courses on love, on intelligence, most precious, most precious. They also taught me to count, and even to reason. Some of this rubbish has come in handy on occasions, I don’t deny it, on occasions which would never have arisen if they had left me in peace. I use it still, to scratch my arse with.

Memories are killing. So you must not think of certain things, of those that are dear to you, or rather you must think of them, for if you don’t there is the danger of finding them, in your mind, little by little.

It was morning and Belacqua was stuck in the first of the canti in the moon. He was so bogged that he could move neither backward nor forward. Blissful Beatrice was there, Dante also, and she explained the spots on the moon to him. She shewed him in the first place where he was at fault, then she put up her own explanation. She had it from God, therefore he could rely on its being accurate in every particular.

I'll give you just enough to keep you from dying. You'll be hungry all the time.

Thank you @Tyrron for the great idea.

To relieve pressure from Support on various instances, use #NeedHelp and everyone that has the capabilities to can help.

In the process of getting help only tag support when the questions doesn't seem to find a solution.

Thank you in advance.

Get up, go down to the road, rush me limping in his pursuit,

Call you from afar, nothing easier. My screams come to his eyes, he turns, me

waiting.

Panting, holding me on my crutches, I stand beside him, next to the dog. You inspire a little fear and a little compassion.

I mildly disgust him.

Your local feed is everyone also on your instance. Think of them as your next of kin.

Your federated feed is not everyone on every instance. It's everyone on your instance plus everyone they follow. It's all your sister's school friends and that weird uncle and the postman, but it's not that one guy called Gus somewhere thousands of miles away.

The events that occur as he dies are few in number but serious in purport: first, the old woman unexpectedly stops renewing his soup and emptying his pots, thus ensuring that he will die of inanition, next, his stick, with which he has been trying to manoeuvre his bed out of the room, slips from his grasp, leaving Mm. marooned in his bed; and lastly, he receives the visit of a mysterious stranger whom he takes at first to be the undertaker's man come too soon.

Then this third person, on whose existence
tbe existences of Ann and Mary depend, and whose
existence also in a sense if you like dcpends on the
existenccs of Ann and Mary, says to Mary, no, says to
Ann, for by this time Mary is afar. off, in the tram,
the bus, the train, the eab, the taxt, the bar parlour
or eanal, says to Ann, J ane

Mr Hackett decided, after some moments, that if
they were waiting for a tram they had been doing so for
some time. For the lady held the gentleman by the ears,
and the gentleman's hand was on the lady's thigh, and
the lady's tongue was in the gentleman's mouth. Tired
of waiting for the tram, said (1) Mr Hackett, they strike
up an acquaintance. The lady now removing her tongue
from the gentleman's mouth, he put his into hers. Fair
do, said Mr Hackett.

This time, then once more I think, then perhaps a last time, then I think it'll be over, with that world too.