We kind of expected that he would at least put up a tiny bit of resistance before betraying his own coutry and decades old allies, if nothing else then just for show. I mean, we didn’t even have to bring the kompromat up.

russia probably

There are other janitor jobs out there, I’m sure.

Appropriate username.

It runs on some sort of electricity.

I stepped on my hamster which not only ruined Christmas but led to my parents eventually breaking up. It wasn’t a deliberate stepping, of course. Nibbles, bless his tiny, furry heart, had a habit of darting underfoot, a furry landmine in the living room. This year, he chose the precise moment Aunt Carol was launching into her annual monologue about her “special” sauce – a concoction that looked suspiciously like regurgitated beets – to stage his daring escape. My foot connected with his minuscule form with a sickening crunch, a sound that echoed through the suddenly silent room, louder than any Christmas carol.

Aunt Carol, mid-sentence, froze, her face a mask of horrified fascination. Nibbles, sadly, was no more. A tiny, crimson stain bloomed on the Persian rug, resembling nothing so much as a particularly abstract Christmas ornament. My mother, a woman whose love for small, furry creatures bordered on the obsessive, let out a wail that could shatter glass. My dad, ever the pragmatist, muttered something about “collateral damage” and reached for the brandy. The air, thick with the scent of pine needles and impending doom, crackled with unspoken accusations. It was a Christmas tableau worthy of a Hieronymus Bosch painting.

In the ensuing chaos, as people scrambled to salvage what remained of the Christmas dinner, Dad, still clutching a corner of the tablecloth, lost his balance. He stumbled, tripped over my outstretched leg (I swear, it was an accident!), and fell. And, in a move that defied all logic and physics, he somehow managed to grab my leg on the way down.

The last thing I saw before the world dissolved into a blur of pain and panicked shouts was my father, sprawled on the floor amidst the wreckage of Christmas dinner, holding my leg like a prized Christmas roast. “Gotcha!” he yelled triumphantly, while pulling my leg. Just like I’m pulling your leg now.

idspispopd

Jack Black, playing a witty loser that doesn’t even understand why they picked him for the team (but I guess I already said Jack Black). The inevitable failure, followed by him leaving the team, the depression montage and then the eventual comeuppance where he rescues everyone set to AC/DC’s Thunderstruck.

I use Ansible to deploy a bunch of containers with intradependencies (shared volumes, networks and settings). One of the containers is homemade with the source pulled from codeberg. Variables are kept in a separate file and passwords in an encrypted one and the whole thing is in a private repo. It is quite flexible.

When I started out converting from compose, I literally asked Copilot for “this, but in Ansible”, which got me pretty far.

They keep raising the prices but what arr you gonna do?

Duck yeah!

Full penetration.

You don’t have to hold your breath during the underwater stuff. It’s not a video game.

❤️

Would love to play one of the Overcooked games (or both) with the wife.

Quentin Tarantino liked it. John Waters liked it.

I respect the opinion of those two legendary film makers over any amount of loud mouth social media shitstorm enablers who got their knickers twisted because the movie didn’t conform to their idea of a sequel.

It is a good movie. And I’m tired of pretending it’s not.

How can there be more possible sanctions? Do all the sanctions now ffs!

Futurama warned us about this!

Maybe you can find inspiration in The Book of Wondrous Inventions.

“A 45 year old not wearing a costume and strung out on Ketamine” OR a kid in the greatest costume ever?

Talkin’ 'bout Sergeant Bone Spurs?