Butterfly

There seems to be something of a theme developing here..

And that theme is mostly 'You can't actually post audio to Faceache because I don't know, PHP or something.'

Anyway, back in the old days when we all used this thing, which were back in the old days before 2020 where it is day 234 in the month of 'Oh god what now', we used to have a running joke about 'everyone loves to hear a posh bird swearing.'

So:

A posh bird, swearing.

What I actually think about this is content fit for a F/O post, but it's a trip isn't it?

Words, so you can sing along: https://hirez.livejournal.com/437720.html

Butterfly

Poetry coroner.

Actual poetry, not an actual coroner.

A thing that is hard work is pitching one's voice up into a femme, or at least androgynous range, so you are less likely to scare the horses or indeed be subject to long silences and/or intrusive questions when speaking on the telephone.

At the moment I'm sort-of there when I think about it. However, it's far too simple to drop into aspie-drone when banging on about bloody interfaces or bloody VMs or bloody yaml. Also it is snotty-throat season, which really does make a person want to give up and carry a set of signs that read 'Yes', 'No', 'One sugar, thanks!', and 'Oh do fuck off and shove yr tervery up yr arse.'

Also the clever fucks who say things like 'A new voice? And when will we hear that?'

Yeah. Thanks. I'll just crawl under this raised floor and die shall I?

Anyway. You've been subject to selfies. Now here's a MP3 via a complex route because FB is shit.

(Which is freaking me out just a little, which is only moderately daft because I had a day of speaking in public at Bristolcon.)
My name is legion

The Russians are running the DHSS.

(https://standupandspit.wordpress.com/2015/01/03/attila-the-stockbroker-the-autobiography-2-the-spencers-croft-cat/)


RUSSIANS IN THE DHSS

It first was a rumour dismissed as a lie
But then came the evidence none could deny:
A double page spread in the Sunday Express –
The Russians are running the DHSS!


It's probably because I was younger and hadn't fully understood the intersections of geopolitics, monopoly capital and the military-entertainment complex, but things seemed simpler then. The various Enemies of the State, Enemies Within and Without, Red Menaces and Terrorists who were not to be given the Oxygen of Publicity were far away and from places we knew very little about. Berlin, Bradford and Belfast, mostly.

Perhaps that's why PRNK is so popular with the old people who think they run things right now. It's like Nike or IBM - a brand they understand with a solid concept among ABC1s and iconography with outstanding name-recognition which can be upsold to the Twitterati and their 'four legs good, two legs amusing animal picture' communication style.

Which is a long way round to 'I've abandoned LJ for reasons that are mostly political but partly ennui. I don't know how long the current post-frenzy will last, but you're welcome to follow along on DW. This has all lasted an amazingly long time in internet years.'

I should probably have set up crossposting for this one. It came out better than I expected.
Butterfly

The bladders of a thousand skinny puppy fans

Viewing Severed Heads on the industrial floor of Slimelight was... Actually entirely appropriate. So was bumping into lovely people while on the way out and then comprehensively missing any likely bus because of jabbering about, er, stuff.

The setlist is probably elsewhere on the internet already, but 'Goodbye tonsils' at volume = kidney-wobbling was surprisingly hallucinogenic. In that like all older Sevs tracks, it is at least two tunes fighting for supremacy, which in the privacy and comfort of yr own nocturnal fondlings you can intellectualise away like it was complicated jazz.

However, in a scrotty club when you've been on the ale and the smoke-machine and then packed into a seething mass of people worrying if they're going to get home in time for the babysitter...

Fuck it, they were really good and played a pile of Clifford hits.

Meanwhile, the Wikipeejah page for City Slab Horror is a delight and I salute 124.170.134.29 for an entirely appropriate version of events:


The album was reviewed by reviewers. Andy Hurt of Sounds magazine wrote that it is "one of the most accomplished, complete works in recent years" and gave the record 4 and 3 quarter and one fifth and a tiny bit more stars out of five. One reviewer pontificated that "with [City Slab Horror], "the Heads" have cemented their place at the forefront of the electronic experimentalists".[5] He was obviously a tosser so most people took no notice of him and as expected Severed Heads has been relegated to the position of something that is only cited by anoraks and one or 2 commercial bands who have members claiming to be influenced by Skinny Puppy.


Christ, but Skinny Puppy were shite. But then alt.gothic was filled with people American students alleging that the most cock-awful rackets were dead Goth and everything. Boyd fucking Rice for instance. No. Just no. Or 'NON', perhaps. I kind of went along with it at the time because there was no useful way of checking w/o sodding off down to Resurrection and paying the splendid Andy and/or Katrina to find out.
Challenger

HHOS (i)

On the way home, I heave to in a queue of traffic handy for Warmley, where there used to be a brickworks next to where there used to be a railway line. Now there is a park and a bike path, but the station survives as a caff. There is a furious revving and a screech of what should have been tyres, but which smelled to me more like fried clutch. I look for the BMW or JDM something-or-other with a shopping list down the front wing, but there is nothing but a two-stroke Transit (judging by the smoke) and a... Ka?

Posting here seems to be about either computers or cars. That is because I am a middle-class English bloke, and I don't have feelings. I have well-meant mansplaining about the best way to get to Yeovil.
Humppa!

Well imagine my surprise. (i)

I have a horrible feeling that if you found all my posts where I'd gone off on one about the awfulness of computers, you'd also find companion pieces that mostly read 'S'alright. Fixed it.' that arrived a couple of days later.

Is that good? It's probably good.

Solutions:
i) Use ISC Kea for DHCP(4|6) server(s).
ii) Use dhcpcd5 for the client.
iii) Write a sed(1) one-liner that runs as the last thing in yr preseed script and comments out any 'iface eth' lines in /etc/network/interfaces.

Well, I say 'write'. I mean 'find on the internet like everyone else.'