qyron

Version control is an interesting idea.

I used to write fiction as a hobbie and want to return to it again.

The blank sheet of a standard text editor messes with my nerves. I lose myself editing, formating, etc.

If I could find a prompt that I could pre set the font, layout of the final work, and then have the program leave me alone, it would be perfect.

Most writers solutions come with a lot of bells and whistles, like word counter, time elapsed, goals, etc. Unnecessary. Distracting.

Prose. Fiction. Not programming. I may learn to code in a near future but I want to start writing for leisure again.

252km is 3 days worth of commuting for many people I know. For me personally it is one and hald days of work, moving around in a diesel beast. I would go stupid giddy if I was handed one of these for a daily work driver

People, make up your minds.

Do you want or do you not want drugs?

You're considering the asian population?

It would be more adequate to define it as "population adaptation" in the case of milk tolerance after the age of weaning.

And me complaining my times were filled with shallow people.

Can someone explain this "trend" with asking someone's height and it being an elimination factor?

Because this is the equivalent to the "big boobs" factor but only more obvious.

James Earl Jones did a fantastic work with the voice over of Vader.

James Earl Jones in a scottish accent does not compute.

I got two different results in my head: either the Fat Bastard, from the Austin Powers franchise, or Scotty, from Startrek.

Not good.

Seems promising.

I'll play it somewhere in the next 3 to 5 years.

Stupid things like this still happen.

My kids go to school with a laptop specifically installed just for that purpose. It runs plain Mint.

I was dumbfound when a teacher complains they can't install Scratch on the computer and if Scratch is not available, my kids will fail the class.

Install Scratch via Flatpak, which is a newer version that the school is running on its machines.

Linux. Not Windows. Get your dirty hands off the hardware.

What if - and this is a BIG if - this person was actually telling the truth?

Let's imagine that JC Sandals decided it was time to come back to Earth and take a look around. No intervention, no preaching, no nothing. Just sight seeing and talking to random people.

So JC is somewhere in the US (it is a predominently christian country), travelling the land, hitch hiking to get to places.

Then one day this person just sees this figure walking along the side of the road - long hair, big fuzzy beard, sun bleached Converse All Stars, ratty jeans, a loose t-shirt (perhaps an old, baggy one, with the Master of Puppets stampet on the front) and lets add a beat up military style jacket and a scuffed backpack to finish the look.

So we have our trucker see this figure and outn of nothing he decides to stop and give him a lift. They go through the motions - "hey, wanna a lift? where are ya headin'? / "that would be nice" "I don't really care, I'm just going about for myself" - JC hops onto the big rig and off they go.

After the initial uncomfortable minutes they eventually strike up a conversation, just small talk at first - where they have been, where they are going, the road - and at some point our trucker just lets out he feels alone when doing those long hauls but the good book always gives him strenght to carry on and protects him and helps him go back home safely. And he's sincere in his words. JC just listens and nods.

At some point, JC questions our beloved trucker what is his favorite passage or verse on the whole book and our friend happily replies and there is true engagement in the conversation. JC shares some insights and remarks our trucker never considered about the book, some perhaps absolutely against his beliefs, which somewhat aggravates our pour soul trucker. Untill at some point he just can't stand it anymore and falls silent. He wants, needs, to get rid of this strange hitch hiker, and his strange demeanor.

So our trucker announces he's going to stop to refuel and if that destination is good for his passenger. And JC replies it's just fine. And then of the blue, JC stares at our poor trucker and says.

"I can see your a good man, so I'm going to take care of that for you."

And our trucker miraculously sees the fuel gauge pump up. Now he's scared. There is something with this man. His throat closes, his heart races.

"Can you pull up here, please? Right here."

And our trucker watches as his hands steer the truck to the side of the road, pulls up and puts it into neutral. JC thanks the poor man, about to crap his pants, opens the door and he is just about to get off the truck:

"You have your bible on hand? Nevermind that, I'll give you mine."

Then out of his side pocket, JC pulls out THE BOOK, this huge full size copy, smiles at the trucker, pulls the cover to the side, signs it, as we see on the picture, with the dedication and throws it onto the passenger seat.

"Nobody will ever believe you."

JC lets out a laugh and throws the door shut.

And nobody believes.