you’re doomed, then.

Do a shot of vinegar. Works every time.

One at the white house, one at the sun.

NPD and BPD are both driven by an eternal sucking void of insecurity and negative self-esteem that can never be filled.

Narcissists try to fill it with praise and social status, or failing that, power and subjugation.

Borderlines try to fill it with limerence and victimhood or failing that, revenge.

But it can’t ever be filled - it’s worse than addiction, worse than being underwater in some shitty MLM scheme. It takes and takes and takes because fuck you, pay me.

So they don’t have friends or loved ones, they have hosts. They suck out all the goodness until there’s nothing left to give, then they start in on the pain.

Assholes, in the other hand, are just driven by simple greed, callousness and lack of consideration. They can and do still hurt people of course, but it’s not an all-consuming obsessive need.

I use bullet points; they probably learned it from me. Sorry.

It was from another username that I don’t hugely want to link to here, sorry. It only had a handful of votes iirc.

I have a bash quote about me.

… or did. bash is gone now.

Always assume your data is in N-1 places at all times.

Any drive can and will fail at any time, no matter how well it was working yesterday.

I’ve had people in with their entire PhD and years of research on one single drive, with no backup - just gone.

If your data is only in one place, it will be in zero places soon enough.

Disposable or replaceable data - which honestly is going to be 90% of your stuff - meh.

But anything that you need and couldn’t replace, that shit needs backing up to AT LEAST one other place.

As for the rest - drives can fail slowly, or they can fail fast. When they fail slowly, you start getting a couple of disk errors here and there, and you may just be able to order one in time to replace it.

When they fail fast, they just drop like a heart attack.

There’s no way to know in advance. If your data is safe, then you’ll either be out a few days while a replacement arrives, or you’ll be just about able to copy stuff across. At that age, I wouldn’t trust it farther than I could spit it. It could work fine for years more, but the moment you rely on it for something important, it’ll give out on you.

It isn’t fun.

Yeah, all the stereotypes of the wacky ADHD guy squirrel lol, but it’s not like that on the inside.

We are lost in the goddamn fog, chasing phantoms and mirages that disappear when you look at them too long. We are constantly running to catch up and flailing for context. What looks capricious and funny is mostly just desperation. We aren’t bursting with unlimited energy, it’s as exhausting as it looks. Taking five attempts to actually get a task done because you just forget halfway through. Forgetting where you put the thing, every time. Feeling your working memory slip away like waking from a dream. Fucking up all the time, then having to work twice as hard to fix it, and feeling like shit because you can’t get anything right.

It gets old, man.

I upvote things I like, and I downvote people being twats.

I also downvote people whining about downvotes.

No.

All these tasty nutritious facts are great, but they’re doomed without a robust immune system.

They need to know how there’s a drunkard’s walk or one-way tropism for wealth and power to accumulate in the hands of the few, how the noblest intents get degraded and corrupted over time, how rich people get to make the rules and thereby get even richer, giving them even more control over the rules.

How this is what killed our civilisation in the first place, and how it will kill theirs if they let it. How you need to water the roots, not the leaves, unless you want the whole tree to collapse.

What rent-seeking looks like, how tribalism works, how propaganda and psyops and PR campaigns work, what narcissists and sociopaths are like, what abusive relationships look like (since they use the same tactics), how to spot demagogues, grifters and think-of-the-children paternalism. How internecine conflict is encouraged and used to distract from actual oppression. How the church maintained a vast grip on power for millennia just by manipulating shame, fear and self-righteousness.

How you can (and should!) make a bunch of rules to slow or mitigate this, but cancer finds a way; it will worm its way past your defenses in time. And when it does, you can’t fix it from within the system, pretty much by definition, because it subverts the law and the entire social contract to protect and serve itself.

How the only fix is to step outside the law, step outside the system and root it out the hard way, from the top down. You can’t put a formal trigger condition on this, as the failure mode will game its way round it: just say that when you need it, you’ll know.

deleted by creator

If you must kill the one to save the many, then ceterus paribus, you kill the one. It’s shit, it’s always shit, but it’s less-shit than not doing it.

And you never, ever pretend that it was actively good. It’s not a vector sum. You’ve still killed someone, the score isn’t +9, it’s (+10, -1), and those are not the same thing. You bear the blood on your hands forever, you accept the mantle of killer and you do it anyway. That’s a shit deal, but life throws you shit deals. If you ever try to paint yourself the hero for it, you’re a killer and a fucking coward.

Kid going for a nuclear bomb trigger disguised as a teddy bear, you’re 250 meters away and only have a sniper rifle: sorry honey, :bang:

You may have saved the city, but you still killed a kid, and you’re supposed to feel shit about that. And if you don’t, something is very very wrong with you.

But ceterus is rarely paribus, is the problem. Couching the problem in this particular formulation robs the problem of its purity, and now you’re tying in externalities like what happens to your society when you put the force of law behind decisions like this - and whether there are knock-on effects that skew the balance.

What you’ve got here is a hostage situation with extra steps. They’re ill-defined hostages with no specific identity or location, which prevents you from just sending in a SWAT team, and that gives you a clear choice: capitulate with their demands, or sacrifice the hostages outright.

For an individual to capitulate is likely the better choice, as they aren’t likely to be in this situation again, and a one-off less-worse situation beats the alternative.

But for an institution like the justice system to capitulate is pretty much guaranteed to be the worse choice, as they’re going to be involved in the great majority of hostage situations going forward, and a reputation for capitulating will invite many, many more such cases. That anticipated harm can easily be expected to far outweigh the harm of sacrificing one set of hostages, and so the only reasonable choice, shit though it is, is to be a hardass about them and sacrifice them.

Objecting to the details of the problems is spectactularly missing the point.

You may as well object to a physics problem on the grounds that the accompanying diagram doesn’t show a real rocketship, just a drawing of one. I mean sure, but that’s not even remotely relevant to the question at hand. The illustration is just a mental aid to let you relate to the problem in a more hands-one manner, nothing more.

By what principles do we determine that benefit to one may outweigh harm to another? What are the factors that must be taken into consideration? Do the principles you name generalise as well as you assume, or are there counter-cases that would evoke a different moral intuition despite being entirely analogous?

It’s easy to come up with neat, elegant statements couched in purely abstract terms, but the entire point of the exercise is to build a predictive model of your emotional response - and you test that by considering actual scenarios.

Trying to kobyashi-maru your way around the scenario doesn’t achieve anything, and just makes it harder to test the thing you were trying to.

Not your inner monologue, they mean your actual physical spoken voice, as heard from inside your head.

May I suggest that you don’t get a job in IT?

• Two separate close calls with paedophiles as a kid. Yes, out alone, I’m genX.
• Fell asleep at the beach once with the waves splashing back and forth over my legs, woke up to find out the tide had come in and I’d been carried out in a rip. Well, fuck.
• Crossed the road while talking on the phone, and a bus zoomed past doing 50, three inches past my nose - real final-destination stuff. If I’d stepped out even half a second earlier, I’d have been a long greasy stain on the asphalt.
• Lying on the grass reading my book; my then-7yo son sprinted up to me with a chunk of concrete as big as my head, and bounced it off the grass right next to my ear. I’m sure it was just a coordination failure, but damn.
• Trying to extract an electrical cord plugged in really awkwardly behind a desk, stretched out on the floor with my arm snaked into the gap, only fingertips able to reach. Got it halfway out, caught myself really trying to wrap my fingers around the pins to get some leverage. Very calmly and carefully extracted my hand, sat up, and went to pieces for a bit.
• Visting my uncle on a tiny flyspeck of an island in the English Channel. Went to check out the pine forest there, spent a while tromping through the blanket of pine needles, lots of fun. Hit a really steep hill, the others took the stairs cut into the hillside, I decided to run down the slope. The hill got a lot steeper than I expected, my feet were barely even keeping up as I hurtled downwards… and through a gap in the trees, I saw I was heading to a cliff edge, with jagged rocks and crawling sea far below. Absolutely no chance of stopping in time, my turning circle was bigger than the remaining distance… only one thing for it. Stuck my arms out wide, veered as hard as I could, and just barely managed to catch a pine tree. Those things are not cuddly; I ended up with full-body carpet elbow, and hurt like hell for the rest of the trip. Beats being seagull food, though.

But if you want stupid ways I’ve hurt myself that weren’t actually life-threatening…

• Walking along the top of a maze (made of treated pine poles) as a teenager; fell off and just clipped an eyebrow on the corner of a pole; another inch and I’d have lost an eye at the very least. I still have a lump on the bone on the corner of my eye socket.
• As a 10yo, moving house and packing stuff into storage; I was carrying a metal pole-on-feet (part of a dressmaker’s dummy), so naturally I hefted it like a trident and chased my dad with it. Down a long corridor lined with doorways, at the storage facility. One of the feet caught a doorway, the pole stopped dead, I kept going and smashed my teeth into the end of the pole, breaking three of them.
• Pulling a big saucepan out of the cupboard under the stove, while cooking. The kitchen construction was terrible; the galvanized-iron base of the stove was jammed into a splintery hole in the chipboard counter, making a nasty, jagged narrowing gap. I got my hand caught and obviously badly cut so I carefully pushed up and backwards as I slid my hand out, to avoid ripping hell out of it by jerking it free. Except that no, I’d just brushed my hand against the hot part of the stove, and proceeded to burn it much, much worse by squeezing up against it and dragging slowly backwards.
• Doing the dusting when I was 12, stupidely squirted glass cleaner right onto an (incandescent) light bulb, which promptly shattered. I was very responsible, unplugged the lamp, picked up the glass, vacuumed the floor to get any splinters, then proceeded to attempt to removed the jagged stump of the lightbulb, barehanded. Still got a doozy of a scar.
• When I was a toddler, swinging on the garden gate. Held on too close to the hinge end, mashed the end of my pinky to absolute hamburger. They just kind of tacked it together and wrapped it up, best they could do - amazingly, I only have two hairline scars from it, and the fingerprint even lines up.
• Went jogging on slightly damp concrete, tripped and dislocated my ankle (mildly distressing injury pic)
• In my early 30s, playing ‘boo’ with a friend’s toddler, leaping out of hiding places and snarling hideously. Best game, toddlers love it. Leapt through a doorway that was about a foot lower than I expected, in a concrete wall. Skull made a noise skulls shouldn’t ever make, I made a very impressive scream indeed. Toddler was highly entertained, I was out of commission for the rest of the day.
• Taking my then-4yo son to the aquarium, he was almost-but-not-quite too big to carry on my shoulders. Two-stage lift, hoik up to chest height, then hnnngh up to shoulders. Easy. Except that when he was at chest height, his heels were exactly at ball-height, and after swinging him up for the first-stage lift… yeah. The thing about it, though, was that I did the same damn thing TWICE that day, and if you think getting kicked in the balls hurts, wait until you get kicked in already sore and swollen balls. Mother of god.
• Speaking of which, be 14, playing impromptu game of pingpong on a picnic table, with a tennis ball and the flat of our hands as paddles. I have a lazy eye, and no 3d vision, and so missed about 20 return in a row. Being 14 and in the throes of puberty, I proceeded to absolutely fucking lose my shit. At the tennis ball. Decide on the spot to teach the fucking thing a fucking lesson it would never fucking forget. Leap into the air anime style, fucking SLAM the ball down in a serve directly to the god damn moon. As mentioned, I have a lazy eye and no 3d vision, so instead of hitting the tabletop, the ball hit the leading edge of the table. It got me right in the nuts, with all the force a truly enraged 14yo could muster, and my sister stood over me laughing her head off as I lay there curled up in agony.
• And then of course there was my wedding night. We checked into the hotel, went for a walk around the city, then went for a swim in the hotel pool. I was showing off a little bit, swooshing around underwater around my wife like a seal, y’know how it is. Swum down a bit too deep, and stubbed my nose on the bottom of the pool. Fucking meow. Yanked the tip down so hard the skin tore right across the bridge. Blood absolutely fucking everywhere. Got back up to the room, rang room service for bandaids. Same bellhop arrived as checked us into the honeymoon suite, sees us both in towels, me looking like a slasher movie, and my wife on the floor heaving with laughter. He pretty much threw the bandaids at me and fled. I think we traumatised him for life, it was awesome :D

Probably about 5-10 minutes most of the time.

Your brain chatters to itself all the time, so if you stfu with the inner monologue and instead just try to eavesdrop on what’s going on in the background, that leads pretty much directly into a dream state.

I mean, it’s slavery.