🐇 Dan what actually happened with your water heater?

I smile, and my teeth are too wet. My arm crosses your shoulders and you feel pinpricks as I squeeze you. I'm far too hot and you feel a fizzing sensation like champagne bubbles under your skin. I hiss and whisper corrosively into your ear and my breath smells like welding.

🦝 I'm using it as a dehumidifier

@ifixcoinops at some point in the last decade or two, half of my Tech Hobby friends changed from saying "look at this cool shit i did to my xbox, i use it to watch anime" to "i have my own deployment pipeline that configures a distributed containerization manifest server to push out the latest versions of my media pool to my load-balanced shard node cluster, i use it to watch anime"

Couple years time we're gonna be seeing 40-page guides on how to self-host MAME

See the thing with Home Assistant and all other selfhosted stuff is that it all kinda assumes from the getgo that the computers or devices that you touch every day are just a web browser sitting on top of an 8gb flash drive that someone gave you along with a branded tote bag and pencil. I'm going "I wanna send music or podcasts from my phone over bluetooth into this thing so it can squirt it out through a speaker" and the thing's all "You have music STORED on your PHONE?!"

So y'know how these days you can get these tiiiiny little speakers that actually sound alright if you don't mind them being very directional? Like teeny weeny tiny little ones that can fit in your pocket and somehow have plenty of bass provided your head's in just the right position?

They all work on bluetooth, yeah?

So there's three of us in the house, and I know that if I just have this bluetooth shower speaker pair to each of our phones then that's gonna be a pain in the arse because these things generally have a limit on how many input sources they can connect to before they start forgetting and need re-pairing, and it's usually a very low limit 'cause they've got the back of an envelope's worth of memory.

So I figure, hey, the computer that Home Assistant runs on has a bluetooth dongle and LOADS of memory, what if I connect the speaker to Home Assistant, and our phones (or in the case of the kid, MP3 player) to Home Assistant also, then I'm sure there'll be some kinda doofer in there what'll make it where we can press a button to tell Home Assistant to change what device counts as "In" while the bluetooth speaker in the bathroom stays as "out." And hell, there's even a thingy called Music Assistant that takes all the speakers in the house and gives you options to switch stuff between them.

Well.

I have JUST finished adding another pair of speakers for the kitchen from my spouse's 1970's amp. The wires go out the B side of the amp's output and up the wall and round a corner and across the ceiling and around the stairs and down and along the door frame and into the kitchen and up the wall and across the ceiling and then into a pair of old speakers sat on top of the kitchen cabinets and now my spouse can listen to records in both rooms at once or flip the switch to go between them.

That, was Easier, than what I want to overcomplicate with Home Assistant

Time for a Home Assistant thread update, I thought it'd be nice if we could listen to music in the shower.

C'mere. C'mere and sit down with me here, lemme tell ya something, I wanna tell you something. Lemme tell you this thing about Home Assistant,

By now this world is comfortingly boring to most people, but it's interesting to Alex and Tim. Hell, it's _exciting_ to Alex and Tim, because they're home. Home and not-home. Home and future home. They're _at The House!_

And they're doing _the big stretch._ Tim begins it a moment after he shifts into park - he doesn't cut the engine, there isn't an engine, it's a little bit into the future and you can do a big drive in a battery truck now, even with a heavy trailer. Anyway he begins this _huge_ stretch, arms above head, legs vibrating, satisfied "rrraauuughghh," and Alex is joining in with the stretch of a shorter body and a higher-pitched "Nrrrr" and he catches Tim's eye and now they're _competing_ at it, the Big Stretch has become a game, at first it was mere mimicry and then it became satire and then Tim had to up his game and now it's a contest to see who can contort and growl the most outrageously, and now it's communication and it's a joke and it's a sharing and they're both laughing and exhausted and silly and excited and Tim's hand shoots out to ruffle Alex's hair and they open the doors and there's that Thunderstorm Smell because the world is excited for them too.

Alex looks up at the house. Their house. His house! He _owns_ it, and all its intriguing problems. Three stories, plus basement, plus attic, enough living space for all eight of them forever and enough renovation work for the two of them for a good six months just to start with, and Alex is _pretty_ sure that the other six secretly know that six months is bare minimum, two years is livable, ten years is nice, and then you're finished when you're dead.

It's a pretty house. Or, it was pretty, and then everyone left and squished up together in the big cities, and it will be pretty because now everyone's spreading out again and the people are coming back to care for what was left behind. Largely because it's cheap - cheap enough that a bunch of softpaw lefty hippy types can club their email-job money together and straight-up buy a house _in cash_ and give tools and a budget to the two guys who actually work for a living, who'll spruce the place up enough that they can all move in together next spring or summer and we're not calling it a commune.

He's only seen pictures and video, flat on a screen even, he's never gotten a sense of _scale_ of the place, so let's get that out of the way first - it's fucking huge, next question. Is it like the photos? No, the photos were taken by a real estate agent during the golden hour of a perfect day, but even in the shadow of the approaching storm it's still _interesting_ to look at - there's brick and stone and wood siding and a turret and balconies and a mishmash of Stuff that's been just kinda thrown together into a sprawling asymmetrical Creaky Old House Out In The Country that defies expectations. That's marketing-talk, real-estate talk, "defying expectations," but here it's literally true because if you looked at the front of the house and someone asked you to guess what the back or sides looked like, you'd just shrug. It's that kind of a house.

And it's his.

"You got the keys?" asks Tim, and Alex looks at him with all the blood draining from his face because he does _not,_ and Tim lets him off the hook straight away and pulls the keys from his pocket and fingerguns Alex just _viciously_ and they laugh some more and Alex confirms that yes, Tim _was_ in fact waiting six hours to do that, the bastard. And then they laugh some more because Tim goes through all of the keys on the ring and none of the little butts are turning the lock on the big ornate front door and isn't this just a perfect way to start owning a house.

It gets less funny after a couple of minutes, but hey, spirits are still high, this is just another problem, right? They have tools. You have fewer problems when you have tools.

"Let's get that trailer under cover," says Tim, gesturing at the lean-to, which might've once been a stable or something, this house doesn't have an attached garage and the barn off to Alex's right is probably full of junk. "We might be digging through it in a minute, and I'd rather do it somewhere dry."

As he's descending the three wooden steps off the porch - _they have a porch now!_ - Tim looks off to his right, just as Alex hears the approach of Al's truck.

"It's Al again," says Tim, but the easy confidence of earlier is gone. This is weird, now. Alex watches, hair on the back of his neck prickling, as Al waves on his way past.

No, he doesn't wave on his way past - but maybe he slows down and rubbernecks and gets a real good look at them and where they live as he goes past.

Okay, so he's not doing that either - he's gonna slow _right_ down and shout howdy out the window.

He's stopped.

Why's he stopped?

"Why's he stopped," asks Alex, like Tim would know.

"I don't know," says Tim, and Al is getting out of his truck, and he's not all smiles and helpful and apologetic about having to stop them to fix a thing for safety's sake. Well, there's a _hint_ of apologetic about him as he walks over to them, and there it is more clearly in the way he says "Hey."

"Hey," says Tim.

"Hey," says Alex, so he's not left out.

"You change your mind about arresting me after all?" asks Tim, in a joking kinda way.

There's a brief and awkward pause in which nobody laughs.

"Kinda," says Al, finally. "You seen the news?"

Alex, blood warming up, takes a step forward. "Al, my man," he says in a voice that surprises him and holy shit what's he doing now and who's doing the talking here, is it Alex or is it the recent tools-in-hands and _big squeezy grip_ on those crimpers or is this just Testosterone Temper or is it this new impulsive Alex who does reckless things like take one step towards a guy okay so maybe that's not such a big deal after all calm down Alex - "you're gonna have to elaborate."

"Tim here's the boss," says Al, pulling out his phone. "Check it out." Al hands his phone not to the bewildered boss, but to the guy standing between them, who takes it, squints at the sortition results, and goes "Fuck."

"What? What!" cries Tim.

"You're the fucking _governor,_" moans Alex, showing Tim.

"Like _hell_ I am," growls Tim, taking the phone with gusto, scrolling with wide eyes.

"Are you gonna run?" asks Al, seriously. "We've got a few minutes to figure it out. But _just_ a few minutes, like, we don't have _long,_ here. Sorry."

"What do you mean," says Tim, eyes shooting up from his phone to Al, "am I gonna run?"

Al awkwardly spreads his hands, shrugs, "Well,"

"He means are you gonna try not to do it," interrupts Alex. "Like, are you gonna come quietly, or are you gonna make them chase you."

Tim looks from Alex back to Al. "I don't like this."

"You don't have to," says Al, "but you do have to figure out how we wanna play it. Drone'll be here soon, cops too. Actual cops I mean, not just mechanics who can pull you over."

"Guns?"

"No, _actual_ cops. What the hell, beat guys still carry pistols up in the city?"

"Yup." Tim rubs his hands down his face. "Options?"

"One," Al counts with his fingers, "you come along with us and run the state. Two, you run, the cops chase you and tackle you to the ground but, like, _fairly gently,_ y'know, 'cause you're technically their boss."

"And I come with you and run the state, _fuck._"

"Tim," says Alex, and Tim turns towards him and Alex suddenly doesn't know what he was going to say. It seemed like a moment where he should give Tim some kind of encouraging words, try to calm him down and get him on board with what's going on, but Alex can't figure out a way to tell Tim that he's the best man that Alex has ever met and there's nobody that Alex would trust more with a position of power.

"You're the best man I've ever met," says Alex quietly, "and there's nobody in the whole _world_ I'd rather trust with a position of power."

Tim lets that sentence lie on the floor between them a moment, and Al, sensibly, lets Tim speak first. "I don't want it."

"I know," acknowledges Alex. "And I don't want you to do it, I want you to help me fix this house." He inhales, because he realises he hasn't done that enough, and there's this thing going on in his stomach like he's swallowed some mercury on the way up an elevator. "But here we are."

This isn't right, Tim shouldn't be the one freaking out and Alex shouldn't be the one consoling him, this is all backwards. But, yeah. Here we are.

"People who can fix things," says Al, also quietly, "should fix things."

They let that one lie on the ground as well. They all kinda look at it for a sec.

It seemed profound for about two and a half seconds until Alex thinks _What an incredibly fucking obvious thing to say, Al._

"Give us a minute," says Tim.

"As long as I can," says Al. _Yeah Al, "People who can fix things should fix things," that's some fucking Lao Tzu shit right there, you're so deep. Wanker._ Alex walks with Tim back to the truck.

Tim starts unhooking the tarp. "So I'm gonna run," he says, casually.

"Run from governor," mutters Alex to himself.

"Huh?"

"Nothing."

"Okay," continues Tim, "I'm gonna let them think I'm coming quietly, and then I'm gonna run like hell off that way." He points towards the woods behind the house. "It's a perfect plan, the only problem with it is that it's not even _nearly_ gonna work and those guys are definitely gonna catch me."

Alex nods. "Solid except for that."

"Yeah," sighs Tim, pulling the corner of the tarp back, "I don't know the terrain, I'm not watching myself with a drone, and even if I _do_ manage to outrun them for a bit, they know where I live. But, y'know, pride."

"I get it."

"So, what else." Tim looks at what his hands are doing. "Why am I taking the tarp off. _You_ can do that, you're capable."

"Because you touch things when you're thinking," says Alex, and he's crying. Shit, when'd that happen. "You touch things when you're talking to me. You need chewing gum for your fingers so your mouth can work." He heaves and sniffles and tries to stop doing The Ugly Cry and also stop thinking of it as Ugly Crying because guys don't do that. "But there's nothing more to say except you have to run," he struggles, "because that's how people know they've got a good one, so now you're just doing, like, _hand stuff_ so you don't have to deal with mouth stuff 'cause the mouth's got nothing to do."

Tim gawps. "You don't have, like, last-minute questions about how the fuck to renovate a massive house?"

Alex's hands flap about uselessly. "Hundreds!"

"Top five?"

"Gentlemen," calls Al from over by his truck, "fair warning, I can see them coming."

_Is there fucking anyone you don't snitch on,_ is what Alex wants to yell, but he's got other shit to worry about, "What do I do about pinhole leaks in copper?"

Tim gives Alex a Look. It morphs into a nod. Alex begins to decode it as he walks slowly towards Al's truck.

"You'll wanna shut the water off at the main," _I see that you're panicking and need clear and complete instructions_ "open all the faucets so the water drains out of the whole house and the pipes up top can pull in air," _I understand why you asked this question now rather than just watching a video_ "you'll want new copper pipe and two slip couplings, they're little sections of tube just a little bit wider than the pipe," _I know how much you hate the plumbing aisle_ "cut out the bad section of pipe and clean up the ends real good until they're shiny, you'll find cutter and wire brush in my toolbox," _you can go in my toolbox, it's our toolbox now, take good care of it all_ "flux up all the joints with plumbing flux and an acid brush, inside the slip couplers too," _detail is important to us both_ "cut a new length of pipe same size as you just cut out, and you'll be able to wrestle it into place with the slip couplings on 'cause copper's pretty flexible," _I will pre-emptively reassure you and take care of the worries that I know you'll have because I know how you overthink everything and find problems before you even pick up a tool_ "grab the blowtorch and get everything hot as fuck and then flow some solder in. And I _know_ you can solder."

Alex looks at Tim through teary eyes. "Wires and boards are different to pipes. No blowtorch there."

"The metal flows the same." They're nearly at the truck now. "Don't try to do it if the pipes are still dribbling. The water won't go away, it'll evaporate and then just recondense at the top of the pipe, you'll boil the same water over and over and it'll steal all your heat. Stuff some bread up the pipe if you need it to stop for long enough to make the joint, it'll dissolve and blast out under pressure and it won't hurt anything."

"Bread? Like, _bread_ bread?"

"You heard me," grins Tim, "don't make Mister Governor repeat himself."

There's a car pulling up, maybe a hundred metres behind Al's. He begins "Sir -"

"Don't fucking call me sir," says Tim - he says it with a smile, but also with his eyes very wide and his brow raised like _Not only am I prepared to be very aggressive to you, I am *unexpectedly delighted* to have a reason,_ it's a gleeful and genuinely happy smile but not what you'd call a friendly one. The three guys getting out of the car would've only seen a jolly smile.

"Alright, Governor Tim," Al corrects himself, his own eyebrows raised and Alex notices his head nods down while Tim's went up and he makes damn sure to file that _whoooole_ interesting little interaction away for later analysis, "you wanna fill me in on the plan, you coming quietly or running like hell?"

"Oh, I'm gonna run like hell," nods Tim. "Your colleagues are gonna catch me, but there's guys watching this shit in bars who've put money on it, and it'd be a shame to just let it happen without putting on a show."

_Ballsy thing to say just before those guys get within earshot,_ Alex wants to say, but those guys are definitely within earshot now, and Alex hears the airy buzz of a drone approaching to watch the whole thing.

"You're gonna be one _hell_ of a governor," smiles Al. He turns towards the approaching smiling men. "Gentlemen, Governor Tim here,"

"Snitch," groan Alex and Tim simultaneously.

"Governor Tim, these are officers Reubens, Menendez and Hollins." The men indicated give friendly little waves.

"It's a pleasure to meet you fine gentlemen," says Tim, giving them a big smile as the drone hovers into view behind them, "and I look forward to working with you." Then he spins on the gravel and fucking bolts towards the house.

Alex watches the three men chase after him, the drone following behind. He looks towards Al.

"Well hell, don't look at me," says Al, "you ever see a mechanic hurry?"

Amazingly, as Tim flees for the east side of the house, not a single one of them thinks to go around the west side.

It occurs to Alex that he has 99 other questions for Tim, and so he starts running as well.

Then it all gets a bit Scooby Doo.

As Tim comes back around the west side, Alex is there, and he shouts "Where do I go through the wall for the solar?"

"Dunno, but use the hammer drill!" pants Tim as he bolts past, pursued by a policeman.

"Right behind you," calls Alex, and Tim suddenly jukes to the left. The cop, slower and heavier, takes a sec as he scrabbles to change direction, and Alex overtakes him. "How do I run a 240 line?"

"One big fat breaker," shouts Tim as he rounds the truck and heads behind the garage, "double-tall, two hots," one of the other cops is closing in now, "they're on opposite phase to each other, no neutral, two hots and a ground!" Alex follows him and fucking hell, turns out the third cop had some sense, he's waiting for him on the other side of the garage. Tim stops, Alex stops, cop arms outstretched, they do a crabby shuffle-dance at each other as they try to figure out whether they're gonna go left or right, Tim turns heel and bolts back past Alex, Alex spreads his arms and crabdances at the cop because hell it ain't a crime to not wanna be governor so it's not like they can book him as an accessory to it and so long as they don't _actually_ collide - oh damn he got past. Where did Tim go?

Alex turns. The drone is right there in his face. He gives it the finger and carries on running, shouting "Where's the main water cutoff?"

"I don't know!" yells Tim, "Figure it out!"

"How do I put up drywall?" pants Alex.

"_Ask a smaller question!_"

"Acid staining concrete floors!"

"Clean it real good and rehearse the whole thing with a sprayer full of water, so you know how to move when you _oof_" and they've got him.

They've fucking got him. Menendez came from the other side of Al's truck and fucking got him, and the other cops are clapping, they're _applauding._

"Gotcha," says Menendez.

"That you did," pants Tim, in Menendez's tight, piggy embrace.

"You all runned out? Can I let go?"

Tim, amazingly, laughs. "That was actually fun," he chuckles. "But yeah, I think I'm all runned out."

Menendez slaps him heartily on the back. "Good chase."

Tim, amazingly again, slaps him right back. "Good chase."

Alex may never understand what the fuck is going on here, but he places it all in his Guy Stuff For Later Analysis folder.

Al wants a handshake. Tim wants to hug Alex, and he does so, sweaty and warm and firm and big. The other cops want to get Tim in the car. Tim wants to toss the keys to Alex, and Alex is bad at catching things, so he bats them from his right hand to his left and back to his right and up in the air and then gets them in both sore keystabbed hands and they're gone.

They're gone.

Why is Alex smiling?

Alex can feel the people in bars up and down the state cheering the TV. Televised police chases aren't a thing anymore. Football is different now. We don't often see someone being chased who doesn't want to be caught, and it's the only time we can admit that it's genuinely thrilling, and everybody's out of breath and sweaty and their hearts are pumping hard with the closest thing to Actual Violence that doesn't feel bad.

There was some kinda Man Vibe going on.

Alex pants, sweat between his shoulderblades, high enough that he can ignore, just for a couple more seconds, that he's now alone with more house than he knows what to do with.

Then it starts to fucking rain.

(Fortunately, by and large people I describe here like this are NOT friends with me on the Fediverse.)

When I’m sweating bullets, frayed nerves, and put in a search request and I get AI feedback, I’ve never seen the AI feedback:

▪️Chide me for being lazy and not “RTFM-ing” and not knowing what I’m doing
▪️Chide me for using an inferior OS or hardware
▪️Chide me for being poor and not having higher-spec equipment
▪️Give me snide joke or “skill issue” answers

It’s a lot like Sarah Connor’s monologue about the Terminator:

“The Terminator would never stop. It would never leave him. It would never hurt him, never shout at him, or get drunk and hit him, or say it was too busy to spend time with him. It would always be there. And it would die to protect him. Of all the would-be fathers who came and went over the years, this thing, this machine was the only one that measured up.”

People in this space who gleefully act like assholes shouldn’t be surprised when people stop coming to them.

Frankly I think this is an awful situation.

COROLLARY:
People should know how to do basic troubleshooting, and/or know how to as clearly as possible describe the problem they are having.

Wrote them a shitty review then noticed there was an equalizer button, so pulled them out again and gave the three EQ modes a go. They were all shit.

Like these were $20 headphones so I know not to expect miracles but fuck me they sounded Way Way Worse than I expected

different headphones showed up, they had FOUR BUTTONS for forward/back/volumeUp/volumeDown and unfortunately one capacitive sensor for pause/play, the closest I've found yet to sensible headphone controls, but the sound quality was absolutely appalling, worse than you'd get given for free on a plane, so back they go

Do I try one more time or do I reflow a microUSB hole and get some new earpads

Perfect little three-act play that

Boosting my own toots 'cause someone went through my back catalogue and boosted one I don't remember writing At All and I'm wondering what the hell else was going on that day that I wouldn't remember it

Chat systems have emoji reactions now and that's good because sometimes someone says something funny and you laugh and you want to convey that and

🦝 Hot tap full of mousetraps [😂3(🐰🐯🦊)]

Is better than

🦝 Hot tap full of mousetraps
🐰 haha
🐯 ha
🦊 hah

but they still miss out on a lot of nonverbal interaction and this leads to stilted introductions, people blunder into convos all "🐰 hi, I really like lettuce, are there any other lettuce enjoyers in today," there's nothing subtle about just barging right in like that, whereas IRL there'd be all kinda eye contact and head movement and suchlike that'd extend invitation or grant social permission etc

Y'know how when you're in a room and you're looking around from person to person and someone else is doing the same and your eyes meet and you have to decide instantly how to react, whether to skate on by or do the little smile or whatever, well I think when you're stroking your feed and someone else's post is up, if they're also on their phone on the toilet then you both get a big flashing red box that says

EYE CONTACT
you have made eye contact with 🐰, here are your options
* Look down and fidget
* As above but with brief shocked expression first
* Skate on quickly and hope they didn't notice you looking (note: 🐰 is now looking at these same options)
* Downward head nod
* Upward head nod
* Head jiggle
* Hold eye contact expressionlessly for one second and move on
* Smile with lips only and move on
* Smile with eyes and move on
* Smile with entire face and do not move on
* Smile with teeth and do not move on
* Stand up, slap hands on table and shout FRIEND and do not move on
* Jump on table, remove shirt, scream FRIIIEEENNND and move on

And when you selected a reaction you'd get a 1996 bowling alley quality animation to go with it

This sounds like a horrible nightmare but in reality 🐰 would message you and say 🐰 hey, did you just get that same flashing red box as I did? That's fucked up, right? And you'd say 🦝 Fucking hell totally, it nearly gave me a heart attack, who the fuck came up with that

And you'll have made a friend

No listen right, I'll fukhkhkhkhn tear yorrr soul apart la'

Doug Bradley as Pinhead but using Doug Bradley's own accent and vernacular

SCOUSE PINHEAD

https://bsky.app/profile/tauriq.bsky.social/post/3mxc4nisla22o

SCOUSE PINHEAD

I wish someone would care that Mastodon’s UI has been broken for years. Why do I have to click the three dots at the top of a column 20 times a day just to get it to load new posts?!

I met my wife while sabotaging fox hunts together. We started dating when we found out we're both furries. If the fursuits weren't so expensive, we'd be sabotaging fox hunts dressed as foxes.

problem with AI discourse is we're trying to use a technical conversation, where we analyse the development and operation of a technology, to discuss people. the real topic is the people: the people that make or use 'AI'. we're trying to understand them. we didn't realize there were people like this. but now we've discovered that there are, so we're trying to figure it out. via debate and insult, we're trying to work out what the fuck is going on with these people. not the technology, the people

PUT A FUCKING VOLUME KNOB, a REAL VOLUME KNOB, let us hear it CRACKLE and POP until we TAKE IT APART and CLEAN it, we have a need to periodically maintain and care for things, maintenance-free switches ROB us of the opportunity to fulfil this basic human need in a newbie-friendly non-threatening way, WE NEVER RECOVERED FROM LOSING THE WINDOWS DEFRAGGER

That's where the Gen Z Stare comes from, it's from shit headphones