I little while ago I ditched Firefox, and moved over to Safari, because Firefox just felt slow and clunky. It might be my imagination, but Safari feels fasters on my Mac, faster even than Camino which I used for a while.
There are however somethings about La ‘Fox which I miss, mostly plugins.
Apple-click opens links in new tab, not window
Download’um All - simple regex enabled mass downloader
Greesemonkey scripts - actually just “email links open in Gmail”
RSS links associated with Google reader, which I’m sure is possible but I can’t figure out how.
If anybody has a clue how to make Safari jump through those hoops - it would be great to know.
I’m pretty sure I’ve bitched about the “celebrity chef” use of foam before now, but I blooming hate it. Foam is not food, at best it’s savory Angel Delight, fit only for children and people too infirm to have teeth.
This morning on “Great British Menu”, (a program so pretenious that I hope one day somebody calls them out on being self-indulgfent wankers and serves then deep fried shoe soles with a jous of spit and earwax, only to watch them fawn over it and Oliver Payton to cream his pants and die of a heart attack, the lastdrip of earwax clinging to his pompous face) somebody was serving pea foam with prawns. Pea foam. Pea. Foam.
Anyway - I digress.
The Great British Menu. Every week, a parade of chefs produce a starter, fish course, main course and desert to try and wow three people whom I had never heard of. There Oliver, a grumpy toad who apparently ran nightclubs, Prue can occationally throw her toys out of the pram and Matthew who has a tubby homelyness about him that makes me think he actually knows about food.
Best of British… Roast beef, scones, real ale, crumbly cheese, Cumberland sausage, cold water sea food, venison, deep flavoured casseroles and crunchy chips cooked in animal fat.
Fuck rabbit trifle, and pass me another of those steak and kidney puddings.
My name is Margarita! I am 29 years old.
I addressed in agency acquaintances. When I have specified, how I
search for type of the man. Me have told to approach in 1 week. When I
have again come to agency of acquaintances, to me have told yours
email adress. I am a teacher and i like my work very much.
I work with children and Now I have an opportunity to write to you I am an
interesting, beautiful, kind and single young lady. I want to find my
love, my half and want to marry him. I am looking for a man who will
fall in love with me and I will fall in love with him. I have never
been married but I dream about it. I am fond of children and I dream
about a happy family with the beloved man. I am interested in music,
cooking, reading, traveling and others. I know English very good and
can easily speak!!
If you are interested in me please write me on my e-mail:
xxxxxxx
Please write me and I will send you my photos.
I wait for your letter very much.
Margarita.
People seem to be have to inflict themselves on the world around them. People play music out loud from their mobiles on the bus. People shout out at pub quizzes with “funny” answers. People feel the need to shout out at people in the street because they are wearing funny trousers, or they are fat, or short, or just don’t fit in.
When I say people, I mean the little shits who lurk in my street. Apparently “chav” is now not simply insulting, but politically incorrect too. Excellent, I shall continue to use it to describe the tracksuit wearing, insult hurling, degenerate little turds who throw insults at me at I walk home.
Chavs seem to need to inflict themselves on the world, and do so by any means possible, many of them anti-social. I think it is because they (and many other people) can’t cope with being small in the world.
One day I had a realisation that I did not matter. I could die tomorrow, and the world would not stop turning. Once you’ve stood on top of a mountain thats three hundred times taller than you, a million times older than you, and who knows how much heavier than you, you realise the world doens’t need you. You are as insignificant as a sheep, or a blade of grass, or a marble. It’s a pretty odd feeling. I suspect this is the point people “find God” or some such things. Other people just find physics comforting instead.
There was another day, much later on, when I realised that I was not insignificant. Should the worst come to the worst and I bought it under a bus, or chocked on a chip, or actually died on the dancefloor (a personal wish), the world might not stop turning, but I would have left my mark.
The only way you change the world is by through your interactions with other people, and it’s the only change you’ve got to be remembered. It’s ok to be small in this world, you don’t have to inflict piss-poor hip-hop through a tinny speaker on the rest of us. Stop trying to be the big man, and learn to just be a man.
It’s Sunday morning, and I’ve a list of things I should be doing, but one of them is clearing through a week’s worth of feeds. Here are a few that I’ve enjoyed:
I’m messed about with ssh tunnels (works but is a ball ache) and then lastnight I had a throught - and this morning I’m sitting in work listening to music via iTunes streaming from home.
Turn on iTune sharing
Add password to your iTunes share
Log into your router
Port forward both traffic types on port 3689 to the ip address of your stream source (be that your desktop of Synology cube or whatever)
On your remote machine install RendezvousProxy
Create a proxy connection which points to your home IP on port 3689
Open iTunes on the remote machine, and there is your home iTunes stream being served up.
Yes, it is true. At some point in the past, some genius took the faux-medievil ballards of the Poxy Boggards (whom I first ran across though Warren Ellis’s excellent 4am podcast), mixed it up with anime style drawings, and posted them up on youtube. A star is born I feel.
