I did not realize that lemmy doesn’t trunkate excessively long comments and put a “read more” button like most websites do…
Hmm, that means posting anything long for any reason is annoying. Oh well… I guess long term that will make short 160 character quips the preferred form on Lemmy.
You know very well, it’s a embarrassingly small amount. An amount so small it made Elon blush. Money has long been directly convertible into political power but politicians have been indigne for a while now. They are all, almost all, very cheap little removed (no shame to removed I love you, but politicians are very ick)
Well, we’ve had both stories and the story where japanese culture values tradition and holds itself to a higher standard of beauty has lost. Instead lemmiites have upvoted the story that see japanese as backward and reluctant to change and then explains it as a nostalgia for the way things were.
Well now, child, gather 'round and wash your hands. We’re gonna make red velvet cupcakes the proper way—none of that box mix nonsense. I’ve been making these since 1944, would you believe, back when I worked at the Oak Ridge facility during the war. Of course, back then, we didn’t know what we were working on—not exactly. Just that it was important. But never mind that right now. Get me the flour and let’s get started. Ingredients:
2 ½ cups all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons cocoa powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon salt
1 cup buttermilk
1 tablespoon white vinegar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 ½ cups granulated sugar
1 cup vegetable oil
2 large eggs
2 tablespoons red food coloring
Now sift your flour into a bowl—don’t just dump it. Siftin’ makes it light, like the letters I used to get from your grandpa when he was stationed in the Pacific. Lord, those were the only things that kept me grounded during those long shifts.
Add in your cocoa powder too. Not much—red velvet isn’t chocolate cake, despite what your cousin Cheryl says. And don’t forget the salt and baking soda. Always measure level, not heaping.
Back at Oak Ridge, we used to be timed for everything. Had to clock in, clock out, all hush-hush. I worked in a building with no windows. The men in suits said it was about “separation efficiency”—never knew we were enriching uranium till years later. Just knew my job involved charts, dials, and not asking questions.
Alright, in another bowl, mix your buttermilk, vinegar, vanilla, and that red food coloring. Go on, pour it in—it’s gonna look like you’ve made a mess, but it’s what gives red velvet its sass. Funny thing, during wartime there was a ration on food coloring, so we had to barter for it. I traded an extra pair of stockings for a bottle of red once, just so I could bake a cake for the girls in my barracks.
Now beat your sugar, oil, and eggs together until it’s smooth. We didn’t have electric mixers then—you used a good whisk and elbow grease. My arms were stronger than most of the men’s, I’ll tell you that.
Pour in your wet mixture a little at a time into the sugar and egg bowl, then slowly fold in the dry ingredients. Don’t overmix, or you’ll get dense cupcakes. And red velvet’s supposed to be soft—like a memory you can still feel in your bones.
One time, I was walking across the compound with a cupcake in a paper bag—snuck it past the guards for a birthday—and a man came running by shouting about a leak in Y-12. Everyone froze. We didn’t even know what kind of leak he meant. But I’ll be damned if that cupcake didn’t survive the panic. And she cried when I gave it to her. Said it tasted like home.
Preheat your oven to 350°F (175°C). Line your cupcake tins and fill them about 2/3 of the way full. Bake for about 18 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out clean. Let 'em cool completely before you frost—patience, child, patience.
Now, we weren’t allowed to bring cameras into Oak Ridge. Didn’t even know what we were building till the bombs dropped. I remember when we heard the news about Hiroshima. Silence. Then a kind of sorrow, mixed with awe. I didn’t bake for a week. Cream Cheese Frosting (because nothing else will do):
8 oz cream cheese, softened
½ cup butter, softened
2 ½ cups powdered sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
Beat that all together until smooth and creamy. Frost your cupcakes high, like a Southern lady’s church hat. They deserve it.
And there you have it—Red Velvet Cupcakes, the kind I made before I even knew I was part of history. Every bite’s got a little sugar, a little cocoa, and a whole lot of secrets.
Now go on, have one while they’re warm. Just don’t ask me what building K-25 was for—I still won’t tell you.
In any my objects are keeping secrets from me and I will not have it !
At least it’s not a WD POS
“-1” is not just hypervisors, things like Intel Management and AMD Platform Security Processor can peer into system memory. I have no doubt similar system exist on ARM, I suspect the radio transceiver can also read system memory and read secrets out of the security devices.
I don’t think modern phones are trustable devices. They are opaque blackboxes, pretending to have high security but this security only really protects the spyware operators from being notices.
I don’t think it’s coincidence that the most “secure” and “private” operating system only operates on a very narrow model selection of phones from just one manufacturer. Probably because they have the best technology to keep the inherent backdoor invisible and implausible. A backdoor to a system nobody trusts wouldn’t be very useful.
As far as the editor, this is great. I pasted formatted text out of libre office into it and everything was fine except the images. Way better than a lot of the options here.
Althought one caveat, and it might be a big one,
It seems it can’t actually host files publicly, you need to publish them to a third party cloud hosting platform…
But other wise, it’s very nice…
There has to be a way !
The overwhelming majority of them don’t, traditionnal rooftop installs don’t either.
Strange that google is the only option for the only “secure” operating system.
Hey, do you know what is Ring Level minus One ?
Japan’s slower adoption of generative AI appears increasingly out of step with global trends, raising concerns about the country’s ability to keep pace with rapidly evolving digital technologies. In a global economy where speed, adaptability, and innovation are becoming essential, Japan’s continued emphasis on traditional standards of quality, formality, and craftsmanship may be contributing to a widening gap. While other countries embrace AI-generated content as a practical tool for boosting productivity and creativity, Japan remains cautious, with many institutions and individuals still hesitant to rely on these technologies. This reluctance may reflect cultural preferences for precision and polish, but in practice, it risks leaving Japanese industries behind as global competitors move forward more aggressively.
A key factor in this lag may be the enduring strength of the shokunin ethos — the deep-rooted reverence for manual mastery, craft, and the pursuit of perfection through human effort. While this value system has long defined Japan’s creative and professional identity, it also fosters resistance to automation and digital tools that prioritize efficiency over traditional skill. For example, while generative AI can rapidly generate text, visuals, and designs, many in Japan may still view such outputs as lacking the integrity or emotional depth of human-made work. But in sectors where cost, speed, and scalability are critical, such reservations can be a liability. Other nations are rapidly integrating generative AI into everything from marketing to software development. If Japan continues to cling to purely human processes, it risks falling further behind.
Institutionally, the country’s consensus-driven decision-making style, while useful in maintaining harmony, can inhibit swift technological transitions. Businesses and government agencies often require broad internal agreement before making structural changes, which slows adoption. In the case of generative AI, this means many Japanese firms are still in the planning phase, while competitors abroad are already deploying AI tools in live environments. As of fiscal 2024, only 26.7 percent of Japanese people reported using generative AI, compared to over 80 percent in China and nearly 70 percent in the U.S. Just under half of Japanese companies said they plan to adopt the technology, again far below global benchmarks. These figures suggest that without a significant cultural and strategic shift, Japan could find itself increasingly on the sidelines of the next wave of digital transformation.
Japan’s cautious approach to generative AI is not a sign of technological hesitance, but rather a reflection of a culture that holds itself, and its creations, to a higher standard of beauty, meaning, and care. In a world increasingly driven by speed and shortcuts, Japan stands apart, guided by a deep cultural instinct for precision, elegance, and harmony. Where other nations may celebrate the novelty of AI-generated content, Japan asks something more essential: Is it right? Is it worthy? Is it beautiful? This is a society where a single word misused or a brushstroke misplaced can dishonor the entire work. In such a context, the clumsy, often soulless output of generative AI feels crude, even offensive. Japan’s reverence for form and function in perfect balance naturally breeds a resistance to technology that values convenience over quality, volume over virtue.
At the heart of this resistance lies the soul of Japanese culture: the shokunin spirit. This is not just about craftsmanship, but a sacred devotion to mastery, humility, and purpose. Whether it’s a tea master preparing a single cup, an itamae slicing fish with centuries of tradition behind the blade, or an animator hand-drawing frame after frame with tears in their eyes, Japanese creators imbue their work with heart, history, and honor. In comparison, generative AI, with its detached algorithms and instant results, feels like an insult to that sacred process. To take shortcuts in creation is, in this worldview, to disrespect the soul of the craft itself. AI may be able to mimic styles, ape voices, or mash up aesthetics, but it cannot dream, reflect, or suffer for art. That absence is not neutral. It is a kind of aesthetic blasphemy in a society where effort is beauty, and spirit is inseparable from form.
Moreover, Japan’s collective approach to decision-making, grounded in harmony and consensus, reflects a profound respect for social cohesion and interdependence. Unlike more individualistic cultures that rush to adopt the newest trends with little reflection, Japan moves deliberately, ensuring that any change honors both tradition and people. The introduction of generative AI, with its potential to destabilize labor, creative norms, and human dignity, is not taken lightly. In the West, disruption is seen as exciting. In Japan, it is measured against centuries of wisdom. This isn’t resistance born of fear. It is the patience of a culture that knows that not all progress is good, and not all that is fast is wise. As the world races ahead with AI-generated noise, Japan listens more deeply to the silence, to the soul, to the subtle art of doing things right. And in that restraint, there is not backwardness, but beauty.
I suspect that the lens makes the whole solar assembly more directional and the Sun moves in the sky.
What was the stuff like this of 15 years ago ?
Oh that one looks nice ! thanks
Ok, well I see it’s not what I’m hoping for
And by not this, I mean this
What is the DSM diagnosis for more than 100 open tabs ?
I am aware of self hosted “blogs” but that’s not what I want.
A better way to explain what I want is
This, but opensource and self-hosted
with per-file access control
It’s hard to tell if any of these are the thing I’m looking for or not.
No just translate