southsamurai

Alas, he’s had a rough road health wise (looked him up because not in the mood for a video). Brain cancer in the nineties, a stroke in 2005. I hadn’t really thought to look him up before, despite being a fan.

The stroke essentially ended his on camera and stunt/fight coordinator career. What little I could find shows him mostly doing conventions and advocating for stunt professionals.

Dude is fucking legendary though, if you have more than a passive interest in action and martial arts movies. On and off camera, he was a mainstay. Pretty much had a hand in choreographing at least a little of the fights in every movie he was in afaik.

Him and Bolo Yeung were (imo) two best known action stars that nobody could name. You remembered them, and there was nobody else really like them, but since they weren’t the stars, it would take multiple movies before you remembered their names.

Of course, at least under normal circumstances.

Like humans or wild animals, a pet is going to have their full sensory array available. Even a blind and deaf animal can pick up vibrations as someone approaches then, feel changes in air movement, etc.

Since hands are different sizes, even if they were asleep at the moment of contact, it wouldn’t take long to figure out whose hand was on them. Obviously , that might be negated if the hands are similar enough, but I would suspect that even then the differences in how a person pets them would be useful.

You could likely create a situation to bypass everything and “fool” a pet, but that’s what you’d have to do.

My brain melts past pi, e, and I

Hell, when it comes down to anything beyond the most basic explanations of e and i, my brain melts.

π is easy enough to wrap my head around, it’s a simple ratio with a hugely unusual result when calculated. In terms of describing what it is, i is simple enough, the square root of -1. The brain melt comes in when trying to hold the implications of it in my mind.

But e? That shit is bonkers. Ain’t nothing simple there at all, you can’t even define it without a line of math. Which, yeah, that’s the point of the e notation; it’s just trying to hold the concept in active memory is way past my ability to math.

Don’t worry, by the time you hit fifty-ish, you won’t have energy for rage any more lol.

Tbh, even the least well designed apps are a better experience overall. Lemmy via browser is often a drag.

Because it’s not a website. It’s a connected network of sites that requires a bit of a learning curve to really use.

Carson McKee

It always kinda amazes me how little interaction there is across generations.

The hippies and such that were part of the pre-eighties boomer counterculture movements are still there. Most of those don’t look the part, but still hold the same beliefs.

Some just grew the fuck up, had families, and no longer had the energy to sustain a life of protest. A lot of what drove that era’s visible counterculture was youthful energy. Young idealists eventually hit a wall where no matter what their beliefs are, they’re limited by reality in how much time, effort, and resources they can put towards their cause.

But there’s also the fact that every generation is diverse. You’ll have the edges, where you find the most vehement people, but the majority are going to just not give a fuck as long as they can live with acceptable levels of hassle. In that laundry majority, you’ll find the folks that agree with a given principle, but can’t/won’t do anything about it. They will, however, give lip service.

That’s boomers, Xers, millennials, Z, Alpha, whatever age range you want to point at. You’ll still have the vehement and loud, but as they age up, there’s less of their age peers jumping on the bandwagon.

Then, the next age group comes along and wants an enemy. That enemy is going to be the establishment because establishment is the thing we all are forced to live in. It’s the default, the status quo. And that means the previous generations that are in that majority that are just trying to live and survive are part of that establishment. So you get the bullshit generational warfare. Which, once you live long enough, and/or look back at history enough, you discover happens every generation. There’s always a struggle of some kind because there’s always some degree of power imbalance created just by surviving long enough to accrue knowledge/resources.

This is phenomenon relied on by power brokers. The 1%, if you want to look at it that way. The folks that have control of enough resources that they essentially control everyone’s lives.

It isn’t about killing the idea. It’s about making it known that some shit erases you as being allowed to exist.

That way, even when it does crop up, everyone knows exactly what will happen.

The only good nazi is a dead nazi.

Not important to me. I dig the skullet I have, and the shape of my head works for me overall.

Plus, my beard is fucking epic :)

It happens :)

Something that would be said in person in a way that makes it obvious as a joke doesn’t scan as well in text. Add in the divergent thinking so that even the text is different than what a neurotypical person would think of as a dark joke, and things can fall flat (or worse).

Keep at it though, humor is the only thing getting a lot of folks through life, even when it’s dark

I love that reference :)

Used to be my grandfather.

The man had magnificent salt & pepper hair right up to his death, though the salt was well into taking over in his late seventies. Absolutely amazing hair. Alas, the genes for male pattern baldness hit me because that’s how it works.

Nah, as long as it isn’t significantly different, all that matters is that it isn’t going to irritate and rub.

Mind you, the more of a difference there is, the less comfortable it’s going to be in shoes, no matter what material it is.

You might run into the patch job wearing the surrounding fabric out faster if there’s a decent difference as well, but it isn’t like something that thin is going to last very long once a hole appears anyway.

The point is mostly to contain the inevitable griping to some degree.

If there’s a c/ where complaining about reddit is the default, then it’s easier to channel such things to that c/ rather than dealing with it constantly in other communities. Can’t say how effective it actually is, but that would be the point imo

Pretty much, yeah, though it doesn’t have to be low, iirc. It can come from higher in the throat, and thus sound higher pitched as well.

Isn’t that a version of fry?

Yeah, it’ll be a while yet

Mostly only instrumentals. I suck at singing, but it brings me joy, So I do it anyway.

That being said, there’s a few I can’t really sing along to most of. If we were vampires, by Jason isbell is one. There’s parts I can follow, but most of the song, my voice just breaks on, so I more just hum along with, or mouth the lyrics.

Fuck, I don’t even know for sure.

I think it was for a patient back in the early to mid nineties. I’m dubious on which patient, and whether or not that was the first time or just the first I remember.

If it’s the one I think, the guy had a stroke, and I knew pretty much right away what was going on, so I was dialing before I got to him (this was pre-cell phone ubiquity, so it was a cordless phone via landline). It’s kinda muddy in memory now, what with about two decades of other patients in similar situations, but I recall thinking “fuck, fuck, fuck” a lot while I was moving to him, and my heart pounding with the adrenaline of it.

Dude survived, and even partially recovered before another took him out.

However, it’s possible he wasn’t the first, and I’m mixing things up. But I’m mostly confident that I had never needed to use the service until I was working home health. Those early years blur really hard nowadays. I used to remember most of the patient’s names, stories they told, etc, but there’s rarely been opportunity to call on those memories, so they’ve faded.

Until I started having health issues of my own in my late thirties, I had never called 911 for anyone but a patient that I can recall. Even when I would witness something like a car wreck, someone else was already calling by the time I’d have been able to.

Generally though, since it was on the job, I was mostly focused on giving clear, concise information to expedite a fast and appropriate response. You default to training and let things go on autopilot so you can handle both the call and whatever help you’re providing. Like, you can’t think through CPR while also giving info to a dispatcher, monitoring the patient, and stuffing the emotional side of things down. There’s no room for thinking in any appreciable way.

I did have the fucking Beegees running through my head at one point though lol. Caught myself almost singing underneath the panting I was doing while trying to keep the pace up because all the instructors back then would use “staying alive” as the perfect rhythm for chest compressions.

That was still better than the first time I ever had to do CPR, but that’s a different subject.

Anyway, yeah, that’s what it was like that time, and I think it was the first.

I also remember the dispatcher having to ask me to repeat things because CPR is hard fucking exercise lol.

Thing is, most of the times i had to call 911 on the job were kinda dull? Heart attacks, falls, strokes, when you’re following procedures and are providing the kind of care you trained for, it doesn’t hit the same as when something is outside your training. Something like a plane crash, I’d have no clue what to do, so I expect I’d be wound up like a stolen watch. But basic first aid, CPR, that kind of thing, there’s not usually a reason to get worked up. It’s one of those things where the knowledge and familiarity really do make something that’s a major event on one hand just another day at work. You do the job, you do CPR and get EMS on the way, and then you go home.

There’s stuff that happened on the job that I never even mentioned when I’d get home because why would I? It was “just” another bad thing that got handled and was over. My best friend, it was only a few weeks ago that I mentioned having had human flesh fly in my mouth and get swallowed. You’d think I’d have had a story to tell when I got home, but nope. It happened, it was over, and I just wanted to chill and watch some tv, or play some d&d.

It’s fucking weird how my brain compartmentalized/s stuff like that. There’s this section that got labeled “weird work shit” that would only get pulled out when story time happened, and that wasn’t very common by that point.

It took really heavy shit for me to get home and want to talk about it. And by the time I was doing home health I had burnt out once or twice already in the nursing homes, so my threshold for heavy had shifted. You see enough death and misery, you don’t really get het up over a heart attack or stroke. So I don’t have many clear recollections of the 911 calls on the job.

Now, some of the other ones? Like when my parents had their heart attacks, or when I thought I was, those hit different. Mind you, I still compartmentalized the fuck out of it during the event, but I broke down hard once things were out of my hands. The 911 calls though, I was icy as fuck.

Tangential, but in the ER when a nurse was taking me back to my dad, she said that I seemed to be handling it really well because I cracked a joke of some kind. I didn’t even think, and said I was faking it until I could fall apart, which was the truth. I had crammed all the fear and worry down into a box in the corner so I could handle shit. And handle shit I did.

Then I went home and fell apart lol.