• 0 Posts
  • 293 Comments
Joined 3 years ago
Cake day: June 1st, 2023
  • Random Dent@lemmy.mltoAsk Lemmy@lemmy.world•What is a big internal debate within a fandom or hobby you are a part of that outsiders probably wouldn't care about?English
    16·
    4 days ago

    Doctor Who has a bunch of them!

    One of the big recent ones was the Timeless Child plotline. For people unfamiliar with the show, the basic premise is that the main character, the Doctor, is an alien who’s species can regenerate themselves when they’re about to die which saves them but they become a physically different person. This was invented back in the 60s so they could change out the lead actor, William Hartnell, when he got too old to continue in the role and it’s become a core part of the show. We’re now on about the 15-16th Doctor, although that number is a bit contentious too for reasons I won’t go into here because that’s a whole other thing.

    A few years back there was a plotline where it was revealed that the Doctor isn’t just a regular alien, they’re something called the Timeless Child that just appeared in our universe from somewhere unknown, and was the one that gave their whole species the ability to regenerate themselves. This was widely hated, as it not only changed the Doctor from a sort of wandering hobo into a Super Special Chosen One, but it also directly showed that William Hartnell wasn’t the first Doctor, there had been probably dozens of other ones before him that had just never been mentioned until now.

    The internal debates that I’ve seen usually aren’t people debating whether this was a good idea or not, they’re mostly about the best way to retcon it away and never speak of it again lol.

  • Random Dent@lemmy.mltoPrivacy@lemmy.ml•I was a week away from buying a Pixel Pro 10 for GrapheneOSEnglish
    481·
    5 days ago

    GrapheneOS user here! Not sure about websites but there are certain apps that don’t work properly without Google Play Services, but Graphene’s app store has a sandboxed version of it, so I just installed that and revoked all it’s permissions. Then if an app needs it, I just turn on the relevant permission, do the thing and then turn permissions off again. It’s a bit of a pain at first but I’m used to it now.

  • Random Dent@lemmy.mltoAsklemmy@lemmy.ml•*Permanently Deleted*English
    2·
    1 month ago

    I actually find it pretty helpful for tech support stuff. It doesn’t always get it right, but it’s usually at least in the right general area and TBH it beats going through endless forums where the answer is buried among 8 pages of people bickering about nothing, or those ones where someone has your exact problem and then replies “nm I fixed it” and doesn’t say what they did.

  • Random Dent@lemmy.mltoAsk Lemmy@lemmy.world•Hey Lemmy, what's your favorite poem?English
    3·
    1 month ago

    I’m Explaining a Few Things by Pablo Neruda

    You are going to ask: and where are the lilacs?

    and the poppy-petalled metaphysics?

    and the rain repeatedly spattering

    its words and drilling them full

    of apertures and birds?

    I’ll tell you all the news.

    I lived in a suburb,

    a suburb of Madrid, with bells,

    and clocks, and trees.

    From there you could look out

    over Castille’s dry face:

    a leather ocean.

    My house was called

    the house of flowers, because in every cranny

    geraniums burst: it was

    a good-looking house

    with its dogs and children.

    Remember, Raul?

    Eh, Rafel? Federico, do you remember

    from under the ground

    my balconies on which

    the light of June drowned flowers in your mouth?

    Brother, my brother!

    Everything

    loud with big voices, the salt of merchandises,

    pile-ups of palpitating bread,

    the stalls of my suburb of Arguelles with its statue

    like a drained inkwell in a swirl of hake:

    oil flowed into spoons,

    a deep baying

    of feet and hands swelled in the streets,

    metres, litres, the sharp

    measure of life,

    stacked-up fish,

    the texture of roofs with a cold sun in which

    the weather vane falters,

    the fine, frenzied ivory of potatoes,

    wave on wave of tomatoes rolling down the sea.

    And one morning all that was burning,

    one morning the bonfires

    leapt out of the earth

    devouring human beings –

    and from then on fire,

    gunpowder from then on,

    and from then on blood.

    Bandits with planes and Moors,

    bandits with finger-rings and duchesses,

    bandits with black friars spattering blessings

    came through the sky to kill children

    and the blood of children ran through the streets

    without fuss, like children’s blood.

    Jackals that the jackals would despise,

    stones that the dry thistle would bite on and spit out,

    vipers that the vipers would abominate!

    Face to face with you I have seen the blood

    of Spain tower like a tide

    to drown you in one wave

    of pride and knives!

    Treacherous

    generals:

    see my dead house,

    look at broken Spain :

    from every house burning metal flows

    instead of flowers,

    from every socket of Spain

    Spain emerges

    and from every dead child a rifle with eyes,

    and from every crime bullets are born

    which will one day find

    the bull’s eye of your hearts.

    And you’ll ask: why doesn’t his poetry

    speak of dreams and leaves

    and the great volcanoes of his native land?

    Come and see the blood in the streets.

    Come and see

    The blood in the streets.

    Come and see the blood

    In the streets!

    Good Bones by Maggie Smith

    Life is short, though I keep this from my children.

    Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine

    in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,

    a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways

    I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least

    fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative

    estimate, though I keep this from my children.

    For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.

    For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,

    sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world

    is at least half terrible, and for every kind

    stranger, there is one who would break you,

    though I keep this from my children. I am trying

    to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,

    walking you through a real shithole, chirps on

    about good bones: This place could be beautiful,

    right? You could make this place beautiful.