When someone dies, they no longer get to advocate for themselves. They can’t state the position they took on any topic. They can’t defend decisions they had made. I guess the reason they say you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead stems from the fact that the narrative becomes one-sided when they cross the great egress. I get that. I really do. My dad apparently suffered crippling depression. I’ve seen artwork he has produced; sketches and paintings, that have more than shone a light on the struggles he lived with on a daily basis. I’ve heard from many people that my dad was a very depressed man. The Sheriff finalized that when arriving at the scene of the accident, finding the seatbelt unused and the empty bottle of bourbon. I used to think that if I made it to thirty two years of age I’d have done more for my kids than anything my dad had ever done for me. Yes, I suffer from depression. The thing that keeps me from exposing myself to liability like dying is the fact that I know first hand what happened to my family when my dad died. I saw that even his ex wife broke down in tears when he passed, almost as though she saw it coming but couldn’t believe it. My grandparents were just absolutely disabled for such a long time. They bore the absolute brunt of it, and they were the ones feeling bad for me. I truly felt bad for them, because I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose a child, and I hope to god I never do.

Yesterday I ate a small half of a cap of Ghost strain of Psilocybe Cubensis. To say that it’s strong is an understatement. I really didn’t think I consumed that much of it, though I didn’t weigh it, it could only have been a gram or two at most. It was small and light.

It came on slow. Confusion, wiggling vision, color saturation and hue pulsating and morphing. I thought the initial intensity would be an indicator of what I was in for. It was not. Not by a long shot. Shortly after that, I found myself needing to lay down. I was fully incapacitated, staring at god only knows, drooling, incomprehensible. I was rendered immobile. I did try and get back on top of the mushroom, but it quickly asserted it’s dominance and threw me back down on the bed like a limp ragdoll. It was interesting, to say the least.

Have you ever felt like a “post turtle” before? Like someone put you on a post way up high and have no idea what you’re doing there or how you even got there? Man, that feels like me damn near every day at my job. It really sucks a lot sometimes, but my god, lately it feels like it more now than ever. I think it’s because I’m venturing into stuff I really don’t have any experience in. I’m diving into the pseudo-realm of “kind-of-gaging”. It’s really awkward for me because I’ve actually had a decent part in a few large gaging projects prior to this, but it just really doesn’t even feel relevant when compared to what I’m doing right now.

I haven’t used traditional social media in a very long time. Instead I’ve been entertaining myself with both old-school internet relay chat and very new nostr. It’s an interesting culture that has been attracted to it. I don’t need to agree with everyone’s politics or beliefs no matter where I play, but apparently on nostr it truly doesn’t matter. The only recourse the nostr network has is for any individual who doesn’t like you to use their big fat block button. Just as God intended. No massive network-wide user eliminations like on Mastodon. The relays don’t apparently communicate with one another, but you can use many relays at once. My preferred client comes pre-loaded with 19. If one of them doesn’t like me, then so be it, I’m still on 18 others. If I really want to (and I do, actually) I could just run my own relay. Which I will be doing eventually.

Well, it’s long past time I finally dove into it and learned myself some proper Linux server administration basics. I’ve been on the struggle bus when it comes to keeping my two Raspberry Pi 4’s in operating condition. I forgot how long it took me to do a manual install of Nextcloud without relying on either Snap or Docker. I’m pretty sure it took me something like two weeks to iron it out, and a month to tweak all of the necessary settings to make the installation happy with the machine it’s on.

If you’ve ever gotten that shitty This application is damaged and cannot be run error on MacOS when trying to run an application or binary you downloaded from the internet, it means that Apple is preventing that app from running because it’s not signed by their development software.

The fix is to run this:

xattr -d com.apple.quarantine /Applications/YourAppHere.app

I don’t think the command even returns anything whether successful or not, but it should stop preventing your app from running at that point. The garbage part of it is that MacOS will tag it yet again if it’s updated, which means you’re going to use this command a lot.

It took me a hot minute, but I finally recovered from a catastrophic SDCard failure. I had one of my Raspberry Pi’s die on me recently, and 90% of the time when they die that failure is of the SDCard. I had my primary ssh point of presence die recently, and it also acts as my Nextcloud instance as well. She took a magical shit with nothing on the SDCard being of value after the fact. So of course I had to obtain one that wasn’t dead, then flash it with an operating system that would be suitable enough to keep it limping along even further.

I think most of us realize this already, and a vast majority of us who realize this understand that it’s the exploitative nature of the “Q” lie that is specifically insidious. First and foremost it is a cope fabricated around lies that people want to be true. People who are comfortable supporting a fascist government predicated on the government being mostly in agreement with their core beliefs, these are the prime targets of QAnon, and the lowest hanging fruit. They’re the ones specifically targeted for the absolute train-wreck that is QAnon. These people feel listless without an authoritarian regime tightening the reigns on them. They want the boot on their neck, because the boot they want on their neck is the father they never had. I don’t really know, I’m guessing, I’m forever and always a “fuck the government” type no matter what. Fuck the government forever and always. That’s my motto. It’s my core belief structure.