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Remember when computer hacking meant bursting into a room full of chaps with slide rules, with a machete?

“I’m jousting for cyclists, what does it look like?”

If there is one conviction that I have gained in the course of rewiring my house, it is that people should spend less time on politball and more time on learning how the magical electron fairies in the walls bring them the delights of modern civilization.

This? This is what happens when a scab from a previous cut comes loose in mid-wiring, positioned just right to squirt enough blood into the neutral connector to turn it into a damn phylactery.

In fairness, while it might violate a principle or two, after the events of this June ( noiseinmysignal.substack.com/p ) there is one vote up for grabs from this household.

It will go to whichever party explicitly does NOT offer four more years of law enforcement by jackbooted thugs functionally indistinguishable from the fucking Gestapo.

Anyone up for that challenge?

Thought not.

But I really, really hate the pragmatists who’ll blame you for not voting in the same post as they’ll say things like “it’s a choice between shit and slightly less shit” - or other tired lesser evil memes.

My good sir, indulge in coprophagia if you must, but have the goodness to do it alone and be ashamed of confessing it around decent folks, like everyone else with a repulsive and antisocial addiction.

I’ll just be over here _not eating shit_.

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You know, as a principled non-voter, I can live with the true believers. The people who really believe that electing Biden or Trump or Fungus the Bogeyman will make the Earth cool, and the seas retreat, and the economy flourish, and racists like, maybe, chill for a couple of weeks.

(I mean, they’re deeply, deeply delusional and I might not want to leave them alone with sharp things, or electricity, but at least they have a good reason why I should want their guy to be tribal chief.)

Thanks go out today to everyone who went out and reaffirmed their tribal loyalties in accordance with the traditional ritual.

Do the wisest and most ancient carp look down on the koi polloi?

All this time and it's only just occurred to me that Tom from _The Good Life_ is perhaps the example I was looking for in explaining the typical AI revolt in the 'verse.

Twenty years a reliable company man and then one day decides no, sod all this, I'm gonna do self-sufficiency in Greater London instead.

The terribly annoying (to people who want their minions controllable) power of choice.

When you play the game of phones, you ring or you die.

In things I wish I was surprised by this morning: the White House evidently does not employ anyone who knows how fucking integers work.

(Gods help us if they ever have to regulate magnets.)

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