• 12 Posts
  • 65 Comments
Joined 2 months ago
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Cake day: July 18th, 2024

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  • It is and I could. I’d be fine doing it, but why not just read them when they come up in !fediverse@lemmy.world? I’ve been trying not to create communities that are going to be duplicates or spam, or split the user base between one way of reading articles and another way of reading articles. Do you want it as a DM, maybe?

    I think an even better way would be software that can follow the original Wordpress feed, if they have one, but Lemmy can’t do that right now.


  • PhilipTheBucket@ponder.catOPtoFediverse@lemmy.worldFollow RSS feeds from Lemmy
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    22 days ago

    Not a problem at all. I think a better way to do that will be to let moderators of existing communities add the bot to their existing communities. Someone asked about doing that, and it’s easy to set up the bot to make it possible, so I think I’ll just do that instead. I don’t need to create a duplicate community for anything that’s already got one.

    I’m fine with the existing structure, with one community per periodical. I tried !coding_blogs@rss.ponder.cat and !science_streams@rss.ponder.cat and it looks like some people are into that type of structure, but I’m thinking mostly in terms of one-periodical communities or moderators from off-instance communities being able to add things.

    Are there any that you would cherry-pick that you think you would personally use? I’d be perfectly willing to add them, if so.



  • PhilipTheBucket@ponder.catOPtoFediverse@lemmy.worldPaywall content for rss.ponder.cat
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    29 days ago

    Than there is problem with I don’t trust media will write the truth anyway, so giving them few bucks will probably not change that. But it is important for us to know what other people know.

    Are there any media sources that I’m hosting feeds for which you feel that way about? I think the problem is much worse in a lot of free content, and I’ve been trying to bring in honest and high-quality sources when I’m adding news sources.

    While this is outside of our current discussion, they need to find better model.

    If it is a daily newspaper, maybe paywal new articles and release after sone reasonable time (like a week, or month… or a year).

    I don’t understand, can you explain more?

    Edit: I understand now. That’s outside the scope of my abilities… I would like to be able to offer a paid subscription with a deal that provides access to a wide variety of paywalled content, like a site license at a university, but I think that’s also outside the scope of my abilities. You’re right that they need a better model.

    I like your idea of separating feeds, to keep paywalled content out of my feed.

    It seems like a good compromise. I certainly understand that if someone’s decided not to read paywalled content, putting a lot of it into their Lemmy feed in a way that’s difficult to disable isn’t a good thing to do. I think separating the paywalled content into a separate user so it’s easy to block is probably a good pragmatic solution.






  • They clearly know it, but they clearly have lawyers that are wise enough to see that lawsuits are one of the few things Musk can still generate. Otherwise they could have written a much shorter article:

    Alp Toker, director of Netblocks, said the social media platform’s explanation of how the issue was fixed “isn’t particularly consistent” with a DDoS attack. “Given Elon Musk’s claim that X had to limit the number of live listeners to mitigate the issue, we can infer that the outage correlated to the number of live listeners,” said Mr Toker. “Limiting the number of legitimate users isn’t an ordinary mitigation for DDoS attacks and wouldn’t usually help… so Mr Musk’s own statement suggests that the platform might have been struggling with overall listener capacity.”

    https://www.google.com/search?q=elon+musk+firing+twitter+engineers

    🤣





  • They might, but I think that China’s type of deception is different than most democratic governments’. They would be more likely to simply pretend the story hadn’t happened, because it doesn’t fit their narrative and goals. See how long it takes you to find the story on SCMP. It took me quite a while.

    China’s deception on Taiwan is trying to find ways of doing less aggression so as not to provoke a costly conflict with the US, while presenting a posture that they are being extremely aggressive and the US is scared of them. Wanting to fight an unpopular war, and finding an acceptable reason to seize on to actualize it, is much more in line with the US’s normal behavior than it is with China’s. China’s situation with Taiwan, at least so far, has been largely the opposite.






  • I completely agree. Maybe my phrasing was careless. I wasn’t trying to be critical of the pace of accepting PRs or anything. I only meant that I think more flexibility in the frontend would help, instead of needing any minor UI change to go all the way through a cycle all the way up to you, incorporating it into the core codebase, and then filtering back down to an upgrade by the instance admin. But please don’t take it as blaming you for any of that situation. I was raising it in the effort to propose a solution and also to advocate against people just complaining about the moderation tools and then moving on, and waiting for you to make them happy.

    I did look at the backend plugin system PR, although sadly not enough yet to have any opinion or feedback on it. I do think a frontend plugin system, of sorts, could help a lot. I’m not sure when I will have time but I will try to put together something on this instance to show what I’m talking about, and if I do wind up doing it and it’s well received, I am completely open to putting it together as a fixed-up and official PR for the main codebase.



  • St. Michael’s on his mountain in the sea-roads of the north
    (Don John of Austria is girt and going forth.)
    Where the grey seas glitter and the sharp tides shift
    And the sea folk labour and the red sails lift.
    He shakes his lance of iron and he claps his wings of stone;
    The noise is gone through Normandy; the noise is gone alone;
    The North is full of tangled things and texts and aching eyes
    And dead is all the innocence of anger and surprise,
    And Christian killeth Christian in a narrow dusty room,
    And Christian dreadeth Christ that hath a newer face of doom,
    And Christian hateth Mary that God kissed in Galilee,
    But Don John of Austria is riding to the sea.
    Don John calling through the blast and the eclipse
    Crying with the trumpet, with the trumpet of his lips,
    Trumpet that sayeth ha!
    Domino gloria!
    Don John of Austria
    Is shouting to the ships.

    King Philip’s in his closet with the Fleece about his neck
    (Don John of Austria is armed upon the deck.)
    The walls are hung with velvet that is black and soft as sin,
    And little dwarfs creep out of it and little dwarfs creep in.
    He holds a crystal phial that has colours like the moon,
    He touches, and it tingles, and he trembles very soon,
    And his face is as a fungus of a leprous white and grey
    Like plants in the high houses that are shuttered from the day,
    And death is in the phial, and the end of noble work,
    But Don John of Austria has fired upon the Turk.
    Don John’s hunting, and his hounds have bayed—
    Booms away past Italy the rumour of his raid
    Gun upon gun, ha! ha!
    Gun upon gun, hurrah!
    Don John of Austria
    Has loosed the cannonade.

    The Pope was in his chapel before day or battle broke,
    (Don John of Austria is hidden in the smoke.)
    The hidden room in man’s house where God sits all the year,
    The secret window whence the world looks small and very dear.
    He sees as in a mirror on the monstrous twilight sea
    The crescent of his cruel ships whose name is mystery;
    They fling great shadows foe-wards, making Cross and Castle dark,
    They veil the plumèd lions on the galleys of St. Mark;
    And above the ships are palaces of brown, black-bearded chiefs,
    And below the ships are prisons, where with multitudinous griefs,
    Christian captives sick and sunless, all a labouring race repines
    Like a race in sunken cities, like a nation in the mines.
    They are lost like slaves that swat, and in the skies of morning hung
    The stair-ways of the tallest gods when tyranny was young.
    They are countless, voiceless, hopeless as those fallen or fleeing on
    Before the high Kings’ horses in the granite of Babylon.
    And many a one grows witless in his quiet room in hell
    Where a yellow face looks inward through the lattice of his cell,
    And he finds his God forgotten, and he seeks no more a sign—
    (But Don John of Austria has burst the battle-line!)
    Don John pounding from the slaughter-painted poop,
    Purpling all the ocean like a bloody pirate’s sloop,
    Scarlet running over on the silvers and the golds,
    Breaking of the hatches up and bursting of the holds,
    Thronging of the thousands up that labour under sea
    White for bliss and blind for sun and stunned for liberty.
    Vivat Hispania!
    Domino Gloria!
    Don John of Austria
    Has set his people free!

    Cervantes on his galley sets the sword back in the sheath
    (Don John of Austria rides homeward with a wreath.)
    And he sees across a weary land a straggling road in Spain,
    Up which a lean and foolish knight forever rides in vain,
    And he smiles, but not as Sultans smile, and settles back the blade…
    (But Don John of Austria rides home from the Crusade.)


  • Content warning, imperialism.

    I didn’t write this. G.K. Chesterton did.


    White founts falling in the courts of the sun,
    And the Soldan of Byzantium is smiling as they run;
    There is laughter like the fountains in that face of all men feared,
    It stirs the forest darkness, the darkness of his beard,
    It curls the blood-red crescent, the crescent of his lips,
    For the inmost sea of all the earth is shaken with his ships.
    They have dared the white republics up the capes of Italy,
    They have dashed the Adriatic round the Lion of the Sea,
    And the Pope has cast his arms abroad for agony and loss,
    And called the kings of Christendom for swords about the Cross,
    The cold queen of England is looking in the glass;
    The shadow of the Valois is yawning at the Mass;
    From evening isles fantastical rings faint the Spanish gun,
    And the Lord upon the Golden Horn is laughing in the sun.

    Dim drums throbbing, in the hills half heard,
    Where only on a nameless throne a crownless prince has stirred,
    Where, risen from a doubtful seat and half attainted stall,
    The last knight of Europe takes weapons from the wall,
    The last and lingering troubadour to whom the bird has sung,
    That once went singing southward when all the world was young,
    In that enormous silence, tiny and unafraid,
    Comes up along a winding road the noise of the Crusade.
    Strong gongs groaning as the guns boom far,
    Don John of Austria is going to the war,
    Stiff flags straining in the night-blasts cold
    In the gloom black-purple, in the glint old-gold,
    Torchlight crimson on the copper kettle-drums,
    Then the tuckets, then the trumpets, then the cannon, and he comes.
    Don John laughing in the brave beard curled,
    Spurning of his stirrups like the thrones of all the world,
    Holding his head up for a flag of all the free.
    Love-light of Spain—hurrah!
    Death-light of Africa!
    Don John of Austria
    Is riding to the sea.

    Mahound is in his paradise above the evening star,
    (Don John of Austria is going to the war.)
    He moves a mighty turban on the timeless houri’s knees,
    His turban that is woven of the sunset and the seas.
    He shakes the peacock gardens as he rises from his ease,
    And he strides among the tree-tops and is taller than the trees,
    And his voice through all the garden is a thunder sent to bring
    Black Azrael and Ariel and Ammon on the wing.
    Giants and the Genii,
    Multiplex of wing and eye,
    Whose strong obedience broke the sky
    When Solomon was king.

    They rush in red and purple from the red clouds of the morn,
    From temples where the yellow gods shut up their eyes in scorn;
    They rise in green robes roaring from the green hells of the sea
    Where fallen skies and evil hues and eyeless creatures be;
    On them the sea-valves cluster and the grey sea-forests curl,
    Splashed with a splendid sickness, the sickness of the pearl;
    They swell in sapphire smoke out of the blue cracks of the ground,—
    They gather and they wonder and give worship to Mahound.
    And he saith, “Break up the mountains where the hermit-folk can hide,
    And sift the red and silver sands lest bone of saint abide,
    And chase the Giaours flying night and day, not giving rest,
    For that which was our trouble comes again out of the west.
    We have set the seal of Solomon on all things under sun,
    Of knowledge and of sorrow and endurance of things done,
    But a noise is in the mountains, in the mountains, and I know
    The voice that shook our palaces—four hundred years ago:
    It is he that saith not ‘Kismet’; it is he that knows not Fate ;
    It is Richard, it is Raymond, it is Godfrey in the gate!
    It is he whose loss is laughter when he counts the wager worth,
    Put down your feet upon him, that our peace be on the earth.”
    For he heard drums groaning and he heard guns jar,
    (Don John of Austria is going to the war.)
    Sudden and still—hurrah!
    Bolt from Iberia!
    Don John of Austria
    Is gone by Alcalar.