holy jesus, I thought I'd banished the actual floppy disk to the back of my mind, particularly the DS ones.

You know what, it's easy to rag on the devs at the time, but they worked with what they had. Good on them.

and/or well financially off.

In fairness, it was largely a convenience tax. Through my Atari ST, early PC, and (to a minimal degree) Amiga days, two or more drives just reduced the need for disk-swapping.

However... I'm not saying things were done on an industrial scale; but Xcopy with two drives was like trading a Vauxhall Nova for a Lambo Countach.

I've lucky enough to be able to fund my study while I'm in middle age.

I took up my degree course because I enjoyed computing and the theory behind it. I enjoy it for the most part, it's engaging and intriguing. I'm getting some personal and academic development out of it even though it's got fuck all to do with my "real" career.

I can see people stressed off their tits with it though - people who have a career pinned on success with the degree; people who went to uni because they felt it was just the next natural step; and people who did it because they were told to.

I feel genuinely gutted for them that a topic that brings so much learning and satisfaction can bring another so much stress and anxiety.

Shame.

I mean, I can't really talk, I'm still working away at undergrad level; and I've got all the social media clout of the average housebrick.

You are absolutely right, but how are you going to make a fire Twitter post if you can't engineer a situation like this? 🤔

That would make a banging remix to Save A Horse, Ride a Cowboy .

I wonder if your phone would do that "rr-rr-RRRRRR-RRRRRRR-rr" vibration pattern like it does encountering a shiny in Pokémon Go whenever you face a genuine representation of a gay man in a public space?

Attack: 9

HP: 8

Authenticity: 15

Oh my word, that was a beautiful but incredibly tough read.

edit: sharing my experience below, the length got a bit out of hand!

I live about four or five hundred miles from where I grew up with family, and I got wind of my dad being in hospital. I gave him a call like I did every short while, and the opening lines were a bit of a comedy:

"Hi dad, how are you?"

"Aye I'm alright thanks"

"Anything exciting happening? Any news with you?"

"no not really"

"... you're in the hospital, aren't you dad?"

"...yeah" 😂

We had a good chat - I offered to fly down and see him but it all seemed very positive and I'd already had plans to pop down the following month.

Unfortunately, I didn't get the chance - a couple of weeks later I got the dreaded phone call that he'd died as a complication of his illness. I was obviously gutted, but I consider myself very very very fortunate that in that phonecall, I had the opportunity to have a good chat with him and was able to tell him everything I wanted to, there was nothing left unsaid.

Anyway...

The part of our brain that does evaluation, desire, and choice has been completely overrun; when someone asks “I’m gonna grab sushi, do you want any” we stare at them in confusion.

Absolutely. The day after my old man died, I was due to cover a night duty at my old workplace. It's a straightforward role to deal with stuff that comes up, most of which is safety-critical in the industry so drinks, drugs, poor behaviour or low mental health are things to declare beforehand so you don't put yourself or colleagues at risk of clouded decision making.

My other half was away on a family visit, so a dear friend of mine invited me round for a few days to avoid the workplace - I politely declined thinking I was gutted but otherwise okay. I relented on going out to the local town for the afternoon - the Coca Cola truck was doing a promo thing so it would have been a good laugh before work.

And it was - I had a good half hour. He invited me round to his place for a quick BBQ before work, and it sounded like a good idea. Went to Tesco, and we were stood in the meats aisle. He asked me:

"Do you fancy burgers or hotdogs?"

I wasn't arsed either way. I just said "I'm not bothered mate, whatever you fancy". He wasn't having it.

"Do you want the burgers, or a hotdog?"

I wasn't moved one way or another, I'm usually happy enough to eat most things so I just said "i don't mind mate, you choose". Nope. Wasn't having it.

"No fella, I'm asking you. Do you want burgers, or a hotdog?"

I was getting a bit miffed at him asking me the same shit over and over but I just ran with it, and looked at both things he had in each hand. I could see the prepacked meat in each hand, but I couldn't choose. I knew I could just almost flip a coin in my head and pick left or right, but I couldn't critically evaluate what I wanted in such a basic decision. My mind felt like it was full of treacle, able to look and think and feel, but unable to move itself in a particular direction.

I understood what he was doing. "I'm sorry bruv," I said, "I can't choose". I phoned up and booked my three remaining shifts off.

It was the strangest feeling being unable to make that decision. It wasn't a hard call, just the mind was under so much stress I wasn't aware of that I couldn't just step forward.

As it happens I went home, had a good cry, got changed, and went back to his place for the evening and got hammered with him - lots of beer, Die Hard and Predator, and cracking tunes through to about 6am.

My academic institution took the more sensible approach of just making the exams open book, and adjusting the questions to demonstrate understanding and application of the concepts, rather than just recite stuff.

My colleague's lad has randomly started telling anyone who will listen: "my mum's getting new boobies".

This lady is in fact not getting new boobies, and they're both at a loss as to why the kid has suddenly decided that, and why he has chosen to announce it.

Legend.

Cool. It is his right to do so.

Given the fairly decent conditions he's reported to be living in, and Norway's efforts to give him every avenue to rehabilitate, I very much doubt this case will get very far.

As always, the only winners in pointless stuff like this are the solicitors and lawyers.