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Professional huckster, amateur astronomer, black cat aficionado, husband, dad. Go Mountaineers. No, the other Mountaineers. 85% chance I’m in the kitchen.

North Cackalacky
Joined October 2008
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I don’t know who the original author is, but it’s funny.
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I love Job for many reasons, but mainly because it does a very clever jujitsu move on you as a reader. You start out thinking you've seen behind the curtain -- the scene in heaven w/ God & Satan making bets about Job. So then after Job's trials, as his four friends come visit him to give their theories of why Job is in the predicament he's in, you've got your own little theory based on the opening scene, right? You're essentially the fifth friend who has their own read of the situation. Then God comes in at the end and is like, "all your theories are wrong. None of you were there at The Beginning, and none of you know enough of the real backstory to really understand what's happening here. None of you can actually tame the chaos monster and organize all the things into a coherent whole. Only I can do that." You, the reader, think God is calling out Job and maybe his four friends. But He's calling you out, too. You, the reader, are in the same boat as Job and his four friends. You think you have enough info about what is going on with Job because you saw the opening scene in heaven, but actually you're just as clueless and limited as the story's characters. So the opener of the story is actually a trap, and the conclusion springs it on you. You think you have the backstory via some special perspective, but you're just like all the other confused people in the story. You don't really know and you're not ever going to know, either. Job's lesson is that not only does God not owe you a theodicy (so stop expecting one), but even if you could see into the unseen realm you still wouldn't have a clue. You're never going to have enough information to put the whole, chaotic picture together in some satisfactory way. It's never going to all hang together in a coherent way that makes sense. In some ways, I think Job is a coming of age story. This is one of things you learn in midlife -- that the pieces actually didn't ever fit together like you once thought they did, and the fact that it used to make coherent sense to you says more about who you were in that phase of life than it does about any larger meaning behind the events themselves. The Job story is literally yelling at you that you cannot organize the chaos of life events into a coherent "why" -- it's simply beyond you. That you once thought you could was the arrogance of youth. God is actually the only one strong enough to tame the chaos monster & split its carcass into a neat, ordered, coherent structure. This isn't the answer anyone wants, but it's the only answer that's telling you like it is. Anyway, Job is a great book. The haters are wrong. I like it because I don't like to be lied to.
was invited to a signal gc called Jobchat but contrary to what you might expect it turned out to be a Book of Job reading group
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My Fitness Coach is a Dark Wizard [Complete] [1/4]
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If you're 42. Instead of regretting that you can't wake up age 18 again, pretend to yourself that you're 92 and you've woken up age 42 again, and that you get to magically, wonderfully have the next 50 years again. p/s : Brad Pitt 42 yo in Troy ( 2005)
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You buy a German anvil. It contains 83 moving parts and requires winding twice a day. It's forged from excellent steel, holds tolerances across all three striking faces to within three microns, includes a beautifully indexed horn-adjustment mechanism nobody asked for, and requires a proprietary 11-point spanner should you need to replace the rebound calibration bushing. It runs flawlessly for years, but one day it starts up in limp mode because the onboard anvil-management system detects that it's overdue for its 50,000-strike inspection. You search AliExpress for a Chinese anvil, and are presented with a multitude of offerings from such household-name brands as DUKXJYIBF, HDBTGMXI, AND UEJQIP. They're all priced to within a few pennies of each other, appear completely identical except for the nameplate, and obviously all came out of the same factory. You text your blacksmith friend to ask if they're legit. He tells you he got one like that from KIXJBU a few years ago, and that it's been great and a terrific deal. You thank him, but KIXJBU seems to have folded so you buy the one from UEJQIP. When it arrives, it feels suspiciously light. You scratch it and realize it's iron-plated aluminum. You buy an American anvil. It's five times the price of the competition, but it comes from a brand that your great-grandfather used to love. It comes boxed with a warranty registration postcard, twenty pages of safety instructions, assay certificate, and a regulatory slip which lists its FCC certification and ITAR registration. It looks just like your friend's KIXJBU. There's a "Made In China" sticker on the bottom. You buy a Russian anvil. It arrives coated in cosmoline, wrapped in newspaper from 1974, and weighing 40% more than advertised. The finish looks like it was machined with a shovel. The face is not flat, but somehow this does not matter. You drop it off a truck, accidentally leave it outside for six winters, and use it to straighten a bulldozer blade. It's fine. You buy a Swedish anvil. It comes flat-packed in a long cardboard box with cheerful Neo-Grotesk lettering and a line drawing of a smiling man assembling it with an Allen key. The instructions contain no words, only pictograms showing the anvil face, horn, waist, feet, and 112 identical-looking fasteners. Halfway through assembly, you discover that the pritchel hole was installed upside down, but only because you used peg B17 where you should have used peg B71. Once assembled, it is clean, stable, and works better than it has any right to. You immediately wonder whether you should have bought two. You buy a Japanese anvil. It arrives wrapped in rice paper inside a paulownia box, accompanied by a certificate bearing three generations of signatures and a photograph of the first production example being presented to the Emperor. The face has been hand-polished by a seventy-eight-year-old master whose family has made striking surfaces since the Muromachi period. You are given detailed instructions for oiling it with a cloth folded in a specific way. It is the most beautiful object you own. You never quite work up the nerve to strike it.
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How those first few minutes of the morning hit before you inevitably have to open a Microsoft application
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The mission patches for the Navy’s Artemis II recovery team are so fierce!! “Come With Me Space Cowboy”
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My eight-year-old daughter has been outlining her detailed plans to visit the moon for almost as long as she’s been able to talk. In fact, her plans usually involve us traveling together. This is only about “B”lackness or gender if YOU insist on that framing. Liberate yourself.
Everyone's the first-something-to-do-something. The first lefty Californian to summit K2. The first person with astigmatism to win a Super Bowl. Victor Glover will be one of only 28 humans ever to journey to the moon. Maybe that’s enough. [the banality of identity “journalism”]
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𓅓𓂋 𓊪𓂋𓅂𓋴𓇋𓂧𓅂𓈖𓏏…
BREAKING: A SECOND Sphinx detected in Egypt as scans hint at 'underground megastructure'
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Dinosaurs and The Bible
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Jimmy Eat World performing at Arby's last night in Daytona Beach, FL.
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I have been trying to find this for over 30 years. Kids today don’t know how good they got it.
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that's not tinnitus you are just hearing angel frequencies
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And I looked, and behold, a pale horse. And its rider's name was Death.
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Tater wishes yinz and youse a very very very Merry Christmas!🎄🎁
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Many people believe we refueled after takeoff because the aircraft leaked fuel so profusely that we had to refuel quickly. We had to refuel right after takeoff for only one reason, and it wasn’t because we leaked JP-7 fuel on the ground. Yes, the plane does leak fuel, but not enough to require refueling after takeoff. The JP-7 fuel reaches temperatures well over 300 degrees F. during Mach 3 cruise, making the fumes in each of the six fuel tanks very volatile and potentially explosive. The aircraft's metal skin approaches 400 degrees F., further increasing the volatility of the fuel in the tanks. One of our aircraft's limitations was a maximum speed of Mach 2.6 without an inert atmosphere inside the fuel tanks. INERT is a keyword. The aircraft had three liquid nitrogen Dewar flasks containing 260 liters of liquid nitrogen, located in the nose wheel well. The only way to ensure a 100 percent inert atmosphere in each fuel tank was to refuel the plane in-flight completely full of JP-7, allowing ambient air in each fuel tank to vent overboard. Once full of fuel, gaseous nitrogen would now dominate each fuel tank’s empty space above as it burned off JP-7. The nitrogen gas pressurized each fuel tank to 1.5 psi above ambient pressure and inerted the space above the heated fuel to prevent autogenous ignition. This is why we refueled after takeoff. Then we could safely accelerate beyond Mach 2.6. Rich  Graham Post by L. Sheffield
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timeline cleanse im in tears
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