@_dmh @jhlibby
I don’t have an article; it’s posts on here about the CEO’s remarks — and deleted posts from the company’s official account — that I’m referring to.
In my view, it’s a “where there’s smoke there’s fire” situation: if they’re doing something fashy behind closed doors, you’re not going to hear about it until it’s way, way too late.
I don't think so. And most Black folk in my group chats don't think so either. Centrist Dems are already tacking even further to the far-right. They moved against AOC and kept her off of committee. They are terrified of her. And rather than stop exploiting Black people and treating our rights as trading chips, even more Dems are offering trans people and their rights up too as another ill-conceived appeasement chip alongside Black people.
So no, I don't think we have learned any lessons at all. We're all still doing the same things:
* Black men are still trying to explain what we're asking for: basic human rights. And we're still being infantilized as just wanting "legalized weed and crypto," 🤦🏿♂️ or not understanding Trump's plans, or not appreciating Biden enough.
* Centrists are still saying, "We should have stanned Cheney even harder!"
* anti-DEI rhetoric is still ongoing, and being treated by Dem leadership as legitimate conversation rather than plain old racism and sexism. Dems that will ask Black women to save us again in the mid-terms, are again saying nothing now while Black women are being attacked. We're still expecting one-way solidarity.
* Police budgets are still increasing. "Tough on crime Dem," is still something that they aspire to.
In short, no tigers have changed any stripes.
I am optimistic that AOC support will continue to grow, along with support for other progressives. Centrist candidates lost, and progressive candidates won. In a "free flow of information" political landscape, centrist Dem candidates cannot win. And right-pushing newspapers have gone full mask-off. Everyone sees it now, which limits their influencing effect.
@supernovacircus Yeah, I theoretically have my Cherrytree to copy these out to.
In practice I have a large heap of unsorted bookmarks.
Although it's just occurred to me to download my bookmarks CSV file and see what's in there for me to manipulate. I'll report back!
@nazokiyoubinbou @Awks
Nazo, I think you misunderstood the post you’re replying to.
In particular, please reread this sentence more carefully [emph added]:
“It is a measure of the ••risks incurred•• with AI that corporations can't progress this tech without ••finding a way out of taking liability•• for errors.”
My standard attitude on digital signatures for anything, Git commits included, is that you should not sign anything unless you understand what you're committing to when you do so. This usually includes "what people expect from you when you sign things". Signing things creates social and/or legal liability. Do not blindly assume that liability without thought, especially if people want you to.
There are two climbing roses by her gate,
one to each side, with velvet blooms, small,
but heavily scented, suitable for soaps, salves
and potpourri. They blossom out together,
several hundred, perhaps a thousand whorls
French pink, shading to cream, the haunt
of matching shy arachnids. How tall they'd grow
she doesn't know, having twined an arch of willow
whips atop her gate, to bind them to.
In her middle years, her family took this place
and named it for the stony creek, dry
in summer, rolling through between house
and garden. A storm year came; that garden up
and vanished down a river to the sea,
leaving them three dead plum trees and a rose.
She started fresh, by the house. For the rose
she chose north, a shaded wall, and while the bush
liked a hidden spring there, for drinking,
it never cared for the paucity of light. It'd
stretch its greeny fingers roofward, up
and over; send roots drilling left and right;
make awkward shoots. Shift it one more time,
she thought. Maybe both sides of a sunny gate
she'd build, with an arch. The spot she had in view
she could muse on from her kitchen window.
Again two days of digging, and with her bow saw
made one rose two. Would they take another journey?
It seemed they would, though they'd always want water;
She'd have to remember to make the hoses reach.
She wouldn't mind if the roses wouldn't mind.
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