He’s obviously annoyed because the Client didn’t specify all dimensions needed to build what they think they want, so he knows he’s in for a world of pain when he has to discuss what the original Scope of Work was after he’s done and they’re dissatisfied. I’m sorry, Jesus.

In my language it’s known as “key incontinence”, from the sudden incontinence experienced when turning the key when you get home.

“Embezzlement” - my favourite word, phonetically speaking.

Probably own a privacy-invasive phone and use it as little as possible.

Not specific enough, please add more details.

You forget that the world was B/W until the sixties, give or take.

not really sure putting a lithium bomb in the house is smart

Putting a gasoline bomb there is better?

Question: how good do you have to be at drawing to have a successful wank to your own art?

Pareidolia is playing tricks on me; I’m either seeing a huge nose sniffing up that house, or that rock has a face.

Don’t forget Richard Manuel. What a tragedy, such a talent. RIP.

And my personal hero, Levon Helm. Rest in peace.

Pirate it, and send $10 to the band.

Most members of The Band are dead now though.

Sweet man, that setup right there is next level!

Just wait until you try a long layover.

So weird. As a Scandinavian, “welfare” to me means schools, healthcare, elderly care, sick pay, paid parental leave etc., paid for by the shared burden of taxes for the benefit of everyone.

It is a word with entirely positive connotations for me.

There’s never been a time where a sane person would use a Windows server for example

I dunno if it was sane, but my employer has been deploying Windows servers in industrial environments where the “operator” are technicians (non-IT) without access to remote support. With a Windows interface at least they are usually able to navigate the system and troubleshoot when needed without Linux experience (which they never have).

Or sweeten it up with the long form “Regards of the day”.

For real though, worst is if they sign of with “Enjoy your evening” or similar. Dude, it’s 11 pm and I’m already in bed.

The story so far: Rosamund’s father has become ensnared by Mr. Shabby’s extraordinary personal magnetism. Bob and Janet have eaten Mr. Farquar’s goldfish during an Oxfam lunch, and Mrs. Elsmore’s marriage is threatened by Doug’s insistence that he is on a different level of consciousness. Louise’s hernia has been confirmed, and Jim, Bob’s brother, has run over the editor of the ‘Lancet’ on his way to see Jenny, a freelance Pagoda designer. On the other side of the continent Napoleon still broods over the smoldering remains of a city he had crossed half the earth to conquer…

I am not, but can you lend me a bob until next Thursday to mend the shed? I am expecting a postal order and can pay you back as soon as it comes. Love, Ewan.

If I had money, I promise I’d do something useful with it. Like putting up a shed in my garden.