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lehetne ilyen versenyt szervezni, a fantasy football mintájára..... vagy mi nem értek én semmihez

Felnevettem

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it's Friday let's gooo 🚀🚀🚀🚀🚀

Start

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én eddig ezt ugyan nem csináltam, viszont épp tegnap olvastam h mennyire kezd elterjedni a surveillance pricing, aminek az egyik megoldása a kp...

ti, akik ha megjön a fizu/nyugdíj, leemelitek a pénzt a számlátokról, hogy aztán készpénzzel fizessetek mindenhol:

MIÈRT?

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i have my first job interview in 4 years tomorrow and im pretty nervous, please send advice or encouragement >_<

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HM Revenue & Customs has been ordered to reveal whether it used artificial intelligence when making key judgments, after losing a legal battle over a transparency request.

A judge has told the tax office it must state if and when AI was used when deciding whether to reject tax credits to businesses carrying out research and development.

Tax expert Tom Elsbury brought a Freedom of Information request in December 2023 after he and several other tax advisers concluded AI had been used when processing R&D tax credit applications, based on HMRC’s rejection letters.

HMRC refused the request, arguing that releasing the information would help people who were attempting to incorrectly claim tax relief — a decision that was last year upheld by the Information Commissioner’s Office.

However, this week a first-tier tribunal ruled against both the ICO’s and HMRC’s decisions. The judgment, seen by the Financial Times, concluded that “the balance of the public interest lies in disclosing the information requested” and gave HMRC until September 18 to comply with the FOI request.

The court agreed with Elsbury’s claim that “HMRC’s failure either to confirm or deny it holds the requested information reinforces the belief based on indicators in HMRC correspondence dealing with R&D claims that AI is being used by HMRC officers — perhaps in an unauthorised manner — thus undermining taxpayers’ trust and confidence in HMRC’s treatment of claims”.

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“Örököltünk.” :D

@ultramegatroutman gyere mosolyogni :D

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Éreccségi 1989

az még olyan analóg korszak volt hogy a vonalas telefonra is várólista volt, szóval akkoriban már márciusban kiválasztották az érettségi tételeket, azokat páncélszekrénybe zárták egészen májusig. akkor elővették, nyomdába adták és a lezárt borítékokat futárok vitték ki az iskoláknak egy héttel a vizsgák előtt. szóval az egy régi világ volt, régi szabályokkal.

aztán 1989re minden a feje tetejére állt az országban, szétesett a közszolgáltatások java, amit lehetett elloptak, a külső-belső adósság az egeket ostromolta, az infláció száguldott és mindenki tudta, jönnie kell vmi változásnak, szóval a lovak közé volt dobva a gyeplő és az emberek nagy többsége felmondta a régi szabályok betartását, mert vele szemben sem tartotta senki sem a régi szabályokat (honnan ilyen ismerős ez?).

Budapest és néhány Pest megyei város középiskolásai (kígyóvállú kis lipcsik!) pedig vérszagot kaptak és botrányba fullasztották a magyar és matek érettségit. vhonnan kiszivárogtak a tételek meg a feladatok, és lehet hogy keveseknek volt telefonjuk, de az információ bizony végigsöpört rengeteg iskolán. állítólag vasárnap a Váci utcában is árulták a tételeket amik...tádám, hétfő reggel valósnak bizonyultak.

álljanak itt a magyar tételek (elrettentésül):

1, a gyermekmotívum jelentései József Attila költészetében szabadon választott művek alapján

2, a beszédhelyzet és az érvelés szerkezete Vörösmarty Mihály Szózat című költeményében

3, természeti és társadalmi lét Nagy Lajos Január című elbeszélésében (vagy egy Pilinszky-gondolatból kifejtett elemzés)

több tanárhoz is eljutott a füles, de a matek napján (kedden) lett tökegyértelmű a helyzet, a diákok vihorászva-ünnepelve fogadták a példákat és voltak megveszekedett idióták akik a kegyelemkettessel végigszántott 4 év után rekordidő alatt leadták a zseniálisra húzott érettségijüket. hát nem kellett nagy ész ezek után, hogy az iskolák java vérben forgó szemekkel jelentse a minisztériumnak (érzékeny lelkű olvasók kedvéért, igen, nagy levegő, akkor még létezett Oktatási Minisztérium) a gyalázatot.

formálisan nem volt igazi bizonyíték, nem volt netes előzmény amit a TEK megtalál a gépeden (ha ugye nem a szomszédban lakó nyugdíjas nénire rúgta rá az ajtót), a srácok nem kaptak számlát hogy egy darab matek érettségi 990 forint, nem bukott le nyomdász, minisztériumi takarító vagy iskolai tesitanár aki üdülőtelekre gyűjtött, de bűzlött a dolog messziről. már az esti híradóban bejelentették hogy a matek érettségit érvénytelenítik, ám az újraírás helyett az év végi jegyet teszik meg érettségi osztályzatnak.

ez miatt 1990től, azaz a következő évtől a Magyar Televizió stúdiójában állították össze a tételeket a vizsga hajnalán és élő adásban ismertették azokat. abban az évben a matek érettségi napján már egy új kormány volt hivatalban, egy új rendszerben, új választás után.

a sztorit Török Ferenc zseniális filmje, a Moszkva tér is feldolgozza. és hiába érettségiztem jóval később, esküszöm ugyanilyen terítő volt a mi szóbelinknél is a bizottság asztalánál.

ebben az országban semmi sem változik.

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Feels like Tumblr is the right audience for this one

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CLOWN IN A CORNFIELD (2025) dir. Eli Craig

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Many years ago, I was wandering around downtown Ottawa with my best friend. We ran into a friend of his who offered us some hash (it sucked), then said there was a really good house party nearby if we wanted to go. We were like, yeah, sure. So that's how we ended up at some completely fucking random person's house.

I look around to ask if my friend knows anyone here and he's simply gone, as is his friend. And this isn't some red solo cup hangout; this is a party. There's people counting out pills on the kitchen counter. I am clearly neither as cool nor as drug-savvy as the kitchen people, so I back away and instead wander aimlessly into the living room, which seems to give off more of a chill vibe.

A bunch of people are seated in a circle on the floor. One of them is fiddling with a big wad of newspaper or something. A really cute grunge girl with piercings and tattoos scoots aside to make room for me, so I sit down.

"What's that," I ask her, gesturing at the newspaper wad.

She gets a really big smile on her face. You know the smile. It's the I'm About To Watch This Innocent Soul Get High As Fuck smile. "You've never smoked a tulip?"

"What's a tulip?" I ask.

"It's like if a joint was also a bong," she replies. "You gotta try it."

"Alright," I reply, a little uncertainly. This will not be my first encounter with weed. I am more comfortable with the janky newspaper bong than I am with whatever the fuck is going on in the kitchen. Besides, this girl is really cute and I would like to have a friend here now that my existing friend has turned into vapor or been transported to the Upside-Down or whatever the hell happened to him.

I watch as one person holds the newspaper joint-bong upright and holds a lighter over the top while another gets beneath it, tilting their head back to take a puff. Apparently smoking this Cheech & Chong monstrosity is a two-person job.

"Oh," I say, looking at the fist-sized knob at the top of the wonky newspaper joint. "Yeah, it does kinda look like a tulip." Grunge girl smiles at me.

I watch as the tulip is passed around the circle, along with the lighter, and hits are cooperatively taken. It reaches grunge girl, who takes a huge puff and holds it for an extended moment before exhaling an impressive blast of smoke. She smiles expectantly and holds the tulip up for me, preparing to spark the gigantic meteor of dank that makes up its tip. By this point I have completely forgotten about my missing friend. I only care about making a good impression on grunge girl. I tilt my head back and hit the tulip like a smokestack.

It is the following morning. I am sleeping between a couch and a wall. I'm not positive that this is the same house I was just in. My memories are gone. Someone is yelling at me: "dude! Dude! Wake up, dude!"

I sit up. My mouth tastes like cigarettes. I do not smoke cigarettes. "Wha," I ask the yelling man, who I am quite confident I have never met before in my life.

"We're going on a quest," he tells me, gravely. "You have to come with us."

I look around. Neither my friend nor his friend are anywhere in sight. I also do not see grunge girl anywhere. I shrug helplessly. "Okay."

We embark from this house. I learn that the destination of this quest is Tim Horton's. This is a relief to me, as coffee and a donut sounds really fucking good right now. Somehow, the route to Tim Horton's takes us past the Governor-General's residence, which everyone else in the group loudly heckles on the way past. I do not know what the Governor-General has done to raise their ire, nor do I particularly care. I trudge along with my hands in my pockets, pleased to note that I still have my wallet, phone, and keys. I fervently wish that I could remember anything about last night. Maybe I talked to grunge girl. Maybe she's why my mouth tastes like cigarettes. The tulip tasted nothing like cigarettes.

I am asked about my politics. I voice my frustrations with corporate corruption, the pay-to-win electoral system, the lack of transparency and accountability. This is met with great approval. The guy who was yelling at me claps me on the back. I get the impression that we became friends last night. I don't recognize his face. I do not know his name and he definitely does not know mine. I behave as though we're friends anyway. We are comrades on a quest.

By the time we make it to Tim Hortons, the gaggle of stoners I'm walking with have all run out of energy and/or attention span. People order snacks and break away in pairs or solo, to call for rides or plan the day's events or just vegetate and wait for the drugs to leave their systems. I look around and find that my nameless friend has also gone to the Upside-Down. As I wash the cigarette taste out of my mouth with coffee, I unsuccessfully try to remember whether I saw grunge girl smoking tobacco at any point. I remember nothing. That tulip was so fucking powerful that it instantly sent me a whole day forward in time.

Alone in the city, I try to call my best friend and get no answer. I walk to the nearest bus stop, catch a bus most of the way home, and call up my parents to ask for a ride back. They ask where my friend is. I tell them that I have no idea; we went to a house party and I don't remember anything else.

When they pick me up from the bus station, they ask me some very safe, nonspecific questions, and seem to relax when I describe what little I can remember. It isn't until years later that I realize they were probably terrified I'd gotten rufied or something, and were so relieved to learn otherwise that they didn't even bother chiding me for smoking myself unconscious in an effort to impress a strange woman. In any case, they were probably happy to find out that I did, in fact, like girls; I suspect they had been privately wondering whether I was gay.

After getting home, I finally manage to get my best friend to answer his phone. I discover that he tried the kitchen pills, spent most of the night crossing the entire city on foot, and crashed at his cousin's house. He sounds like shit. I tell him that he should have tried the tulip, instead. He fervently agrees with me.

I never see grunge girl again.

That's okay, though. She got to see a clueless stranger get fucked the entire way up on some ungodly strain of giga-weed, and I got smiled at by a cute girl, and then I got to go on a quest. Wherever grunge girl is, I hope she's happy. I hope she's smoking the fattest fucking blunt and smiling as some kid passes out behind a couch.

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i think it's really fun when a rly specific trope is super popular in one particular medium but in other ones it's just totally unheard of. it's the time knife. visual novel players are suuuuper used to death games but many others encountered them for the first time in squid games. the other day my mom showed me all excited the summary of a super original novel she found and it was about a girl who got reincarnated as the main character in her favorite fantasy book

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“Vladimir Lenin Teaching the Nibirians How to Build a Hut”

By Kirill Firsov

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A researcher has found that more than 130,000 conversations with AI chatbots including Claude, Grok, ChatGPT, and others are discoverable on the Internet Archive, highlighting how peoples’ interactions with LLMs may be publicly archived if users are not careful with the sharing settings they may enable.

Dead1nfluence wrote a blog post about some of their findings on Sunday and shared the list of more than 130,000 archived LLM chat links with 404 Media. They also shared some of the contents of those chats that they had scraped. Dead1nfluence wrote that they found API keys and other exposed information that could be useful to a hacker.

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konzervek

Middeck locker documentation aboard Space Shuttle Challenger, STS-8.