#shell intigrated

[vybhavatechnologies-blog]

Weblogic: Article Monitoring and Controlling WebLogic Servers with WLST!

WebLogic 12c Administration Essentials

Scripting languages have recently garnered a bit of attention. With the arrival of Groovy and Jython, writing scripts merged with Java is more natural than Ant. Using XML to call Java methods has always been forced, mostly because it's hard to express flow, conditional expressions, and custom Java code in a markup language (although things have improved a lot since Ant 1.5).

Why a scripting language? Well, if I have a completely blown IDE for Java programming, using Jython or Groovy can look backwards. You can code in fewer lines (though not much less), but I want the imports written automatically. I want compiler warnings while coding and I need refactorings. Plug-ins for these languages are still outside of Java IDE's capabilities. #weblogic #wlst #weblogicadmin #weblogicserver

[justadumbasskid]

A shattered bioshepere, holes poked into the ozone layer like Swiss cheese, entire species of mammals, avians, replitles, and fish extinct, forests razed by hellfire, mountains bombed to gravel, oceans bubbling as they boiled, entire cities flattened into rubble of steel and concrete, vast flatlands sterilized into dusty, arid deserts, a hundred million cultures of a hundred million people entirely erased and buried in the horrifying visage of total annihilation.

Humanity, what was once the apex predator of planet Earth, had been driven back to its farthest corners, and now fought feverishly against the alien menace. Not at all like war heroes in old stories, fighting for honor, for king and country, for some worn-out set of ideals or religion. We were more like cornered beasts on the verge of their last breath, fighting through sheer, instinctual need for survival above all else. We didn’t even think we could win, continuing our resistance out of spite, or hatred, some of us blacked out, and woke up surrounded by alien corpses.

And now, an invitation. Alien ships descended upon our camps, unarmed, friendly emissaries who had learned our language and gifted us translators so they we could understand them, invited us into a galactic union. An invitation earned through trial by combat.

With Earth in tatters, and humanity a shell of its former self, we had little choice but to agree. To move into all corners of the cosmos as a scattered, broken species. We intigrated well. In a few decades, all alien spaceports, ships, cities, even alien armies had felt the delicate touch of humanity in its ranks. We learned languages, culture, intigrated our own spin into things. Our remaining world government even found a nice, uninhabited Gaia-like world, not such a deathworld as Earth was, but reminded us of home enough. We left Earth in droves, perhaps in some vain hope that without our influence, nature would somehow heal.

This world, these aliens, even the stars in the sky above our heads and the dirt beneath our feet, though reminders of home, of times long past, were not the same. Hatred collectively festered in our hearts, spite for lives lost, a hunger for vengeance swelled in our souls, screaming to be let out! To be shown! To be vindicated! But we waited, biding our time, waiting for the right moment.

It was a flash across the cosmos, like thunder echoing through every inhabited system. The biggest, coordinated strike in human history. We went for main infrastructure, first and foremost. Spaceports went up in flames, stations reduced to drifting scrap flitting through endless space. Warehouses and warehouses, hangers upon hangers full of alien military equipment were stolen, scrapped, or blown to Hell in our mighty fury! Infrastructure, manufacturing, storage, and military targets checked off the list...some of us turned our sights of civilian targets. We’d like to give you, dear reader, the morally superior story, where Humans showed their wrath and spared the innocent survivors, but that was not the case. With retrofitted equipment and the element of surprise, our fury knew no bounds as we descended upon cities, farmland, cultural centers, hospitals, schools. Billions dead in hours. Missiles dropping like rain upon the shattered, broken crust of a planet’s surface.

There were survivors, we left them, maybe like they had left us so long ago. With this new technology, and more experience on terraforming, we returned to our broken Terra, in an effort of help and healing. We cannot bring all that once was back, but we can try to clean up our home, at least somewhat.

Humanity has, at great cost, driven the alien invading force back. One final message is sent across all Earth comms as the invading force leaves: “Well done, worthy adversaries. You have proven yourselves capable. Welcome to the cosmos, Earth.”

[theeightwingedson-blog]

The Prince

Once I was born, I was seen as a little prince. My mom even read to me The Little Prince. I always thought that I was like him. I would wear a red towel on my back to represent my cape. I would run around the house in my red cape. Being the prince, not pretending. I was always dressed very well by mom. She made sure I was looking like a prince everyday. I was even nicknamed by my cousins as The Prince. I was unsure if it was a sarcastic and envious remark. Yet, it didn't quite matter, and it stayed in the back of my mind. At parties we, my sister and I, would be told that they, some guests, couldn't find anything to gift us because we seemed to have everything. Yet, they came and stuffed themselves with the food catered to the parties. We shared with them what we had and yet they complained. Little by little, the unwanting feeling grew and grew. Making me not wanting to celebrate anything with anyone. As the loneliness grew, so did the ivory diamond encrusted tower that was our little world. Not many were invited to join this world. No doors were made to allow others a welcome. As the years came and went, the prince grew. He was melancholy and closed off to many. He left the comfort of the that tower. He realized that the world is no longer what it had seemed to be. This made him upset at his parents. Yet, he had always been upset at his father so he became numb to him. He saw them as traitors. He was in a world where no one seemed to be intigrate, compassionate, or loving. The people he seemed to come across, they only worried about themselves. He learned quickly that many of those people were only using him. He became a distrustful person. Secluded in his own way of life. He was seen as a hard shell.