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Eric, a technical question...


gwalchmai
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Once asked my daughter (Then a high school student) something long forgotten now, but will never forget the reply. Asked, then added "But it's one of those which came first, chicken or the egg questions" her reply floored me;

 

""Dad, dinosaurs laid eggs for thousands of years before chickens came along"

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10 hours ago, gwalchmai said:

How does your BBS software (Invision?) handle all the wonderful graphics we put on here? Is it smart enough to convert multiple posts of the same pic to links to a single pic or does it actually store all the pics natively? Be kind, I am only an egg...

It is a basic system. Images can either be uploaded and embedded or linked to here, but the system doesn’t consolidate repetitive images. The image directories here require an enormous amount of storage, but the overhead of the image redundancy is preferable to the overhead of the processing power that would be required to manage the images to that degree. 

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11 hours ago, Huaco Kid said:

In a cloudy pickle jar on the bar at the local dive.

It all started back in 75. I was working at my uncle's lumberyard for the summer. It was HOT. That humid heat you get in GA in late July when the dogs melt under the front porch and the skeeters don't even bother to bite you. My uncle didn't care (he had A/C), the lumber had to get through. We peons use to eat lunch dinner at a little dive called The Blue Star Tavern at the corner of Piedmont Highway and Prior Station Road. The Blue Star had been around since the 20s at least. They had a five gallon Mason jar filled with pickled eggs at one end of the bar. Legend was it had been there since the place opened. The first one was free. So, at the end of an executive three five Bud dinner, I took a dare and ate one of those eggs. The experience is hard to describe; suffice it to say I wouldn't eat another one. 

The Blue Star was demolished in the 90s. Lumberyard's gone. My uncle is on the back nine with St. Andrew. My old drinking buddies are either sober or departed. BUT I'M STILL HERE. So maybe I am a little pickled. :599c64b15e0f8_thumbsup: 

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19 minutes ago, tous said:

Don't you Georgians bathe in moonshine as babies?

Until Uncle Sam decided to adulterate gasoline with moonshine (or was it the other way around?) much corn went to market in pint jars rather than bushel baskets. Recently the moonshine is also adulterated and put into containers and sold as hand sanitizer. 

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On 10/12/2022 at 9:31 PM, tous said:

Don't you Georgians bathe in moonshine as babies?

 

“Moonshine whisky makes me frisky

Makes me feel so gay

Makes the teachers and the preachers

Walk the other way…” Jack Powell, 1953

That is the first verse of a poem my father’s brother wrote back in 1953, when he was a teenager. 

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