The Octonaut

This is the other way around. There are some who want to push back the definition of “bird” to include more dinosaurs via earlier divergence. There are even a few that argue that certain conventially non-avian dinosaurs are actually from the agreed bird lineage but converged back on a bipedal dinosaur shape.

Yes quoting 90s action movies is a sure sign of utter fury. It’s all boy I wasn’t giving out to you, I was taking the piss that you won’t just say Ireland while giving about 5 clear indications that you’re from Ireland sham.

It’s a line from Jurassic Park where someone is trying to be secretive about who they are (like this person is trying not to say they are from Ireland), so the other character shouts to the rest of the restaurant their name (“Dodgson! We got Dodgson here! See, nobody cares.”).

Irish! We got an Irish here!

See? Nobody cares.

CS is Computer Science, Cyber Security is abbreviated as CyberSecs, Google it

I’m spelling it the Hiberno-Hellenic way

It think that rather than early - really early - exposure to porn turning everyone into sex-fiends, it’s actually terrifying a lot of them. What if I don’t want to gargle cum like Adriana Chechik? What if I don’t have a 10 inch cock to stuff my stepmother with?

A more optimistic reading might be that masturbating is easier, freer, quicker, and more accepted than ever before. Rather than risk an STI, pregnancy or human relationship, just crank one out and get back to work.

Birds eat the snails. Bird-eating Spiders eat the birds. Phorusrachids eat the bird-eating spiders.

You assumed the switch needs to happen on the JDK. It’s actually that we bought this software that depends on the old version with a perpetual license 18 years ago before every decided SaaS was god so we’ve got another 3 years left before ROI breaks even

Grass, famously, does not die when it’s cut. In fact to some degree, grass benefits from being grazed on, as grazers in a meadow will eat everything - leaving grass that is ready to grow back quickly, and severely harmed weeds and shrubs that will either die or be significantly set back while the grass quickly overshadows it.

Where else would you succinctly say the Weddell sea is?

Are kids today so Vine-brained they don’t understand headline syntax? The Weddell Sea just north of Antarctica.

The phone company can get your location down to a few dozen feet depending on the number of 4G (50 to 70 metres) and 5G (10-50 metres) towers around.

Given that she began as Christian Evangelical pop, then rose to fame with a song fetishising performative homoeroticism as “not what good girls do”, no. Quite far off.

In Ireland you can be invited straight to PhD. The whole process takes just as long though, and there isn’t a guarantee you’ll be awarded anything if not completed.

The waiter approached.

“Would you like to see the menu?” he said, “or would you like meet the Dish of the Day?”

“Huh?” said Ford.

“Huh?” said Arthur.

“Huh?” said Trillian.

“That’s cool,” said Zaphod, “we’ll meet the meat.”

…

A large dairy animal approached Zaphod Beeblebrox’s table, a large fat meaty quadruped of the bovine type with large watery eyes, small horns and what might almost have been an ingratiating smile on its lips.

“Good evening,” it lowed and sat back heavily on its haunches, “I am the main Dish of the Day. May I interest you in the parts of my body?”

It harrumphed and gurgled a bit, wriggled its hind quarters in to a more comfortable position and gazed peacefully at them.

Its gaze was met by looks of startled bewilderment from Arthur and Trillian, a resigned shrug from Ford Prefect and naked hunger from Zaphod Beeblebrox.

“Something off the shoulder perhaps?” suggested the animal, “braised in a white wine sauce?”

“Er, your shoulder?” said Arthur in a horrified whisper.

“But naturally my shoulder, sir,” mooed the animal contentedly, “nobody else’s is mine to offer.”

Zaphod leapt to his feet and started prodding and feeling the animal’s shoulder appreciatively.

“Or the rump is very good,” murmured the animal. “I’ve been exercising it and eating plenty of grain, so there’s a lot of good meat there.”

It gave a mellow grunt, gurgled again and started to chew the cud. It swallowed the cud again.

“Or a casserole of me perhaps?” it added.

“You mean this animal actually wants us to eat it?” whispered Trillian to Ford.

“Me?” said Ford, with a glazed look in his eyes, “I don’t mean anything.”

“That’s absolutely horrible,” exclaimed Arthur, “the most revolting thing I’ve ever heard.”

“What’s the problem Earthman?” said Zaphod, now transferring his attention to the animal’s enormous rump.

“I just don’t want to eat an animal that’s standing there inviting me to,” said Arthur, “It’s heartless.”

“Better than eating an animal that doesn’t want to be eaten,” said Zaphod.

“That’s not the point,” Arthur protested. Then he thought about it for a moment. “Alright,” he said, “maybe it is the point. I don’t care, I’m not going to think about it now. I’ll just… er […] I think I’ll just have a green salad,” he muttered.

“May I urge you to consider my liver?” asked the animal, “it must be very rich and tender by now, I’ve been force-feeding myself for months.”

“A green salad,” said Arthur emphatically.

“A green salad?” said the animal, rolling his eyes disapprovingly at Arthur.

“Are you going to tell me,” said Arthur, “that I shouldn’t have green salad?”

“Well,” said the animal, “I know many vegetables that are very clear on that point. Which is why it was eventually decided to cut through the whole tangled problem and breed an animal that actually wanted to be eaten and was capable of saying so clearly and distinctly. And here I am.”

It managed a very slight bow.

“Glass of water please,” said Arthur.

“Look,” said Zaphod, “we want to eat, we don’t want to make a meal of the issues. Four rare stakes please, and hurry. We haven’t eaten in five hundred and seventy-six thousand million years.”

The animal staggered to its feet. It gave a mellow gurgle. “A very wise choice, sir, if I may say so. Very good,” it said, “I’ll just nip off and shoot myself.”

He turned and gave a friendly wink to Arthur. “Don’t worry, sir,” he said, “I’ll be very humane.”

Are you using Google’s DNS?

Yeah, no Tim, nobody’s ever sung a song about getting to Cupertino

Hey Militant Left, just because every question directed at you assumes you are an asshole, doesn’t mean the same applies to questions to other people

… why are you putting an apostrophe in McDole? The O-apostrophe in Irish names is an anglicisation of Ó, eg. Ó Briain becomes O’Brien. Mac Dól would become MacDole/McDole.