Archive for July 2016

Strange search-engine queries (545)

You know the drill: someone looked for it, and we made note of it here.

mazda SLI 16 valve engine pictures:  Not sure if motor porn or desperate DIYer.

black male model with huge penis in locker room:  Probably not a desperate DIYer.

apple store penn square mall make appointment:  Call the Genius Bar, genius.

is hercules on the commodore 64 supposed to:  Due to memory limitations, he can muck out only one stable at a time.

used oldsmobile alero wright county minnesota:  Well, there certainly won’t be any new ones.

frolicme mr big:  Still hasn’t displaced “Rock Me, Amadeus.”

sprained ankle fetish:  I guess it would be harder for them to get away.

assholism definition:  If you need a definition, well, guess what?

sarah is testing how quickly saltwater freezes. she adds saltwater to one ice tray and plain water to another ice tray. she places each tray in the freezer and records the time when each one starts to freeze:  Meanwhile, her car has been low on coolant for 5,000 miles.

monothelitic dumbhead:  Opened for Finger Eleven back when F11 was still called “Rainbow Butt Monkeys.”

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Dough, boy

I’m not sure I believe a word of this. That said, there are thieves, and then — well, there’s this guy:

Martin Klein, 41, of Las Vegas, was arrested after a shoplifting incident turned horribly wrong. According to reports, Mr. Klein and his partner, Jerry Weis, had stolen several grocery items from the Las Vegas Walmart.

Reportedly, Klein and Weis had entered the Las Vegas Walmart at approximately 11 A.M. and headed towards the breakfast food aisle. Both of the men had taken several cans of Pillsbury Cinnamon Rolls from the aisle and headed towards the bathroom. According to CCTV footage, Klein and his partner entered the restroom and stayed inside for nearly 20 minutes before exiting.

I’m not sure you want to know how this worked out:

According to eyewitnesses, the EMT that treated Klein on the scene said the Pillsbury Cinnamon Roll can exploded due to the amount of pressure inside Klein’s anus coupled with the shock of the fall. The can and its contents were removed from Mr. Klein. Mr. Klein was treated for his injuries and then placed into the custody of Las Vegas Police. Jerry Weis, the other suspect in the shoplifting incident, was also arrested. Weis gave a bizarre statement to authorities upon his arrest: “I hope my Mr. Martini will be ok. We just wanted to spice up the love making tonight with something sweet and thought that some Cinnamon Rolls would do the trick. Well at least my darling got the Cinnabuns he wanted. I hope he has some leftovers for me to try.”

Trolling level: Grands.

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Nice arachnid

Useful household advice:

Yep.

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Females being selective and all

You probably don’t want to try this at home:

On your next date, you might not want to try vomiting bioluminescent mucus, but for male crustaceans called ostracods it works like a charm. The female ostracods like it, say some researchers.

Makes for some semi-compelling video, too, even from Other Species:

“When you’re there watching this display it’s spectacular. You can have up to nine species all in the same area displaying at similar times. I don’t know how the females do it, but they’re really good at figuring out who is their correct male,” explained Emily Ellis. She and Todd Oakley are scientists at the University of California, Santa Barbara who study ostracods in the Caribbean.

A giant squid was not available for comment.

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Rehab: day eleven

Tested out a bench for the bathtub. Easier than standing up under the shower, I suppose.

I suspect the existence of actual readers among the staff, and possibly even among the patients.

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As usual, I’m late

But you already knew the drill, right?

Remember: one of these days is Centaxday.

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In which a hat is tipped

And for good reason, too:

The previous post was #3,000 for this here blog, which makes me a “millitriathlete” of running my mouth.

Not even going to try to come up with a comparable term for this place.

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Knowing what you’re worth

And remember, it’s always more than those Ordinary Folks:

Rep. Corrine Brown (D-Fla.) said Friday that if the Department of Justice had been investigating the Orlando nightclub shooter instead of her, the 49 people killed in the massacre there last month would still be alive.
[…]

“These are the same agents that was not able to do a thorough investigation of [shooter Omar Mateen], and we ended up with 50 people dead,” Brown said. Mateen was shot and killed by police at the scene of the Orlando nightclub attack, bringing the total death toll to 50.

Brown’s lawyer echoed those sentiments. “Perhaps had it chosen to devote its resources more thoughtfully, 50 innocent people would be alive today,” Elizabeth White said, according to First Coast News.

Brown was hit with a 24-count federal indictment. One for every other victim?

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Saith W

And you know, he’s right:

Excellent call, sir.

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Rehab: day twelve

The committee met this morning, and they’re pretty much in agreement on Adequate Progress.

Brief encounter with a Therapy Dog, a friendly poodle of standard size and kindly demeanor.

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Google eats the soul

And it chews at least 32 times per bite:

I sold my soul to GoogleDocs in exchange for autosave every fifteen seconds. But I sinned against Google or something, and Chrome decided it was no longer going to open for me. Uninstalled and reinstalled, checked for viruses, nothing. So I downloaded Firefox, which is … fine. Except that it will not allow me to copy/paste in GoogleDocs with my mouse. I tried the common fixes that pop up online, making sure “dom.event.clipboardevents.enabled” is set to “true” and trying to modify “user.js,” which I don’t seem to have (or at least it’s not where anyone says it should be and Windows refuses to find it for me.) Past those, everything I see seems to throw up their hands and says to use keyboard shortcuts, which is unacceptable to me because I am 32 years old, damnit, and I’m not going to change how I do things.

So there.

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Gut reaction

This isn’t quite the British equivalent of “Here, hold my beer,” but it’s close:

A man was rushed to hospital, suffering from severe stomach pains, after eating three chicken wings doused in sauce made from what is thought to be the world’s hottest chili pepper.

Mark McNeil, 36, was hoping to be able to eat ten of the chicken wings to win a competition.

Despite being given advice at the University Hospital of North Tees for severe stomach pain, he is looking to try again in the competition which is held at The George on Stockton High Street.

The pepper in question?

The Carolina Reaper, originally named the HP22B, is a cultivar of chili pepper of the Capsicum chinense species. It is currently the hottest pepper in the world.

On the Scoville scale, where the jalapeño rates somewhere below 10,000, the Reaper checks in well beyond a million.

(Via Bayou Renaissance Man.)

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Justify your existence

And there had better be some dollar signs in that justfication, too:

Someone I follow on Twitter posted a photograph from one of those truly beautiful European libraries and made a comment about how he could “carry around more books on my phone” and it seems to me that that’s a big part of the malaise of our times — or at least, the malaise I am feeling. That the beautiful and the aesthetic are slowly being replaced by the functional but ugly, and no one seems to think that losing those aesthetics don’t in some way impoverish us. I once referred to it as “the gradual crappification of everything” — how some nice groceries close up and are replaced by wal-marts with bad management and surly employees and tvs at the end of every aisle blaring ads, how it’s no longer “profitable” for students to do anything outside of technical or STEM degrees, so the humanities are in decline or are derided, that instead of lovely places being appreciated people complain about how the space could be “better used more efficiently” or something like that.

And I admit, sometimes I feel like we will someday be surrounded by nothing but concrete-box buildings, noise, and greyness, and very few people will ask, “Why are we here? Isn’t this an unpleasant state of being?” because everyone will have been convinced that this is The New Normal and it is all we merit, because anything else is “unprofitable” and therefore not worth it. Or that it’s somehow all we deserve because we are awful. And I don’t know, yeah, humans are awful but having an awful world around us doesn’t exactly encourage us to be better.

There are times when my impending demise bothers me less than usual, and this is one of them.

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Rehab: day thirteen

As I should have suspected, I have not lost 30 pounds while in confinement. (More like 15.) Never trust a single scale if you can possibly avoid it.

The profession is apparently hiring some damnably attractive women these days.

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Eye of beef

And the back eye at that. It’s just crazy enough to work:

Scientists have come up with a solution that will reduce the number of lions being shot by farmers in Africa – painting eyes on the butts of cows.

It sounds a little crazy, but early trials suggest that lions are less likely to attack livestock when they think they’re being watched — and less livestock attacks could help farmers and lions co-exist more peacefully.

The new technique is being tested by scientists from the University of New South Wales (UNSW) in Australia, after they noticed that lions tended to back off when their prey, such as impala, looked at them.

An early trial:

[I]n a small trial in Botswana last year…when the researchers stamped painted eyes onto a third of a herd of 62 cattle, and counted the returning cows over a 10-week period, no painted cows were killed by lions, while three unpainted cows were.

Should this show up in a Chick-fil-A ad — on second thought, never mind.

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Official, it says

Subtle, it’s not.

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There’s always another obstacle

In this case:

Sometimes, that thin wire is all you have.

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40 percent less Spice

Okay, it may lack sport or poshness. Still:

[smiling at that #wannabe hashtag]

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Rehab: day fourteen

Uneventful, except for an apparent hallucination circa 1 am.

I’d explain that if I could. I can’t.

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Farging text editors

A couple of weeks back, I complained that Chromebooks didn’t have any. Further research from elsewhere:

Today I am using a Chromebook and I have a couple of really feeble editors loaded: Text and Caret. Neither one can do a proper search and/or replace. Text doesn’t even offer replace. Caret’s search and replace function only works on regular characters, it can’t find line-feeds or tabs which makes it absolutely useless, absolutely useless I tell you.

So I’m looking around and I’m not finding much, mostly a bunch of articles about the ‘top 5 moronic editors for Chrome!’ and the ilk, but I do find one cool thing: a bit of html code that will turn an empty tab on your browser into a text editor. It will look like nothing happened, but click on the empty page and you get a cursor. Start typing.

Now they tell me.

What I wound up with was EditPad.

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We, the experts

I have to remind myself of things like this now and then:

[I]n any sane world nobody would pay any attention to the opinions of completely unqualified individuals on any given topic. There’s a reason I write for Road & Track and not Men’s Health, for example, and it has something to do with the fact that I’ve literally had more racing wins in my life than I’ve eaten salads. If I started pontificating about whether a particular protein supplement built more muscle mass and got you more ripped than another one, the readers would be entirely right to point out that I am not a doctor and that I have never been seen to bench press more than 255 pounds, not even once.

I’d buy this guy a salad any day — to accompany a proper steak, of course.

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Rehab: day fifteen

There is no day fifteen. I have left the hospital — they approved — to face an uncertain future.

Scared spitless, or something similar.

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What was done

In case you were curious:

For the record, I had three screwy laminae plus one herniated disk. Prognosis, to me at least, seems unclear.

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No treble at all

I’d love to hear it, were she ready to let it out into the wild:

Meanwhile, Royal Crush continues:

Quite the conniver, her character.

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Not at all perky

And I never, ever will be:

Get well soon.

Balloons and cards offer — or sometimes command — this well-meaning sentiment to patients in the hospital. Gifts of stuffed animals and flowers are showered upon people to provide comfort and cheer. But for some patients, nothing can help them feel better after leaving the operating room. Even as they recover physically, their mental health suffers as they experience sadness, fatigue or anxiety — all of which are symptoms of post-operative depression, a commonly experienced but little-known condition.

Depression following surgery is a frequent occurrence but not nearly as frequent a topic of conversation in the medical community. It can be credited to a number of physical factors after an operation, including reactions to anesthesia and narcotic painkillers, pain and discomfort, or an undetermined biological process. The type and severity of the depression can vary depending on the type of surgery performed, but according to HCPLive, post-operative depression is reported to occur more in coronary artery bypass graft (CABG) patients who smoke, are single, experienced anxiety before the surgery, have high levels of cholesterol and angina or more severe heart disease or are undergoing another CABG. Emotional triggers of post-operative depression can be credited to disappointment in the outcome of the surgery and a response to physical changes such as stitches or scars as well as resulting feelings of vulnerability and fear.

And believe me, I know from vulnerability and fear. I technically don’t have a life-threatening ailment, so far as I can tell; but the life I used to have was threatened, and now it’s evaporated.

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I do believe it’s true

Now, about those seeds:

boneless watermelon

(Via Todd Wilbur.)

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Hops to it

Darling, you really need to drink more beer:

New research suggests hops — the flower that makes beer and gives it its zesty taste — could help fend off breast cancer. The plant has long been tied to hormone levels, with studies showing it gives men “man boobs” and soothes postmenopausal symptoms by boosting estrogen metabolism. And now, experts at the University of Illinois at Chicago claim that same process could activate chemicals that prevent tumors from developing.

Researchers applied hops extract to two different breast cell lines to monitor its effect on the cells’ estrogen metabolism. As hoped, the researchers found one potent compound in hops — 6-prenylnarigenin, or 6-PN — increased the rate of estrogen metabolism, boosting a detoxification pathway in the cells.

Yeah, I know: the Daily Mail. But hey, they know their estrogen.

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Lots of indemnity

Is this still from Double Indemnity — Fred MacMurray is the mark — the definitive picture of Barbara Stanwyck?

Barbara Stanwyck in Double Indemnity

I mean, I’m pretty sure this isn’t, though it has its charms:

Barbara Stanwyck in color

And there’s one under the break about which I shall say little:

Read the rest of this entry »

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Assault trucks

Because that’s what she does, Roberta X does the math:

[A] couple of tons of vehicle moving at 20 mph — the upper limit for Pokémon Go — is a deadly weapon, packing more kinetic energy (72,518 Joules) than the total of every bullet in a 30-round AR-15 magazine (1,767 J x 30, 53010 J); and the truck doesn’t need to be reloaded for hours.

Bans presumably to follow.

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When they were all SUVs

There was, of course, a reason for that:

In their first few decades all cars were SUV’s, meaning high ground clearance, body on frame and tractor-like gearing. The reason was simple enough, intercity highways and roads were largely paved by the end of the ‘twenties, but dirt roads lingered elsewhere. Power meant getting up hills and schlepping over rough, rutted roads. In 1926 this was understood.

Advertising of the time duly reflected these priorities:

Advertisement for 1926 Oldsmobile

The powerplant is a 40-hp 2.8-liter straight-six.

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Enough of that crap

This must be counted as a small but significant victory:

Through a dogged campaign to build toilets and educate Bangladeshis about the dangers of open defecation, the densely populated South Asian nation has managed to reduce the number of people who defecate in the open to just 1 percent of the 166 million population, according to the government — down from 42 percent in 2003.

“Once it was our habit to go to the fields or jungles. Now, it is shameful to us,” [Rashida] Begum said in Bormi, a cluster of poor farming villages just outside Dhaka, the capital. “Even our children do not defecate openly anymore. We do not need to ask them; they do it on their own.”

Bangladesh’s success in sanitation — something so far unattained by its wealthier neighbor to the south, India — came from a dogged campaign supported by 25 percent of the country’s overall development budget.

Next stop: San Francisco.

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Eventually you’ll see the light

From the “How is this possible?” files:

Researchers recently made the surprising discovery that a special class of materials called “hyperuniform materials” can be both dense and transparent. This work demonstrates a new way to control light and could lead to novel materials for many light-based applications including solar photovoltaics. These so-called “hyperuniform materials” can be made of plastic or glass that contains light-scattering particles spaced in a disordered, but not completely random, pattern.

In The Optical Society’s journal for high impact research, Optica, researchers led by Rémi Carminati, Institut Langevin, ESPCI Paris and CNRS, France, detail the transparency properties they discovered using computer simulations and outline a theory to explain the wavelengths of light for which hyperuniform materials appear transparent.

Glenn Reynolds caught on to this quickly:

I read a story when I was a kid about glass where the speed of light was measured in years per inch. Looking out a window, you saw what was on the other side of the glass years before.

Yep. Bob Shaw’s “Light of Other Days” (1966), eventually expanded into the novel Other Days, Other Eyes.

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In search of ancient artifacts

One of the grandchildren, sufficiently curious, brought a seven-inch slab of vinyl out of the back room. “Is this … a RECORD?”

Assured that it was, he begged to be allowed to play it, and we duly cranked up the 1970s stereo. (Not that it matters, but this was the song.)

He would find one more disc that interested him: Gustav Holst’s The Planets, in the 1967 Boult version, which he set to the fourth movement (“Jupiter”). Made the kid dance, it did.

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Assuming there’s a future

And at the moment, that strikes me as a hell of a lot to assume.

The circumstances aren’t quite the same, but I know the sentiment.

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Strange search-engine queries (546)

We’re back, now with 20 percent less sickness!

pebkac earliest:  The moment there existed both keyboards and chairs, there existed the possibility of a problem between them.

mikes meadows science -2016 -2015 -2014 -2013 -2012 -2011 -2010 -2009 -2008 -2007 -2006:  So you’re saying you really want 2005?

kid gets caught jacking off in class viddy:  “Viddy”? What’s with the nadsat, chelloveck?

máster and (“negocio digital” or “negocio digital” or sem or “campañas adwords” or “google adwords” or “google analytics” or mobile or “mobile analytics” or “big data” or “analitica web” or analytics):  There’s gotta be a password around here somewhere.

milfs smoking:  Your mom would not approve. Believe me, I’ve asked her.

burned esophagus:  It happens when they smoke.

erin looks down while sitting at the top of the ferris wheel. she immediately feels her heart start to pound and simultaneously experiences fear. the theory that best explains this emotional response is:  The desire not to be flattened like an IHOP short stack.

kobe bryant defense:  Send in Jeremy Lin.

life is like that:  It’s life, Jim, but not as we know it.

cuttlefish of cthulhu:  It’s bait, Jim, but not as we know it.

how thick is earth:  Considering the number of people who think it ought to be controlled by ISIS, it must be very thick indeed.

reckful blue boobs:  Actually, that sounds pretty reckless to me.

i revel in being referred to as the grand patriarch! (elevate your hands skyward if your claims of being a lothario are verifiable.)  Please sit down and take your Xanax, Mr. Trump.

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History turns an unexpected page

Never knew things went down this way:

That Sorensen guy must have had one hell of a phone.

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Let us not speak of honor

Say hello — and then say goodbye — to Qandeel Baloch, twenty-six:

Qandeel Baloch

Qandeel Baloch

And in motion:

Now the bad news:

Qandeel Baloch, a Pakistani social media star, was strangled to death by her brother in Multan, Pakistan, on Friday. The fashion model garnered fame and notoriety with her unconventional and scandalous — by Pakistani standards — public persona, and she had recently caused a stir by posting selfies with a prominent Muslim cleric, Mufti Qawi, during Ramadan. Baloch, whose real name was Fauzia Azeem, had a huge social media fanbase, with 40,000 Twitter followers and more than 700,000 on her official Facebook page.

She wrote on Facebook on the 14th:

As a women we must stand up for ourselves..As a women we must stand up for each other… As a women we must stand up for justice

I believe I am a modern day feminist. I believe in equality. I need not to choose what type of women should be. I don’t think there is any need to label ourselves just for sake of society. I am just a women with free thoughts free mindset and I LOVE THE WAY I AM. :)

#QandeelBaloch #I_Am_The_Best #Stubborn_For_My_Dreams #One_Women_Army #High_Targets #DestinationBollywood #Will_Do_Things_My_Own_Way #Just_Watch_Me

As for the perp:

On 15 July 2016, Baloch was asphyxiated by her brother Waseem while she was asleep in her parents’ house in Multan. Her death was reported by her father Azeem. It was first reported as a shooting, but an autopsy report confirmed that Baloch was murdered by asphyxiation while she was asleep, on the night of 15–16 July around 11:15p.m. to 11:30p.m.; by the time her body was found she had already been dead for fifteen to thirty-six hours. Marks on Baloch’s body revealed that her mouth and nose were pinned shut to asphyxiate her. Police called the murder an honor killing.

Real honorable of you there, Waseem.

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Because everything is on the Internet

Darnisha asks:

Yahoo Answers screenshot: Is Nathan cooksey in merced can cheating on darnisha Richardson?

I’m not sure which is worse: that she asked this in the first place, or that she asked it in Cars & Transportation/Maintenance & Repairs.

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There’s always someone more useless

Although this is getting close to the bottom, I suspect:

A central Pennsylvania man was charged Thursday after police say he sprayed fluid used to embalm a human brain on marijuana that he then smoked.

State police in Carlisle charged 26-year-old Joshua Lee Long with abuse of a corpse and conspiracy.

Court records indicate Long’s aunt contacted detectives on June 21 after finding a human brain in a department store bag under a porch while cleaning out a trailer.

And oh, it’s real, all right:

Court records indicate a coroner concluded the brain was real and that Long supposedly named it Freddy. The coroners who examined the brain believe it was most likely a stolen teaching specimen.

“Freddy”? Well, okay, that’s different.

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It had to be you, so to speak

This seems both way cool and somewhat scary:

Soon anybody with a high-resolution camera and the right software will be able to determine your identity. That’s because several technologies are converging to make this accessible. Recognition algorithms have become far more accurate, the devices we carry can process huge amounts of data, and there’s massive databases of faces now available on social media that are tied to our real names. As facial recognition enters the mainstream, it will have serious implications for your privacy.

A new app called FindFace, recently released in Russia, gives us a glimpse into what this future might look like. Made by two 20-something entrepreneurs, FindFace allows anybody to snap a photo of a passerby and discover their real name — already with 70% reliability. The app allows people to upload photos and compare faces to user profiles from the popular social network Vkontakte, returning a result in a matter of seconds. According to an interview in the Guardian, the founders claim to already have 500,000 users and have processed over 3 million searches in the two months since they’ve launched.

As one might expect, benign uses can be easily outnumbered:

FindFace is already being deployed in questionable ways. Some users have tried to identify fellow riders on the subway, while others are using the app to reveal the real names of porn actresses against their will. Powerful facial recognition technology is now in the hands of consumers to use how they please.

Still, it’s (almost) here, and we’re probably stuck with it.

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