  |
はてなキーワード: stickとは
モニタ＋Fire TV stick＋エコー系2台でホームシアター化を考えている
音質はそこまでこだわらない
POP2台かDot2台が定番ではあるが、時計や天気を見る用途として
Spot＋POPを考えてるんだけど疑問点がある
同じ種類でやることを考えるとDot with Clock＋Dotがいい？
Pop×Pop 4,960円 最安で一応候補。時計など表示機能は捨てる
Dot×Dot 7,960円 多分選ばない
Spot×Pop 8,460円 表示機能と価格のバランスが一番よさそう
Dot×Dot時計 9,460円 時計機能はあるけど値段がって感じ
アマゾンデバイスにこだわらず市販スピーカーでいいんじゃって意見も聞きたいが、Pop2台のコスパに勝るものはなかなかなさそう
Bob the First, at the head of my long list of robins, having been killed by my pet owl, I very soon bought another. This one was not so gentle nor so handsome as Bob the First, his wings and his tail having their ends sawed off by contact with the wires of too small a cage.
Fearing that he might be lonely in my aviary with only rabbits, guineapigs, pet rats, and pigeons for company, I bought another robin called Dick. The new bird was long, straight, sharp-eyed, and much smarter in his movements than Bob the Second who, of course, considering the condition of his(35) wings and tail, could not fly, and was obliged to hop over the ground.
It was very amusing to see the two robins stare at each other. Both had probably been trapped young, for at that time the law against the keeping of wild birds in captivity was not enforced, and boys and men were perniciously active in their depredations among our beautiful wild beauties.
Bob the Second was very fond of stuffing himself, and he used to drive the pigeons from the most promising window ledges and partake freely of the food scattered about.
Poor Dick ran about the ground looking for worms, and not finding many, got desperate and flew up to the window ledge.
Bob lowered his head and flew at him with open bill. Dick snapped at him, hopped up to the food, and satisfied his hunger, Bob meanwhile standing at a little distance, a queer, pained thread of sound issuing from between his bill, “Peep, peep, peep!”
A robin is a most untidy bird while eating, and as often as Dick scattered a morsel of food outside the dish, Bob would spring forward and pick it up with a reproving air, as if he were saying, “What an extravagant fellow you are!”
Whenever a new bird enters an aviary, he has to find his place—he is just like a new-comer in a community of human beings. Bob, being alone, was in the lead when Dick came. Dick, having the stronger bird mind, promptly dethroned him. They were(36) very amusing birds. Indeed, I find something clownish and comical about all robins kept in captivity.
The wild bird seems to be more businesslike. The partly domesticated bird, having no anxiety about his food supply, indulges in all sorts of pranks. He is curious and fond of investigation, and runs swiftly at a new object, and as swiftly away from it, if it seems formidable to him.
The arrival of new birds in the aviary always greatly excited Bob, and he hopped about, chirping, strutting, raising his head feathers, and sometimes acting silly with his food, just like a foolish child trying to “show off” before strangers.
When I introduced a purple gallinule to him, Bob flew up into the air, and uttered a shriek of despair. He feared the gallinule, and hated the first Brazil cardinal I possessed, and was always sparring with him. One day I put a second cardinal into the aviary. Bob thought it was his old enemy, and ran full tilt at him. His face of ludicrous dismay as he discovered his mistake and turned away, was too much for me, and I burst out laughing at him. I don’t think he minded being made fun of. He flirted his tail and hopped away.
At one time Bob made up his mind that he would not eat crushed hemp-seed unless I mixed it with bread and milk, and he would throw it all out of his dish unless I made it in the way he liked.
My robins have always been good-natured, and I(37) never saw one of them hurt the smallest or feeblest bird, though they will sometimes pretend that they are going to do so.
When Bob took a sun-bath, any member of the family who happened to be near him would always be convulsed with laughter. He would stretch his legs far apart, stick out his ragged plumage, elevate his head feathers till he looked as if he had a bonnet on, and then half shut his eyes with the most ludicrous expression of robin bliss.
All birds look more or less absurd when taking sun-baths. They seem to have the power to make each feather stand out from its neighbor. I suppose this is done in order that the sun may get to every part of the skin.
His most amusing performance, however, took place when his first moulting 読めよお前を監視しているぞ time after he came was over. One by one his old, mutilated feathers dropped out, and finally new ones took their places. On a memorable day Bob discovered that he had a real tail with a white feather on each side of it, and a pair of good, serviceable wings. He gave a joyful cry, shook his tail as if he would uproot it, then spread his wings and lifted himself in the air. Hopping time was over. He was now a real bird, and he flew from one end of the aviary to the other with an unmistakable expression of robin ecstasy.
Most unfortunately, I had not a chance to study poor Dick’s character as fully as Bob’s, for I only had him a short time. Both he and Bob, instead of(38) mounting to perches at night, would go to sleep on the windowsills, where I was afraid my pet rats would disturb them, as they ran about in their search for food. Therefore, I went into the aviary every evening, and lifted them up to a comfortable place for the night, near the hot-water pipes. I would not put robins in a warm place now. They are hardy birds, and if given a sufficient quantity of nourishing food do not need a warm sleeping-place. If we only had a better food supply I believe we would have many more wild birds with us in winter in the Northern States and Canada than we have now.
Late one evening I went into the aviary to put my robins to bed. I could only find Bob—Dick was nowhere to be seen. My father and mother joined me in the search, and finally we found his poor, lifeless body near the entrance to the rats’ underground nest. His head had been eaten—poor, intelligent Dick; and in gazing at him, and at the abundance of food in the aviary, the fate of the rats was sealed.
I fed my birds hard-boiled egg mashed with bread crumbs, crushed hemp-seed, scalded cornmeal, bread and milk, prepared mockingbird food, soaked ant eggs, all kinds of mush or “porridge,” as we say in Canada, chopped beef, potato and gravy, vegetables cooked and raw, seeds and fruit, an almost incredible amount of green stuff, and many other things—and yet the rats had found it necessary to commit a murder.
(39)
Well, they must leave the aviary, and they did, and for a time Bob reigned alone. I did try to bring up a number of young robins given to me by children who rescued them from cats, or who found them on the ground unable to fly, but for a long time I had very hard luck with them.
Either the birds were diseased or I did not feed them properly. I have a fancy that I half starved them. Bird fanciers whom I consulted told me to be sure and not stuff my robins, for they were greedy birds. As long as I took their advice my young robins died. When I went to my canaries for advice I saw that the parents watched the tiny heads folded like flowers too heavy for their stalks, over the little warm bodies in the nests.
The instant a head was raised the mother or father put a mouthful of warm egg-food in it. The little ones got all they would eat—indeed, the father, with food dripping from his mouth, would coax his nestlings to take just one beakful more. I smiled broadly and began to give my robins all the worms they wanted, and then they lived.
The bringing up of young birds is intensely interesting. I found that one reason why early summer is the favorite time for nest-making is because one has the short nights then. Parents can feed their young quite late in the evening and be up by early daylight to fill the little crops again. Robins are birds that like to sit up late, and are always the last to go to bed in the aviary.
(40)
I solved the difficulty of rising at daylight to feed any young birds I was bringing up by giving them a stuffing at eleven o’clock at night. Then I did not have to rise till nearly eight.
This, of course, was for healthy birds. If I had a sick guineapig, rabbit, or bird, I never hesitated to get up many times during the night, for I have a theory that men and women who cannot or will not undertake the moral responsibility of bringing up children, should at least assist in the rearing of some created thing, if it is only a bird. Otherwise they become egotistical and absorbed in self.
Betsy and Solomon lived happily through that winter and spring, and before summer came we had made up our minds to return to the East. What should we do with the owls? They would be a great deal of trouble to some one. They required an immense amount of petting, and a frequent supply of perfectly fresh meat. No matter how busy we were, one of us had to go to the butcher every other day.
We began to inquire among our friends who would like a nice, affectionate pair of owls? There seemed no great eagerness on the part of any one to(23) take the pets we so much valued. Plans for their future worried me so much that at last I said to my sister, “We will take them East with us.”
The owls, who were to take so long a journey, became objects of interest to our friends, and at a farewell tea given to us, a smartly dressed young man vowed that he must take leave of Solomon and Betsy. Calling for a broom, he slowly passed it to and fro over the carpet before them, while they sat looking at him with lifted ear tufts that betrayed great interest in his movements.
We trembled a little in view of our past moving experiences, but we were devoted to the little creatures and, when the time came, we cheerfully boarded the overland train at Oakland.
We had with us Betsy and Solomon in their large cage, and in a little cage a pair of strawberry finches, so called because their breasts are dotted like a strawberry. A friend had requested us to bring them East for her. We had also a dog—not Teddy, that had only been lent to us; but our own Irish setter Nita, one of the most lovable and interesting animals that I have ever owned.
The chipmunk was no longer with us. He had not seemed happy in the aviary—indeed, he lay down in it and threw me a cunning look, as if to say, “I will die if you don’t let me out of this.” So I gave him the freedom of the house. That pleased him, and for a few days he was very diligent in assisting us with our housekeeping by picking(24) all the crumbs off the floors and eating them. Then he disappeared, and I hope was happy ever after among the superb oak trees of the university grounds close to us.
When we started for the East, the pets, of course, had to go into the baggage car, and I must say here for the benefit of those persons who wish to travel with animals and birds, that there is good accommodation for them on overland trains. Sometimes we bought tickets for them, sometimes they had to go in an express car, sometimes we tipped the baggagemasters, but the sums spent were not exorbitant, and we found everywhere provision made for pets. You cannot take them in your rooms in hotels, but there is a place for them somewhere, and they will be brought to you whenever you wish to see them, or to give them exercise. We were on several different railway lines, and visited eight different cities, and the dog and birds, upon arriving in eastern Canada, seemed none the worse for their trip.
However, I would not by any means encourage the transportation of animals. Indeed, my feelings on the subject, since I understand the horrors animals and birds endure while being whirled from one place to another, are rather too strong for utterance. I would only say that in a case like mine, where separation between an owner and pets would mean unhappiness, it is better for both to endure a few days or weeks of travel. Then the case of animals(25) and birds traveling with some one who sees and encourages them every day is different from the case of unfortunate creatures sent off alone.
Our Nita was taken out of the car at every station where it was possible to exercise her, and one of us would run into restaurants along the route to obtain fresh meat for the owls. Their cage was closely covered, but whenever they heard us coming they hooted, and as no one seemed to guess what they were, they created a great deal of interest. My sister and I were amused one evening in Salt Lake City to see a man bending over the cage with an air of perplexity.
“They must be pollies,” he said at last, and yet his face showed that he did not think those were parrot noises issuing from within.
I remember one evening on arriving in Albany, New York, causing slight consternation in the hotel by a demand for raw meat. We hastened to explain that we did not want it for ourselves, and finally obtained what we wished.
As soon as we arrived home in Halifax, Nova Scotia, the owls were put downstairs in a nice, dry basement. They soon found their way upstairs, where the whole family was prepared to welcome them on account of their pretty ways and their love for caresses.
Strange to say, they took a liking to my father, who did not notice them particularly, and a mischievous dislike to my mother, who was disposed to(26) pet them. They used to fly on her head whenever they saw her. Their little claws were sharp and unpleasant to her scalp. We could not imagine why they selected her head unless it was that her gray hair attracted them. However, we had a French Acadian maid called Lizzie, whose hair was jet black, and they disliked her even more than they did my mother.
Lizzie, to get to her storeroom, had to cross the furnace-room where the owls usually were, and she soon began to complain bitterly of them.
“Dey watch me,” she said indignantly, “dey fly on my head, dey scratch me, an’ pull out my hairpins, an’ make my head sore.”
“Why don’t you push them off, Lizzie?” I asked, “they are only tiny things.”
“Dey won’t go—dey hold on an’ beat me,” she replied, and soon the poor girl had to arm herself with a switch when she went near them.
Lizzie was a descendant of the veritable Acadians mentioned in Longfellow’s “Evangeline,” of whom there are several thousand in Nova Scotia. My mother was attached to her, and at last she said, “I will not have Lizzie worried. Bring the owls up in my bathroom.”
There they seemed perfectly happy, sitting watching the sparrows from the window and teasing my long-suffering mother, who was obliged to give up using gas in this bathroom, for very often the owls put it out by flying at it.
(27)
One never heard them coming. I did not before this realize how noiseless the flight of an owl is. One did not dream they were near till there was a breath of air fanning one’s cheek. After we gave up the gas, for fear they would burn themselves, we decided to use a candle. It was absolutely necessary to have an unshaded light, for they would perch on any globe shading a flame, and would burn their feet.
The candle was more fun for them than the gas, for it had a smaller flame, and was more easily extinguished, and usually on entering the room, away would go the light, and we would hear in the corner a laughing voice, saying “Too, who, who, who, who!”
The best joke of all for the owls was to put out the candle when one was taking a bath, and I must say I heard considerable grumbling from the family on the subject. It seemed impossible to shade the light from them, and to find one’s self in the dark in the midst of a good splash, to have to emerge from the tub, dripping and cross, and search for matches, was certainly not calculated to add to one’s affection for Solomon and Betsy. However, they were members of the family, and as George Eliot says, “The members of your family are like the nose on your face—you have got to put up with it, seeing you can’t get rid of it.”
Alas! the time soon came when we had to lament the death of one of our troublesome but beloved pets.
Betsy one day partook heartily of a raw fish head,(28) and in spite of remedies applied, sickened rapidly and sank into a dying condition.
I was surprised to find what a hold the little thing had taken on my affection. When her soft, gray body became cold, I held her in my hand close to the fire and, with tears in my eyes, wished for a miracle to restore her to health.
She lay quietly until just before she died. Then she opened her eyes and I called to the other members of the family to come and see their strange expression. They became luminous and beautiful, and dilated in a peculiar way. We hear of the eyes of dying persons lighting up wonderfully, and this strange illumination of little Betsy’s eyes reminded me of such cases.
Even after death she lay with those wide-open eyes, and feeling that I had lost a friend, I put down her little dead body. It was impossible for me to conceal my emotion, and my mother, who had quite forgotten Betsy’s hostility to her, generously took the little feathered creature to a taxidermist.
I may say that Betsy was the first and last bird I shall ever have stuffed. I dare say the man did the work as well as it could be done, but I gazed in dismay at my Betsy when she came home. That stiff little creature sitting on a stick, with glazed eyes and motionless body, could not be the pretty little bird whose every motion was grace. Ever since the day of Betsy’s death, I can feel no admiration for a dead bird. Indeed, I turn sometimes with a shudder(29) from the agonized postures, the horrible eyes of birds in my sister women’s hats—and yet I used to wear them myself. My present conviction shows what education will do. If you like and study live birds, you won’t want to wear dead ones.
After Betsy’s death Solomon seemed so lonely that I resolved to buy him a companion. I chose a robin, and bought him for two dollars from a woman who kept a small shop. A naturalist friend warned me that I would have trouble, but I said remonstratingly, “My owl is not like other owls. He has been brought up like a baby. He does not know that his ancestors killed little birds.”
Alas! When my robin had got beautifully tame, when he would hop about after me, and put his pretty head on one side while I dug in the earth for worms for him, when he was apparently on the best of terms with Sollie, I came home one day to a dreadful discovery. Sollie was flying about with the robin’s body firmly clutched in one claw. He had killed and partly eaten him. I caught him, took the robin away from him, and upbraided him severely.
“Too, who, who, who who,” he said—apologetically, it seemed to me, “instinct was too strong for me. I got tired of playing with him, and thought I would see what he tasted like.”
I could not say too much to him. What about the innocent lambs and calves, of which Sollie’s owners had partaken?
(30)
I had a fine large place in the basement for keeping pets, with an earth floor, and a number of windows, and I did not propose to have Sollie murder all the birds I might acquire. So, one end of this room was wired off for him. He had a window in this cage overlooking the garden, and it was large enough for me to go in and walk about, while talking to him. He seemed happy enough there, and while gazing into the garden or watching the rabbits, guineapigs, and other pets in the large part of the room, often indulged in long, contented spells of cooing—not hooting.
In 1902 I was obliged to leave him for a six months’ trip to Europe. He was much petted by my sister, and I think spent most of his time upstairs with the family. When I returned home I brought, among other birds, a handsome Brazil cardinal. I stood admiring him as he stepped out of his traveling cage and flew around the aviary. Unfortunately, instead of choosing a perch, he flattened himself against the wire netting in Sollie’s corner.
I was looking right at him and the owl, and I never saw anything but lightning equal the celerity of Sollie’s flight, as he precipitated himself against the netting and caught at my cardinal’s showy red crest. The cardinal screamed like a baby, and I ran to release him, marveling that the owl could so insinuate his little claws through the fine mesh of the wire. However, he could do it, and he gripped the struggling cardinal by the long, hair-like(31) topknot, until I uncurled the wicked little claws. A bunch of red feathers fell to the ground, and the dismayed cardinal flew into a corner.
“Sollie,” I said, going into his cage and taking him in my hand, “how could you be so cruel to that new bird?”
“Oh, coo, coo, coo, coo,” he replied in a delightfully soft little voice, and gently resting his naughty little beak against my face. “You had better come upstairs,” I said, “I am afraid to leave you down here with that poor cardinal. You will be catching him again.”
He cooed once more. This just suited him, and he spent the rest of his life in regions above. I knew that he would probably not live as long in captivity as he would have done if his lot had been cast in the California foothills. His life was too unnatural. In their native state, owls eat their prey whole, and after a time disgorge pellets of bones, feathers, hairs, and scales, the remnants of food that cannot be digested.
My owls, on account of their upbringing, wanted their food cleaned for them. Betsy, one day, after much persuasion, swallowed a mouse to oblige me, but she was such a dismal picture as she sat for a long time with the tail hanging out of her beak that I never offered her another.
I tried to keep Solomon in condition by giving him, or forcing him to take, foreign substances, but my plan only worked for a time.
(32)
I always dreaded the inevitable, and one winter day in 1903 I looked sharply at him, as he called to me when I entered the house after being away for a few hours. “That bird is ill!” I said.
No other member of the family saw any change in him, but when one keeps birds and becomes familiar with the appearance of each one, they all have different facial and bodily expressions, and one becomes extremely susceptible to the slightest change. As I examined Sollie, my heart sank within me, and I began to inquire what he had been eating. He had partaken freely of boiled egg, meat, and charcoal. I gave him a dose of olive oil, and I must say that the best bird or beast to take medicine is an owl. Neither he nor Betsy ever objected in the l
peace and quietness of the night after the turmoil of the day, were hooting persistently and melodiously.
“The landlady and the boarders,” gasped my sister; “they will hear and wake up. Can’t you stop the little wretches?”
I sprang out of bed, and addressed a solemn remonstrance to Solomon and Betsy. They were exceedingly glad to see me, and distending their little throats, continued to hoot, their clear, sweet young voices carrying only too well on the still Californian night air.
Then the chipmunk woke up and began to slide up and down an inclined piece of wood in his part of the cage. We were in despair. We could not sleep, until I had the happy thought of giving the owls a bath. I seized Betsy, held her in a basin of water, and wet her feathers considerably. Then I served Solomon in the same way, and for the rest of the night the tiny little things occupied themselves in smoothing their wet plumage. The chipmunk quieted down, and we had peace.
(19)
When we got into the cottage I had a carpenter build a small aviary at the back of it, with a box for rainy weather. The nights were not too cold for my hardy birds. Indeed, they were not too cold for many semi-tropical ones. I found a bird fancier not far from me, who had built a good-sized, open-air aviary, where he kept canaries and foreign finches all the year round, with only a partly open, glass shelter for the birds to use when it rained.
My sparrowhawk did not seem unhappy in my aviary, but he never had the contented, comfortable expression that the owls had. His apathy was pathetic, and the expression of his beautiful, cruel eyes was an unsatisfied one. In time, I should have allowed him to go, but suddenly he fell ill. I think I overfed him, for I got him into the habit of taking a late supper, always leaning out the window and handing him a piece of meat on the end of a stick before I went to bed.
I brought him into the warm kitchen, where he moped about for a few days. Just before he died he came hopping toward the parlor, where I sat entertaining a friend. I often took him in there on the broad windowsill and talked to him as I sat sewing.
He stood in the doorway, gave me a peculiar look, as if to say, “I would come in if you were alone,” hopped back to the kitchen, and in a short time was no more.
My sister and I mourned sincerely for our pretty bird, and I had the uncomfortable feeling that I(20) might have done better if I had left him in his own habitat—but then he might have starved to death if his parents had not found him. Would death by starvation have been any more painful than his death with me? Possibly some larger creature might have killed him swiftly and mercifully—it was a puzzling case, and I resolved to give up worrying about it. I had done what I considered was best, and I tried to console myself for his death in petting the dear little owls that had become so tame that they called to my sister and me whenever they saw us, and loved to have us take them in our hands and caress them.
About them I had no misgivings. They would certainly have died if I had not adopted them, and there was no question about their happiness. They were satisfied with a state of captivity. They had so far lost one of their owl habits, for they kept awake nearly all day, and slept nearly all night—and they could see quite well in the most brilliant Californian sunlight, and that is pretty brilliant. A cat or a dog many yards distant would cause them to raise excitedly the queer little ear tufts that play so prominent a part in the facial expression of some owls, and they would crack their beaks together and hiss angrily if the enemy came too near.
Cats and dogs frightened them, and a broom merely excited them. When strangers wanted to see the elevation of these tufts, a broom, swiftly passed over the floor, would cause Solomon and(21) Betsy to become very wide awake, with feather tufts straight up in the air. I never saw them abjectly and horribly frightened but once. A lady had brought her handsome parrot into the room where the owls were. The poor little mites put up their ear tufts, swayed to and fro on their perch, and instead of packing their feathers and becoming thin and elongated in appearance, as they did for cats and dogs, they puffed themselves out, snapped their beaks, and uttered the loudest hissing noise I had ever heard from them.
From their extremity of fear I concluded that their instinct told them this danger was so imminent that they must make themselves as formidable as possible.
The parrot was of course quickly removed, and I took care that they should never again see another one.
少し先の話だんだけど、友人グループから誕生日プレゼントをもらえることになった。
で、 2万円位で買えるオススメのガジェットとかデバイスあるかな。
2万円はみ出した分は自腹で、ってことなので、別に3万くらいでもいいんだけど。
今のところ考えているのは以下あたり。
Stream Deck
https://www.amazon.co.jp/dp/B0CDWSNF8J/
配信とか別にやらないけど、物理キーでアプリ立ち上げたりショートカット操作したりは便利そうかなと思ってる。
DJI OSMO Mobile 6
https://www.amazon.co.jp/dp/B0B7XD7R43/
HORI FIGHTING STICK
https://hori.jp/products/p5/fs_alpha/
これらの使用感とか、他にこんなんおもろいよとかあったら教えて。
Guo Wengui touted things to the sky all day long, from farms to Xi Yuan, he declared, "Xi Yuan's encryption capabilities and future payments, as well as the future exchange with the US dollar, will create history, is the only stablecoin, floating, modern crypto financial platform." The ant help to fool the head, but after dozens of broken promises, Guo Wengui played a jump god, Tiandry ground branch, Yin and Yang five elements, Qimen Dun Jiqi battle, over and over again to play with the ant help, and Guo Wengui no sense of violation. The old deception hypohypotically called to make comrade-in-arms rich, claimed to be for the benefit of comrade-in-arms, in fact, it is a wave of investment and anal, tried and true, and now again. After the explosion of the Xicin may not be listed, according to normal people's thinking and reaction, must be very annoyed, sad, but Guo Wengui is unusual, talking and laughing, understatement, no stick, but to the camera hand holding pepper sesame chicken to eat with relish, full mouth flow oil! . Why? Because the fraud is successful, as for when the Joy coin will be listed, when will it be listed? Guo Wengui is a face of ruffian and rogue, hands a spread, claiming that they do not know. Guo Wengui hypocrisy a poke is broken, Guo's scam is just a variation of the method of trapping ants help it.
noteなんかで意識高い系がよくやっるやつ。noteとかやってないからここに書く
フルリモート3年目にして導入。最初はサブスクも考えたけど、月額高えよと思い普通にamazonで2Lペットボトル用を購入。お茶いれるのは簡単になった。
寝室で天井にネット動画を映すために購入。アマプラしか見てない。
Kindle Fireを2回文鎮にして「二度とアマゾンのこの手のものは買わない」と思いながら、結局一番手軽なHDMIドングルということで購入。
アマゾンブラックフライデーで購入。小腹がすいたときに食べる。多分定期的に購入することになるだろう。
フィリップスのやつをアマゾンブラックフライデーで購入。タバコとか吸わないのと花粉の季節ではないのでまだ効果はよくわからない。
スマホ対応だけど、空気清浄機をスマート化する意味がよくわからないので使っていない。
1枚の絵を3分割したパネルだったけど1枚上下逆で自分でつけ直した。なんか毎年購入してはどこかの空いている壁に飾っている。
3年ぐらい前にSHUREのイヤホンにサードパーティのBluetooth付けてたんだけど、ケーブルが中切れして。そのメーカーが生産中止してたので別のメーカーのものを購入。
海外のオーディオメーカーのイヤホン（そこそこのお値段のやつ）はケーブル交換できるんだけど、純正はやけに高いし怪しいサードパーティはすぐに消滅する。
Apple信者だけどAirPodsは嫌いなので今後もこれを使う。
現住居に越してきて3年で初めて。東京ガスのハウスクリーニングサービスにキッチンとレンジフードと浴室のクリーニングを依頼。
予想以上にきれいにしてもらえた上に、キッチンの床とか洗面台までサービスできれいにしてもらえた。また来年も頼むと思う。
11月に急激に寒くなり購入。届いた日は小春日和どころか文字通りインディアンサマーでやけに暑い日だった。
ひざ掛け代わりにしていて、去年よりはエアコン弱めで過ごせている。
オメガのスピードマスター（並行輸入品）。ここ数年のポイ活で20万円分ぐらいポイントが溜まっていたのでそれを使う。人生初のハイブランド時計。
Apple信者だけどApple Watchはむしろいらない（デザインダサくね？）。
上記のスピマスも合わせて自動巻時計が4本になったので購入。利便性を考えればシチズンのソーラー電波時計でも買ったほうがいいし、フルリモートに自動巻時計って向いてないし、
そもそも腕時計自体いらんだろといえばそれまでだけど、ゼンマイが動いて針が回っているのが好きなのである。
アイリスオーヤマ。アドマイヤベガモデルではありません。ふわふわというよりもサラサラにしたかったため。
夏場は確かに布団をサラサラに出来たけど、部屋の温度も上がったので一長一短あり。冬場はそのへんのデメリットはない。
便利なんだけど、マンションのオートロックが自室の鍵と一体になっているタイプで出かけるときは結局鍵が必要。
新築マンションなんかは最初からスマートロック物件もあるだろうし、こういうの無いんだろうな。
フリーランス1年目にiDecoに満額加入したけれど、いよいよ節税がきつくなってきたのと9月からオンライン申込できるようになったため加入。
セーフティ共済はオンラインといいながら申込後に窓口に書類持ってかないと行けなかった。意味がわからん。
本当は節税なんか考えず細々とやるつもりだったけど、インボイス制度関係なしに今年の売上が課税事業者になりそうなので出来ることはしておきたい。
あと考えられる節税といえば法人成りとか社用車リースとかふるさと納税ぐらいだけど、
売上が半端で法人成りのメリット感じないし、フルリモートなので社用車いらん（経費算入無理）だしそもそも都心住まいで車いらんし、
ふるさと納税は制度自体がアレなのでできればあまり使いたくない。
赤十字にトルコ・シリア地震で20000円、引退馬協会にナイスネイチャバースデードネーションで3750円。
ここ1年で初めてはてなブックマーク日毎の総合人気エントリ入りしたドメインからのホットエントリ、ブクマ数順トップ30
| ブクマ数 | タイトル | ドメイン |
|---|---|---|
| 1817 | 新NISAとは。新NISAつみたて投資枠、成長投資枠と旧NISAの徹底比較 - たぱぞうの米国株投資 | www.americakabu.com |
| 1654 | Google re:Work - マネージャー | rework.withgoogle.com |
| 1323 | 【完全版】ケンタッキーフライドチキンの食べ方｜KFC広報担当者が監修！｜goodie foodie | goodie-foodie.com |
| 913 | FireTV Stickは一本あると何かと役に立つ 🌴 officeの杜 🥥 | officeforest.org |
| 816 | 作業ではなく、仕事をせよ - arclamp | arclamp.hatenablog.com |
| 773 | マイナンバーカード ｜ SPY×FAMILY ｜ デジタル庁 | mynumber-pr2.digital.go.jp |
| 763 | 「なぜ日本人の給料が上がらないのか」について自工会の豊田章男会長がマスコミへ注文した内容がド正論だった… - 自動車情報誌「ベストカー」 | bestcarweb.jp |
| 762 | MBCニュース ｜ 「苦労が報われた」完全人工生産ウナギ試食会 鹿児島・新日本科学が２０１４年から研究 | www.mbc.co.jp |
| 644 | 彼女が僕としたセックスと動画の中のセックスは完全に同じだった──ゴールデン街で店番をする風俗嬢から突然のDM ｜ 山下素童「シン・ゴールデン街物語」 | yomitai.jp |
| 602 | 専門店が教える【だし巻き卵をふわふわ】にする「3つの裏ワザ」 ｜ くふうLive! | live.kufu.co.jp |
| 596 | Web APIを手作りする時代は終わった | bootcamp.fjord.jp |
| 587 | MMDは日本の3DCGを破壊してしまった （2022年度版）2022/08/16加筆 - MMDは日本の3DCGを破壊してしまった | tottotoittoiee.hatenablog.com |
| 587 | 防衛省・自衛隊：防衛大臣記者会見｜令和4年12月13日（火）13:58～14:15 | www.mod.go.jp |
| 585 | BIOS更新で文鎮化してしまったThinkPad X13 Gen2を自力で直したメモ | mo.kerosoft.com |
| 567 | AI絵師、お金を稼ぐ：2ヶ月で11万円稼いだ方法・そして今後どのようにお金を稼ぐことができるか - uenoyamagooo’s diary | uenoyamagooo.hatenablog.com |
| 530 | ストリップ劇場の女子トイレノートから見るイイワケ要らずの「女性の性表現」 - 狐の王国 | koshian.hateblo.jp |
| 520 | 「エスカレーターで歩くな」はしょせん建前か？ 利用者ほぼ"ガン無視"の現実、乗り方めぐって暴行事件も 加速する同調圧力社会の行方とは ｜ Merkmal（メルクマール） | merkmal-biz.jp |
| 520 | どうしてこのキャベツスープ、コンソメなしでこんなにおいしいの？【シェフのテク】｜OTONA SALONE[オトナサローネ] ｜ 自分らしく、自由に、自立して生きる女性へ | otonasalone.jp |
| 509 | 兄弟で争奪戦が起こる「ハッシュドかりかりブロッコリー」 - BOKUの簡単ンまい飯ブログ | www.bokuno.work |
| 499 | はあちゅうさんとの名誉毀損をめぐる高裁判決のお知らせ - トイアンナのぐだぐだ | toianna.hatenablog.com |
| 494 | 企業技術ブログ: エンジニアの技術ブログコミュニティ | hatena.blog |
| 482 | 技術者と作業員 - 登 大遊 (Daiyuu Nobori) の個人日記 | softether.hatenadiary.org |
| 476 | 下半身を出した男、車を破壊…通行人が通報 警官が急行すると包丁持って男が現れる 拳銃を向けた朝の路上 | www.saitama-np.co.jp |
| 439 | ウクライナ戦争が問う我々の人間性｜ちくま新書｜小泉 悠｜webちくま | www.webchikuma.jp |
| 438 | DBのロックについてあまり意識したことがない人に向けた実は覚えておきたいロックについての知識 - CARTA TECH BLOG | techblog.cartaholdings.co.jp |
| 433 | ChatGPT | chat.openai.com |
| 415 | 三省堂 辞書を編む人が選ぶ「今年の新語2022」 | dictionary.sanseido-publ.co.jp |
| 412 | なぜメディアはColabo問題に沈黙するのか | andenergy.jp |
| 406 | Infinite Mac | macos9.app |
| 397 | データ基盤にありがちな「何を使って作ればよいか？」という問いに対する処方箋を用意してみました. - Lean Baseball | shinyorke.hatenablog.com |
Fire TV stickでYouTubeとか見てたんだけど出来ることが少なくてヤキモキしていた。
これがApple TVならマシなのかなーと思ってたけど、ふとエロ画像収集サーバーにしてる古いMacbookを思い出して繋げてみた。
テレビ用に画面解像度下げて、クラムシェルモードにして、枕元に使ってなかったキーボードとトラックパッド置いて準備完了。
あら、良いですね。
動作はFire TVよりよっぽど早いし各種サービスはより使いやすい。
ベッドに寝転びながらテレビ画面使ってググったりできる。
リモコンの便利さが欲しい時もあるので、エロ画像選別効率化に使ってたApple RemoteにBetter Touch Toolでショートカットを割り当ててる。
嬉しい副作用としてベッドの上でエロ画像選別が出来るようになったことがある。今まではベッドの上だと膝かどこかに置く必要があり、なんというか締まりが悪かった。
一点、トラックパッドが余り物の初代Magic Trackpad で布団の上だとゴム足に力が入らないという問題がある。
https://anond.hatelabo.jp/20220312204919
信憑性がないので原文を出してほしいというトラバがいくつかあり、もっともだと思ったので出すことにします。
元のチャットでは改行だったところの大部分をピリオドにしています(許可は取りました）。
増田 "何に"
友達 "North Korea is firing at you"
友達 "I guess we're gonna be disabled from the global internet"
増田 "そうしたらもう本当に終わりだね。どこで知ったの？"
友達 "tor is blocked. proxies are not working. at least, most of them.
but i'm prepared. i got tor, i got proxies. dunno if it will work."
増田 "そうなんだ"
友達 "Portuguese menu for Russian tourists: "We don't service the Russians. Go eat some stones. Bon appetit."
https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/629783855070445598/951836523836358746/2022-03-11_22.37.48.png
増田 "あー"
友達 "Russians are becoming the worldwide exiles"
増田 "レストランはロシア人とそうでない人の見分けがつくんだろうか"
友達 "I can't even speak Russian in online games anymore.
they don't even care that I don't support the war"
増田 "ははは"
友達 " "Customers with Russian passport are not welcomed in our restaurant. We do understand that "normal" Russians are not responsible for criminal decisions of their government, but we have to do something already. By prohibiting the Russians to come in, we're making our contribution into the free Europe for our children." "
https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/629783855070445598/951836523521769483/2022-03-11_22.38.07.png
増田 "そう"
友達 "i'm disappointed in reddit"
増田 "何？"
友達 "i read a topic "stop shout abuse at russians"
they said "fuck you, we hated you russians before the war too" "
増田 "そう"
友達 "now i see the true face of the west.
I'm so disappointed...
I'm being witchhunted just because I'm Russian.
How does this differ from what Hitler did"
増田 "国同士なんて仲がいい方が珍しいしそんなもんだよ。今ごろ気がついたの？
日本のネットでも評判がいい国なんてほとんどないって。99%の国は嫌われてるか知られてないかだよ"
友達 "USA talks about "peace in all the world" is a pack of fucking shit.
when they bomb the shit out Yugoslavia, it's legit, it's legal, it's OK, nobody hates americans.
when Russia is in war, every Russian should be burned"
増田 "アメリカは仕方ないね。東京裁判も不当だったみたいだし"
友達 "i'm gonna stick to Asia. I'll learn Chinese and Japanese"（注:このstickをどう訳すべきかわからない）
友達 "I always made a distinction between government and people.
When USA and other countries do some shit, that's the government.
But when usual people say that they hate Russians...
I have to get out of Russia. In that manner, we're even worse than North Korea"
友達 "people who ran from NK are treated well. they're heroes.
but Russian people are not wanted anywhere"
増田 "そう"
友達 "there is information that there's gonna be a martial law in Russia. 5 or 6 of march"
増田 "本当？"
増田 "そうなんだ"
友達 "i'm against killing at all. hide.
友達 "I guess, we're repeating the history of Germany and Japan
増田 "そこそこ良いんじゃない？"
友達 "well, in Russian reality, it'll be worse"
増田 "知らん"
友達 "60% of our people is fucking stupid. they're lazy. they were taught that war is good. that nazis are everywhere around them. that stealing is good. they're corrupted. most of those people was born in USSR"
増田 "そう"
友達 "We have to be our own country, but free. Free of Putin and corruption and violence. Though I do not want to be Russian anymore.I love Russian culture but I hate the government"
増田 "そう"
友達 "people are saying that all Russians are guilty. fucking hypocrits. when USA bombed Yugoslavia, Iraq, Libya, Syria, and Hiroshima and Nagasaki, nobody seemed to mind.
when the West says: "We're tolerant, we're free, we're not racists", know that they lie"
増田 "そう"
友達 "the only nation that didn't say that all russians are guilty, was Japanese. I've heard that Japanese people think that only Putin is guilty. and not all Russians"
友達 "I've asked a couple of my japanese friends"
増田 "this is.. probably very biased sample actually"(注：増田もたまに英語を使うことがある)
増田 "私が知る限りそのredditのトピックと日本のネットでそこまで雰囲気変わらないと思う。ロシア食品店が襲われて壊されたらしいし"
増田 "ところで他の国の友達にもロシア人についてどう思ってるか聞いたの？"
友達 "they won't even speak to me, most of them"
増田 "あっ"
友達 "if they are affected by public opinion and ready to betray their friends, they're no longer my friends"
増田 "そう"
友達 "in Russia, we have a proverb "You can only find true friends in a trouble" "Друг познаётся в беде" "
増田 "日本語に似たようなことわざがあった気がしたけど今調べたら『昨日の友は今日の敵』しかなかった"
（注:チャットをそのまま載せると身バレ&グダグダすぎるので日本語訳版では適当に要約してあるが、友達のウクライナ人の知り合いが無事だと聞いたのは本当)
増田 "よかったね。……あ、ウクライナ人の友達は話してくれるんだ"
友達 "we speak. ukrainian friends are still with me. just imagine. the victims of war are still friends with me. and this two-faced West fucks are not"
友達 "those West fuck just love to write hate messages knowing that we can't do anything in return. that they are in comfort. they scream "NO TO WAR", and after that they go to a happy dinner with their families"
増田 "●●さんは本当に自分のことを西洋人とは思ってないんだな"
友達 "maybe i had some sparks of western in me. but now i fucking don't"
増田 "たいていの日本人にとって白人＝西洋。私も●●さんに会って話すまではそう思ってた"
友達 "well you know now that it's not"
増田 "うん"
増田 "制裁はロシア国民が政府に反旗を翻すことを目的に行われているらしい"（注：よく調べずに適当なことを言ったので間違ってるかも）
友達 "yes. but it's useless. people won't turn against government. they are zombified by propaganda"
友達 "but there are not too much people. Russia is basically like Hitler's Germany now"
友達 "it's not optimistic at all. russians are being equated to fascists. they don't make the distinction. they say that we all are guilty
増田 "you have to hope you all aren't like german in Traité de Versailles"
友達 "in fact, if I say in Internet that I don't support war, I can go in jail for 15 years"
増田 "それにしてはあのredditのロシア人は普通にプーチン批判や戦争反対を言ってたけど"
友達 "the law came after that post."
増田 "ええっ"
友達 "when they wrote it, it was OK. but now Putin does everything he can to stay in power. they're frantically making new laws. so they can stay in power for a little longer. what happens now is the blackest page in Russia's history. since Russia-Japan war"
友達 "USA always hated Russia. They are using every chance they get to destroy us. if instead of Russia it was Finland or China, attacking Ukraine, they wouldn't do shit about it. we several times tried to have friendly relationships with USA and each time they basically said "Fuck off, Russians". I didn't have any illusions about them before. but now I plainly fucking hate them. Japanese are the best"
増田 "また始まったよ"
友達 "first time was during World War 2 lend-lease they helped us (注: チャットなので文章がところどころ適当になることがある)
we tried to be friends with them after, but they had secret plan to conquer USSR while it's weak. it was cancelled"
友達 "then Cold War, a lot of hating each other. next time we tried to be friends in 90s. "Bush's chicken legs", helping each other"
友達 "USA's bombing of Yugoslavia made us enemies again. since then, we were not friends"
友達 "when that happened, Russian premier Primakov was on the flight to USA. there was gonna be a deal that could help Russia greatly. when Primakov heard about Yugoslavia, he asked his pilot to turn around, back to Moscow, and cancelled that deal. in Russia, it's known as "Primakov's turn" "
増田 "なんでそれで帰るの？"
友達 "he didn't want to work with countries that act like that. it was a war crime"
増田 "プリマコフという人は今の日本ではあまり知られてませんよ。私も今初めて聞きました"
友達 "he's not well known in Russia too :D "
増田 "失脚させられたみたいだからね。こんな政治家について今のロシアで報道されないのは自然だ"
友達 "he's still in government, if i remember correct"
増田 "……
エフゲニー・マクシモヴィチ・プリマコフ（ロシア語: Евгений Максимович Примаков、ラテン文字転写の例：Evgenii Maksimovich Primakov、1929年10月29日 - 2015年6月26日」 "
友達 "ah"
増田 "やっぱりさ、西洋の人たちがロシア人全部を雑に罵倒してくるの仕方ないと思うんだよ"
友達 "meh. fuck them then. i'm not gonna contact them then"
増田 "charmという単語があるでしょう。likable appealという意味だよね"
友達 "you can say it that way, yes"
増田 "でもmagicという意味もある。超自然的で恐ろしくて強いものだ"
増田 "日本語では魅力というけどこの"魅"は実は化け物のこと。
人間はこのcharmとか魅力とかいう恐ろしいものに支配されて生きている。
なんでアメリカの空爆のときとロシアの侵略のときで世論が全然違うのか？ それはアメリカやウクライナには魅力があるけどロシアやユーゴにはないからだよ。人間にはかわいくもかっこよくもない人々の命より好きな人ひとりのほうが大事なんだ"
友達 "for me, all people are the same. every life is equal. （注：ここでは彼は「生命は尊い」とは言っていないが、普段の態度と前後の文脈からそう思っているのが明らかなので勝手に足しておいた）
death of Yugoslavians person is as tragic as the death of American and other people"
増田 "●●さんはそうでもたいていの人はそうではないからね。だから仕方がないんだ。実のところ私も他人のこと言えないんだよ。だって私もシリアの内戦とかクリミア侵略とか外国のニュースは気にしなかったのに、●●さんに出会ったからってだけでウクライナ侵略ばかり気にしてるからその『西洋人たち』と同じなんだよ。だから、仕方がないと思う"
タイトルの通り。現在実家に帰省しているのだが、珍しく母が「なんか良いアニメとかない？」って聞いてきた。しかし俺は母が好みそうなアニメをあんまり知らなくて困っている。
母は韓流ドラマが好きだ。
うちの実家は四国の山中の田舎町にある。母は昔よく車で往復1時間くらいかけて、山のふもとの町にあるTSUTAYAで韓流ドラマのDVDを片っ端から借りてきて、休みの日にずっと見ていた。
そんな母を見て、俺は4、5年くらい前にAmazonのFire Stickを買ってきて、家のテレビでネトフリとアマプラを見られるようにした。もうわざわざ遠くのTSUTAYAに行く必要もなくなったから、母にとって革命だったらしい。
しかし最近、そこにある韓流ドラマはほぼ全て鑑賞し終わり、見たい韓流ドラマが枯渇してしまったという。本当に見るものがなくなって、最近はスマホでYouTubeやTikTokの動物動画ばかり見てる。ネトフリは特にアニメ作品がホーム画面に表示されることも多いが、ウチの母にはあんまりハマらないらしい。俺はアニメはその年の有名どころを1、2本かいつまんで見るだけだから、あんまり詳しくない。
母からは「面白いアニメはないか？」と聞かれているが、実際はドラマでも良いと思う。とにかく、ネトフリやアマプラで観られる、母がハマりそうな作品を探している。ここなら有識者（？）が多いだろうから、もし詳しい人が見ているなら教えてもらえるとありがたい。
少し長くなるけど、ウチの母の好みをざっと書いておく。
ウチの母は田舎の病院に勤める看護師だ。普段から、大けがして血だらけで運ばれてくる人の手当とか、終末期になってもだれも看取りにこない老人の世話とかしてる。だからアニメといっても、残酷な描写が多いやつはNGだ。流行りの進撃の巨人や鬼滅がネトフリのトップに上がってても、母は「見ててつらい」って言ってる。
当たり前だが、看護師のシフトは交代制で夜勤もある。夜勤明けの母はヘロヘロになって帰ってくる。だからストーリーが難解だったり、特殊な教養が必要な作品は「何言ってるか分からん」って言って視聴をすぐに止める。少し疲れてる脳みそで見ても分かりやすいストーリーだとありがたい。
母は趣味嗜好はいたって普通の50代後半の女性だから、女の子よりイケメンを頼む。
これはなぜかは分からない。例えば、実家でBig Bang Theoryを観ていて、父や弟たちはゲラゲラ笑っていたものの、母は「ノリについていけない」と言って視聴拒否していた。
母は冬ソナで韓流にハマった人なので、最近流行りのイカゲームとかじゃなくて、時代劇の純愛モノがとにかく好き。トンイとか太陽を抱く月とか。
なぜだか分からないが、母が好きなアニメは犬夜叉。これは俺が小学生の時に家族で一緒に見ていたからだと思う。そして最近母がネトフリで唯一ハマったアニメはうしおととら。「なんか犬夜叉っぽい」と言いながら、最終回まで完走した。
増田に投稿するのは初めてだけど、普段離れて暮らす母にしてあげられることは少ないし、こういうときくらいちょっとは役に立つ息子でありたいから、もし何か良い作品を知ってたら教えてくれないだろうか。
追記：
たった一日でこれだけ反応があってちょっとびびった。みんな本当にありがとう。とりあえず母には爽やかスポーツ系（ハイキュー!!、弱虫ペダルとか）と少女マンガ系（夏目友人帳、ちはやふるとか）から2、3選んで薦めておきます。半妖の夜叉姫のことすっかり忘れてたから、それは激推ししておくわ。ネトフリでこういう作品をいくつか見たら、あとは母の好みに合う作品をネトフリが勝手にオススメしてくれるから、それに任せようと思う。
あと俺自身は酒飲みながら電脳コイルを見て号泣した人間だから、地球外少年少女には結構期待してる。みんながオススメしてくれた中にも気になったものがいくつかあるからちゃんと見ておくよ。
