#chest freezer dealer

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Incomplete vs. overshoot

I'm on tour with my new novel The Bezzle! Catch me TONIGHT in Seattle (Feb 26) with Neal Stephenson, then Portland, Phoenix and more!

You know the "horseshoe theory," right? "The far-left and the far-right, rather than being at opposite and opposing ends of a linear continuum of the political spectrum, closely resemble each other, analogous to the way that the opposite ends of a horseshoe are close together":

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Horseshoe_theory

It's a theory that only makes sense if you don't know much about the right and the left and what each side wants out of politics.

Take women's suffrage. The early suffragists ("suffragettes" in the UK) were mostly interested in votes for affluent, white women – not women as a body. Today's left criticizes the suffrage movement on the basis that they didn't go far enough:

https://www.npr.org/2011/03/25/134849480/the-root-how-racism-tainted-womens-suffrage

Contrast that with Christian Dominionists – the cranks who think that embryos are people (though presumably not for the purpose of calculating a state's electoral college vote? Though it would be cool if presidential elections turned on which side of a state line a fertility clinic's chest-freezer rested on):

https://www.wnycstudios.org/podcasts/otm/segments/how-alabama-ivf-ruling-was-influenced-christian-nationalism-on-the-media?tab=summary

These people are part of a far-right coalition that wants to abolish votes for women. As billionaire far-right bagman Peter Thiel wrote that he thought it was a mistake to let women vote at all:

https://www.cato-unbound.org/2009/04/13/peter-thiel/education-libertarian/

Superficially, there's some horseshoe theory action going on here. The left thinks the suffragists were wrong. The right thinks they were wrong, too. Therefore, the left and the right agree!

Well, they agree that the suffragists were wrong, but for opposite reasons – and far, far more importantly, they totally disagree about what they want. The right wants a world where no women can vote. The left wants a world where all women can vote. The idea that the right and the left agree on women's suffrage is, as the physicists say, "not even wrong."

It's the kind of wrong that can only be captured by citing scripture, specifically, A Fish Called Wanda, 6E, 79: "The central message of Buddhism is not 'Every man for himself.' And the London Underground is not a political movement. Those are all mistakes, Otto. I looked them up."

Or take the New Deal. While the New Deal set its sites on liberating workers from precarity, abuse and corruption, the Dealers – like the suffragists – had huge gaps in their program, omitting people of color, indigenous people, women, queer people, etc. There are lots of leftists who criticize the New Deal on this basis: it didn't go far enough:

https://livingnewdeal.org/new-deal-and-race/

But for the past 40 years, America has seen a sustained, vicious assault on New Deal programs, from Social Security to Medicare to food stamps to labor rights to national parks, funded by billionaires who want to bring back the Gilded Age and turn us all into forelock-tugging plebs:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/06/the-end-of-the-road-to-serfdom/

If you only view politics as a game of elementary school cliques, you might say that the left and the right are meeting again. The left says Roosevelt got it wrong with the New Deal (because he left out so many people). The right says FDR was wrong for doing the New Deal in the first place. Therefore, the left and the right agree, right?

Obviously wrong. Obviously. Again, the important thing is why the left and the right think the New Deal deserves criticism. The important thing is what the left and the right want. The left wants universal liberation. The right wants us all in economic chains. They do not agree.

It's not always just politics, either. Take the old, good internet. That was an internet defined by technological self-determination, a wild and wooly internet where there were few gatekeepers, where disfavored groups could find each other and make common cause, where users who were threatened by the greed of the shareholders behind big services could install blockers, mods, alternative clients and other "adversarial interoperability" tools that seized the means of computation.

Today's enshitternet – "five giant websites, filled with screenshots of the other four" (h/t Tom Eastman) – is orders of magnitude more populous than that old, good internet. The enshitternet has billions of users, and they are legally – and technologically – prevented from taking any self-help measures when the owners of services change them to shift value from users to themselves:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/twiddler/

The anti-enshittification movement rightly criticizes the old, good internet because it wasn't inclusive enough. It was a system almost exclusively hospitable to affluent, privileged people – the people who least needed the liberatory power of technology.

Likewise pro-enshittification monopolists – billionaires and their useful idiots – deplore the old, good internet because it gave its users too much power. For them, ad-blocking, alternative clients, mods, reverse-engineering and so on were all bugs, not features. For them, the enshitternet is great because businesses can literally criminalize taking action to protect yourself from their predatory impulses:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/20/benevolent-dictators/#felony-contempt-of-business-model

Superficially, it seems like the pro- and anti-enshittification forces agree – they both agree that the old, good internet was a mistake. But the difference that matters here is that the pro-enshittification side wants everyone mired in the enshitternet forever, living with what Jay Freeman calls "Felony contempt of business-model." By contrast, the disenshittification side wants a new, good internet that gives every user – not just a handful of techies – the power to decide how the digital systems they work use, and to be able to alter or reconfigure them to suit their own needs.

The horsehoe theory only makes sense if you don't take into account the beliefs and goals of each side. Politics aren't just a matter of who you agree with on a given issue – the real issue is what you're trying to accomplish.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/26/horsehoe-crab/#substantive-disagreement

[robotrightsactivist]

A sewage leak anywhere was an unwelcome thing, but the loss the gravity generators made the situation considerably more daunting. Sam had done it a few times before, but this one was pretty nasty. If he were just another maintenance bot, he would at least be able to turn off his smell. But unfortunately for Sam, he was designed to imitate human biological processes as closely as possible, and the maintenance firm he was employed by specialized in what the others refused. And he was a janitor, and janitors on this level of Brightstar Station were rarely able to authorize a maintenance bot to do the job for them. Too valuable, get a human to do it. Better yet, get an illegally employed non-human worker to do it for cheap. Which left Sam.

Thankfully they let him shower afterwards, which was nice even if he was in a full protective suit. The fact that it would recycle the air meant that it still let the air in, and that the suit was fifty years old meant the filters half-worked about half the time. Sam was just grateful that no one bothered him at work. Not that anyone would talk to him anyways, because even in the impossible scenario where he was human he was still awkward. Too nervous to say the wrong thing. To not know the right thing. It was easier to be quiet than to step into an interaction that would reveal how obviously non-human he was.

Sam had overheard through the conversations of off-stationers that other bioroids existed, elsewhere in the Sol System, but the way and how of their existence so wildly varied between total subjugation (Saturn, Uranus, most moons of Jupiter) and full citizenship (Venus, Mercury, some places on Earth) that leaving seemed too risky. Out here, in the Oort Cloud, all machines were product, which was good or bad depending on where you were and who you were with. And after what he had been through, an uneventful and repetitive existence was a luxury.

Once the common areas had thinned out and everyone else had left for home, Sam checked all the empty corridors that were more common towards main generators. Once he was sure there were no wandering groups of ill-intended human teenagers, dealers, and other folk he’d rather not bump into, he quickly made his way through the passages.

Eleven floors down and seven halls space-side, there was what appeared to be a stunted hallway. There, Sam looked over his shoulder, checked the cameras and when he was again sure no one knew he was there, he used the old janitor’s key to unlock the closet.

The long and narrow room was Sam’s home, a collection of discarded utilities and repurposed treasures delicately fitted into a living space where he had spent almost a decade. The welcome mat made of many pieces of fabric, he found that in the trash after an art fair, the antique wooden coat hanger holding all the outfits Sam could possibly wear, the metal shoe rack where all three of his shoes lived when he wasn’t working. His small collection of discarded carpets, lining the floor, each a different texture and feeling on his bare feet. The mattress in the far corner was discarded for being a few centimeters too short, that was an amazing find. Sam had no shortage of discarded blankets, but he especially loved the quilt he snatched from the mouth of the carbon recycler, and pillows were easy to refurbish if one knew how to do it. He had many books, some very new and others very old. Sam needed to eat eight hundred and sixty one calories every four days, so he was thrilled to find a battery operated freezer-chest, where inside he kept a rotating assortment of frozen meals he could heat up in the mini stove. The tablet with the slightly-fractured screen, where he could watch media on the public channel. He enjoyed watching old movies if he could find them. Sam avoided the news and anything that reminded him of the world outside his little home.

And of course, there were dioramas. Every corner and every unused space of the closet had a different diorama, of landscapes, of houses, of buildings, of gardens and trees and fantastical worlds. A city square in a magical town populated with different non-human creatures, that took almost nine months. A group of tentacled aliens on a camping trip, sharing stories while a unicorn watches from the trees, four months. The inside of a garden cottage where a friendly witch was teaching her apprentice how to cook eggs, six months. The temple of a crystalline goddess visited by a pilgrim of stone, he was still working on that. A treehouse where a family of mice lived happily, fourteen months. Those were his favorites, but there were many others, all beautiful and intricate and engrossing. Sam read books on painting, sculpting, and organic chemistry so he could make the right adhesives, the right paints, the right techniques, the exact materials to make his little pockets of reality. Sam loved them all.

Near his bed was a small wooden frame, and inside it was a photo of a ten-year-old boy with red hair beaming while holding a trophy. It was when Samuel won the junior station judo tournament, two months before the accident that killed him. To Sam, the memories were like the grainy clips of media civilians pirated from visiting ships, translated fictions conveyed through filters of understanding. When Sam awoke for the first time, he knew he wasn’t Samuel, but Sam did his best to play the part his parents wanted, because he wanted to be loved by them and make them happy. But after a year, and subsequent visits to the synthetic reproduction firm that had made him, Sam became his parents’ preferred object of scorn. Mother asked him questions designed to humiliate him, as if his pretending to be their son was something he plotted. “You’re hurting my feelings,” Sam would say to dissuade her. Eventually, Sam’s efforts to defend himself would be catalyst for Father to start hitting him. This continued for years, and even as Sam grew older and his body became taller and stronger and his voice changed, Father would continue to find reasons to hurt him. Sometimes Mother sat and watched it happen, that was agonizing. They spent almost half their wealth into seeking out a black market designer and commissioning them to recreate a dead human from neural scans, creating a bioroid engineered to love them as a human child would, why would they hurt him? When Sam was legally fifteen, he saw that Father was looking for him with a knife in his hands. Sam remembered what the warranty said about accidents, that if he was brought back in decent condition he could be harvested for parts. That night, Sam fled his parents’ pavilion, resisting every program and every cloudy memory telling him he loved his parents and they loved him. Samuel was loved by his parents, and he loved them. Sam wasn’t sure he did, not anymore, but when Sam recognized Samuel’s face in an old print magazine, he cut it out and found a frame to put it in. Around it, Sam placed little objects Samuel would like: action figures, interesting stones, the occasional old coin. Sam liked to believe that somehow, somewhere, Samuel appreciated this little shrine.

When he remembered it, Sam fished his latest find from the deepest pocket in his overalls, and set it before the frame.

“I found this today,” Sam said to his ghost. “Can you believe they’d throw out an action figure like this? Look, he can do a butterfly kick!” Sam tapped the foot of the action figure, and it sprung into a perfect butterfly kick and landed on two feet. Samuel often practiced those and hoped to get it right someday, when he was big and strong.

Sam remembered Samuel not wanting to die. He remembered being pinned under the column that would crush him to death as soon as his arms couldn’t hold it up anymore, how he held on even as his arms went numb. How he had so much to live for, how could it end right now?

So, Sam would live as best he possible for as long as he could. If things on the Brightstar got too rough, there was a little wallet where he had hoped he saved enough money to leave, maybe to one of places some rumored to be friendly to machine beings. But for now, this was good.

[techmateequipment123]

Electrolux Refrigerator Dealers in Delhi

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Authorized Electrolux Dealer As authorized Electrolux Refrigerator Dealers in Delhi, we bring you the latest models of Electrolux refrigerators known for their durability, energy efficiency, and advanced technology. From compact options for small businesses to large-scale units for industrial use, we have it all.

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If you’re in the market for Electrolux Refrigerator Dealers in Delhi, Techmate Equipment is your go-to choice. Partner with us for high-quality refrigeration solutions and experience unparalleled service from an ISO Certified organization that values your satisfaction above all.

For inquiries or to explore our product range, call us today or visit our website. Let Techmate Equipment keep your business cool and efficient with premium Electrolux refrigerators!

Optimize your commercial kitchen today with Techmate Equipment – Your trusted partner in refrigeration.

[conquercool01]

Blue Star Deep Freezer Dealers in Bangalore

Blue Star Deep Freezer Dealers in Bangalore are pivotal in providing top-tier freezing solutions to a diverse range of customers, including households, restaurants, supermarkets, and industrial clients. Known for their reliability, durability, and advanced technology, Blue Star deep freezers are designed to meet the stringent storage requirements for perishable goods, making them an essential asset for many businesses in Bangalore.

Strategically located across the city, these dealers operate in key commercial areas such as Koramangala, Whitefield, Jayanagar, and Indiranagar. This widespread presence ensures that customers can easily access quality freezing solutions, regardless of their location. Blue Star deep freezer dealers offer a variety of models, including chest freezers and upright freezers, available in different capacities to meet specific needs, from small-scale operations to large industrial storage requirements.

The dealers provide comprehensive services, starting with expert consultations to help customers choose the right deep freezer model based on their unique needs. This personalized approach ensures that clients get the most efficient and cost-effective solutions. Competitive pricing and flexible financing options further enhance accessibility, making it easier for businesses to invest in high-quality freezing solutions.

Installation services are a critical component of their offerings. Blue Star dealers in Bangalore employ trained technicians who ensure proper setup, optimizing the performance and energy efficiency of the units. Correct installation is crucial for the longevity and effective functioning of deep freezers, and these dealers emphasize this aspect to guarantee customer satisfaction.

After-sales support is another area where Blue Star deep freezer dealers excel. They offer regular maintenance services and prompt repair solutions, ensuring that the freezers remain in optimal condition throughout their lifespan. This ongoing support helps maintain the efficiency and reliability of the units, providing peace of mind to customers.

In summary, Blue Star deep freezer dealers in Bangalore stand out for their extensive product range, expert guidance, professional installation, and robust after-sales service. Their commitment to quality and customer satisfaction makes them a preferred choice for freezing solutions in the city, catering to a broad spectrum of needs across various sectors.

[amarantine-amirite]

Venetian Blinds

When you see teachers outside of school, it shouldn't feel like you got caught breaking out of prison. It should feel more like watching a dog walk on its hind legs.

Mr. Marco, my English teacher, spotted me at the grocery store and pointed at me. "That jacket," he barked, "take it off!"

"What's wrong with it?" I said with the confused look on my face, looking confused. I know I'm not allowed to wear that jacket at school, but I'm in the grocery store. I shouldn't be beholden to the school dress code in the grocery store.

"Angela, you can't wear a jacket or hoodie with a drawstring because it's a choking hazard." he scolded, "I thought you knew that"

"Sort of," I responded quizzically, "but I didn't think it would be a problem for us." I can see it for a small child because the first 5 years of parenting are more or less suicide watch, but for 9th graders? I don't think you have to worry about kids strangling themselves on a jacket by the time they're teenagers.

Nevertheless, we haven't been able to wear jackets with drawstrings on them at school for a while now. They've told us that we can't wear jackets with drawstrings out of respect for a former student called Phoebe Gamelon. Years ago, a drug dealer strangled Phoebe with the strings of her hoodie because she cut in front of him in line at McDonalds four months prior to her death. He then kept her body in a chest freezer in his apartment for about a week. Next, he "borrowed" some sheets from his girlfriend and wrapped up the body. He then tied it off using a super long telephone cord distinctively patched everywhere with all different kinds of tape. Once tied, he dropped the body into an alley with a note suggesting it was a gang murder. The only reason he got caught: he had his name on the note.

I had trouble believing that. So did my parents, to the point that they flat out refused to buy new jackets that comply with the rules. They responded with a rant that could be summed up as "Seriously, draw-strings on hoodies and jackets are a health risk now? Why don't we just wrap all children in bubble wrap. It would be easier than having to babyproof every somewhat sharp edge on this planet. I grew up in a house with Venetian blinds with looped strings to raise and lower them and they were recalled at some point because kids were accidentally hanging themselves. Let me tell you, that recall did nothing for mankind. The next generation after these kids are going to be nothing but cowards."

I totally forgot about that conversation until this happened. Our AV club made a Super Bowl commercial for Tech Mahindra that strongly suggested that they were the people who built the OS for the Opportunity rover, something that was wildly untrue. At the end of the whole thing, the school got rid of the AV club.

We had a work period in the computer lab. We were to set up SAS on our machines, and everybody got stuck.

Beth had completely checked out. She just leafed through her planner. "They shouldn't have gotten rid of the AV club, it wasn't our fault," she lamented.

Her perspective intrigued me. I couldn't help but chime in, "How could putting out a Super Bowl commercial where you claim Tech Mahindra designed the OS for the Opportunity Rover not be your fault?" I asked skeptically.

"They told us to say that!" Beth retorted. Her mismatched eyes flashed with defensiveness. "And why did we get in trouble for false advertising when they didn't? It's not fair."

"No idea," I shrugged, "but on a more disturbing note, if Tech Mahindra did manage to design the OS for Oppy, it wouldn't have made it off the launch pad."

The tension near our workstations seemed to rise as our words hung in the air. Little did Beth and I know that Dilip had been listening in on us, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation took. "That's racist, man," he protested.

I shook my head. "No, it isn't," I disagreed, "Have you seen their ASL translator? It's useless."

Tech Mahindra's ASL translator had so many problems. It struggled to differentiate between again and 1000, quiet and egg and finish, and rock and work

Other people have had problems with it too. I saw something on the news that said the ASL translator mistook the sign for monthly for condom and it nearly got someone arrested. The physics department at Gallaudet University found it hilarious that it mistranslated the sign for physics as difficult. Other people said that Tech Mahindra's ASL translator mistranslated busy as Alberta and piano as Newfoundland. Supposedly, the problem arose from a miscommunication between an ASL subject matter expert located in Toronto and the development team in India that resulted in signs for anything related to Canada getting prioritized over other signs so as to avoid falling offside of Canadian content rules. It only demonstrated that none of the people involved with the project really understood Canadian content rules.

They also fell victim to the infamous "store I go" syntax problem. Basically, the algorithm looks for words in the wrong part of the sentence. A simple Google search could've pointed them in the right direction here. If you google "store I go ASL", the first thing that pops up is a handy article from LifePrint titled The Myth Of "Store I Go".

I searched online for the news story about the guy who nearly got arrested because of how bad the ASL translator was so I could show Dilip what I was talking about. In the process, I made the mistake of hovering over one of those AI generated ads. If you hover your mouse over them, it infects your computer.

I'v always believed that only a really stupid person would click those pop-ups that say "hundreds of hot singles in your area want to party" thinking that it was for real. Everyone knows those things are scams. Today, I discovered where clicking those things would take you.

They don't take you to anything dating related. They take you to a thing that you can type a dead person's name in and it pulls up a simulation of their entire lifetime.

That's how sophisticated artificial intelligence has become. They now have an AI that scans a person's brain and makes a full simulation of their life. You can even interact with the simulation at any point in time. Just punch in a date and voila!

For moral reasons, the only case where you can legally use this tool is when someone who died recently delivers their final message to only a handful of individuals the deceased knew and trusted. Misuse comes with steep consequences. Anyone caught eavesdropping on the deceased's final message to their chosen people gets life in prison. Anyone who uses the tool for anything else gets the death penalty. Yet, oddly enough, the tool is on the web, open for anyone to use. The only thing stopping people from using it when they aren't supposed to is willpower.

That didn't stop me from punching Phoebe's name into the scanner. Interacting with the simulation of her life showed me that the story of her demise was true. Not only can you get strangled with hoodie strings, there are people who are too stupid to commit crimes.

Her last words are going to give me nightmares. "No! Don't kill me! I'm not Angela!"

@seaside-writings

[baliportalnews]

Masuki Hari Jadi Ketiga, ARTUGO Perkuat Pemasaran di Pulau Bali

BALIPORTALNEWS.COM, DENPASAR - Hampir genap tiga tahun berkiprah di pasar peranti rumah tangga, ARTUGO, brand home appliance asli tanah air, kian jeli menentukan strategi dalam upayanya agar makin diterima oleh masyarakat. Sukses melakukan ekspansi area pemasaran hingga ke seluruh wilayah Indonesia termasuk pulau Bali dan sekitarnya, kurang dari tiga tahun, kini ARTUGO makin mantap untuk melakukan penetrasi market baik melalui penambahan varian produk, kegiatan branding yang masif, maupun memperkokoh relasi dengan mitra dealer. “Sebagai daerah wisata, pulau Bali dan sekitarnya memiliki potensi besar, khususnya untuk penjualan chest freezer yang merupakan produk unggulan dari ARTUGO. Ditambah, dengan menjamurnya usaha rumahan berbasis kuliner yang memerlukan produk penunjang dengan spesifikasi tertentu dari segi tampilan dan fitur,” ujar Branch Manager ARTUGO Cabang Bali, Ida Bagus Kusuma Putra. Kusuma menjelaskan, Chest freezer besutan ARTUGO sendiri dihadirkan dalam tampilan warna-warni dan memiliki kompresor Wide Range Voltage yang mampu tetap bekerja optimal di tengan kondisi tegangan yang naik–turun antara 160–260 volt. Selain itu pilihan kapasitas yang begitu bervariasi mulai dari 100–1.600 liter serta pemilihan Pre-Coated Metal (PCM) sebagai inner cabinet material yang tangguh terhadap benturan, anti karat, dan mudah dibersihkan turut membuat produk penunjang usaha ini banyak dipilih oleh para pelaku UMKM. “Selain chest freezer, tahun ini ARTUGO makin fokus untuk mempertajam penetrasi pasar di lini peranti dapur khususnya kompor,” imbuh Kusuma. Terbaru, ARTUGO baru saja merilis seri kompor tanam gas terbarunya ARTUGO AH 2738 EB. Keunggulan sekaligus keunikan kompor dua tungku ini terletak design tungku yang menyerupai mahkota. Karenanya, nama Queen Hob disematkan agar makin mudah dikenali oleh konsumen. Design tungku ARTUGO AH 2738 EB memiliki satu titik pusat api dan delapan titik api di sekelilingnya. Dengan design tersebut, abi biru sempurna yang dihasilkan, akan makin presisi disetel besar kecilnya sesuai dengan kebutuhan. Terdapat pelindung api di sekililing tungku yang akan melindungi knop agar tidak terpapar panas, sehingga lebih awet. Selain itu, jarak antar tungku diatur sedemikian rupa sehingga lebih luas, agar pengguna tidak perlu khawatir panci akan berhimpitan ketika menggunakan kedua tungku secara bersamaan. Badan kompor bermaterialkan tempered glass dengan lifetime warranty, turut menjadi daya tarik dari kompor ini. Tak lupa, segi keamanan yang dipastikan lewat hadirnya thermocouple, yang bertugas memutuskan aliran gas saat tidak ada sumber api, semakin menyempurnakan kompor dua tungku ini. Dari sisi branding, ARTUGO memiliki strategi untuk melakukan kegiatan promosi dengan menggandeng mitra dealer. Hal ini dianggap ideal, mengingat dealer ataupun toko adalah tempat dimana ARTUGO dapat lebih mudah menjangkau konsumen secara langsung dan lebih tepat sasaran. Berbagai kegiatan antara lain demo masak, bedah produk, dan kegiatan edukasi lainnya dilakukan dengan melibatkan pihak toko. Terbukti, dengan strategi ini selain brand awareness yang makin naik, relasi ARTUGO dengan mitra dealer juga semakin solid, sehingga pada akhirnya berdampak dengan naiknya penjualan. “Saat ini kami menargetkan untuk menambah jalinan dengan lebih banyak mitra dealer serta memperkuat kolaborasi dengan mitra dealer yang saat ini telah bekerjasama. Sebagai brand, kami menyadari bahwa diterimanya sebuah produk, tidak hanya cukup ditentukan oleh kualitas, namun juga faktor distribusi. Ini tak lepas dari peran penting mitra dealer , sebagai jembatan sampainya produk ARTUGO ke tangan konsumen,” pungkas Kusuma. Bangun Komunikasi Secara Apik, Berikan Layanan Terbaik Sebagai penghuni baru di pasar peranti rumah tangga, membuat ARTUGO berbeda dengan brand yang terlebih dahulu hadir, adalah tantangan tersendiri. Selain dari sisi produk, layanan servis dibangun menjadi salah satu pilar brand. Berinovasi dengan menghadirkan Service Trifecta, layanan purnajual berbasis digital pertama di Indonesia pada sektor home appliace, ARTUGO menjamin kenyamanan konsumen dalam mendapatkan pelayanan prima, sejak hari pertama membeli produk. “Nama Trifecta merujuk pada tiga layanan utama di dalamnya,” ujar CEO ARTUGO, Robert Widjaja. Robert menjelaskan, layanan tersebut terdiri dari Digital Warranty, Service Tracking, serta 7–Day Solution. Digital Warranty, yaitu sistem pendaftaran garansi produk melalui mekanisme digital, di mana konsumen cukup melakukan scan QR Code pada produk, mengikuti beberapa langkah registrasi, setelah itu secara otomatis produk akan terdaftar dalam website www.artugo.co.id. Kendala yang biasa terjadi karena hilangnya nota pembelian atau kartu garansi kini tak lagi menjadi persoalan. Sedangkan, Service Tracking merupakan fitur yang dibuat agar konsumen dapat memantau kemajuan proses perbaikan produk ARTUGO miliknya secara transparan dan real time. Yang terakhir, 7-Day Solution adalah komitmen waktu yang diberikan ARTUGO saat produk mengalami masalah dan memerlukan perbaikan lebih lanjut. Maksimal dalam tujuh hari sejak konsumen menyampaikan keluhan, ARTUGO akan memberikan solusi mulai dari meminjamkan produk pengganti, hingga mengganti produk bermasalah dengan produk yang baru. “Kami yakin, akan ada tantangan–tantangan baru bagi ARTUGO di tahun tahun mendatang. Namun demikian dengan kepercayaan dari konsumen, relasi yang kuat dengan mitra dealer, serta dukungan dari rekan–rekan media yang mengiringi perjalanan kami, tantangan tersebut akan dapat kami jawab bahkan menjadi cambuk untuk tumbuh dengan lebih baik lagi. Kami berterima kasih serta berkomitmen, untuk terus konsisten menghadirkan Great Product, Excellent Service  bagi ARTUGO Family di seluruh Indonesia , termasuk di Bali dan sekitarnya,” pungkas Robert.(tis/bpn) Read the full article

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Best Buds

Fezco x Reader

Euphoria Universe x Reader

1. Your Local Drug Dealer

~

I sit up in bed with a long stretch. That was the best I have ever slept in so long! I stand up, wrapping my robe around myself and going right to the shower. As soon as I start the water my phone chimes indicating I got a snap.

Fez sent a snap...

I open the message. Fez is sitting on the counter of the store taking a selfie, "Good mornin. Come by anytime, ma." I raise my camera up taking the best photo after a couple of attempts. "I plan on it."

The breeze entered through the holes in my jeans, making ht summer heat bearable. and with every step, my nerves rose. Soon, the store came into view, Fez sitting in the shade against the wall. I walk over, planting myself in front of him.

He looks up with a small smile, "Look who it is." I wiggle my fingers in a wave. "Hey. I'm sorry about yesterday. I didn't realize it was the middle of the night when I added you." Fez shakes his head, taking a stand to his feet. "it's no worries. I was up." He walks closer to the door, holding it open. "Come on, ma. Let me show you what I got." "Um, okay." I step inside with him, feeling the close vicinity. My nerves thick as I follow him. The pure scent surrounding him is making me lofty.

He leads me past the drinks and opens one of the doors walking into the freezer. I follow him seeing an entire back corner carved out just for him to do business. A young boy sat on a stool counting bills.

"Ashtray, this is (Y/n). Dylan's older sister. (Y/n), this is Ash." The kid nods his head before going back to counting. "Hey." I wave awkwardly before putting my hands behind my back. The kid nods before continuing his business.

Fez pulls out a gallon ziplock bag and opens it. "This is Alien OG. Got a pound. Gorilla Glue got an ounce on that. Blueberry Skittles only a quarter." I stare at the bags with confusion. "I... uh..." Fezco smiles letting out a light chuckle. "So, you saying you just started. Like last night?" I nod embarrassed. "I know nothing about this stuff."

Fez nods with a smile. "Cute. I got you, ma." He pulls out three separate bags, placing a few nugs of each plant in the bags. Thankfully my cheeks burnt down before he turned to me with the weed all packaged. "6gs on house. Come on back. I'll smoke you up." Fez grabs my wrist lightly, leading us away from the freezer and back into the light.

Fezco leans up against the wall, putting a blunt between his lips and sparking the end. I watch as his chest fills, rises, causing his shirt to tighten on his body. He exhales blowing the smoke into the sky. Fez holds out the blunt for me. "This is that Alien OG. I put 2 grams of that in the bag." I nod as I inhale the greens. "So, you been a real hard-ass on drugs, huh?" I shrug fighting a smile. Fez scoffs, "Fucking bummer." I take the blunt again smiling at him. "I didn't know, okay? Now I do. It's fucking awesome."

Fez keeps staring at me as I exhale the smoke. "What is it?" Fez smiles looking away. "Nothing, nothing. Just weird seeing a girl like you smoke." I pass the blunt his way, our fingers touching as he grabs it. "Get used to it, Fezco. I have a feeling you'll be seeing me a lot more." Fez bites his lips a sheer second before taking a hit of the blunt. "I hope so, (Y/n)."

After several minutes of conversation, jokes, and a joint, my mom starts calling. "Fuck." "Wasup?" "My mom's calling. She likes to have tea on Sundays." Fez lets out a laugh, "Tea? Like holding up pinkies and shit?" I push my pinkie up pretending to be British, "That's quite right sir." "Oh shit. look at you. You're good at that. I would've believed you." I silence her call rather than having to answer in front of him. I shuffle my feet swinging my hands behind my back. "I guess I should get going." Fez scans the area before asking, "Aye, you need a ride?" I start to reject but he decides for me. "You are way too fucked to be walking. Get in." Fez opens the door for me allowing me to fall into the front seat.

The drive home didn't take long. I was a straight shot from the store. Only a 15-minute walk. "It's the one on the left." Fez pulls up to the gate looking at the house in amazement. "No shit. You live here?" I nod looking at the large home. "Yeah. My mom's dream house." "Damn, girl." I look at him rolling my eyes, "Don't do that." "Do what? Look at you? You're pretty." Fez traces his thumb over my chin. "I... I should-" He nods, looking deep into my eyes. The feeling getting me drunk. "Yeah, I know." I exit the car waving him off before punching in my code and entering the gate.

~

About three weeks after I started smoking I found a new way of living. My entire life my mom always pushed the core values she believed in. Religion and image. The two most important things. If you're religious, well then you can't do any wrong, and when you can't do any wrong, you must present a perfectly clean image. You're pure, pretty, and proud. My mom was so fucking crazy that she was convinced I was supposed to marry Nate Jacobs and have two darling boys. It makes me puke.

I lock my door, open the window, kick my feet up, and spark a blunt. The light buzz of my phone and the ringtone catch my attention. I smile seeing the name plastered on the screen. "Hey, Fez." "Sup ma. How are you doing?" "Good. Smoking. Might watch a movie." "How was your day?" I giggle into the phone as I ash the blunt in the tray. "Sudden interest in my boring summer days?" Fez mumbles into the phone, "I like hearing you talk bout it." "How bored I am?" "Nah, baby, your day." I blush at his words.

"It was a good day. The cheer camp started today. It wasn't completely horrible. I was able to be land my back tuck today." "That's crazy for real. You do those flips and shit?" "Yeah. I'm one of the tumblers on the team." "That's tight. So... listen... You wanna like... come over tomorrow. The store is closed tomorrow. Figured I'd take a day off." I freeze in my chair. "Like... come to your house?" "Yeah." I smile letting the reality sink in. "Or if you-" "No, I want to come. What time should I be there?" "Anytime you want, baby." "Okay. I'll talk to you later Fez." "Catch you soon, ma."

Fez hangs up the phone with Ash by his side. His fists balled up in front of his face. Fez lays down his phone next to his leg on the couch. "So?" Ash asks with dying nerves. He had been persuading Fezco to call (y/n) all night! Fez looks to his brother, a smile growing on his face. "We're chillin tomorrow." Ash hops off the couch howling at his brother. "See? Fuckin told you, man! She's into you!" Fez shakes his head, "I don know bout all dat, She's preppy." Ash rolls his eyes. "If she was a real prep she'd only be buying from you. Not making phone calls at 2 am. Y'all keep me up, man."

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LoveDrug

Summary:  That trope where someone's eyes dilate when they see someone they love. That's it. That's the whole fic. OR Virgil and his accomplice play matchmakers for some literal star-crossed lovers.

Word count: 2198

Pairing: Romantic Roman/ Logan (college AU)

Warnings: drinking (not underage), other drugs mentioned but no one uses any

Yes this happened to me. Hush and let me project

AO3 Link

Roman was going to murder his roommate. Or at least shave an eyebrow off in his sleep.

He had been trying to navigate a small apartment decorated in polaroids and newspaper paintings, crowded with people he didn’t know. He had done his best flitting around from group to group: parties weren’t exactly a foreign entity to him and usually he would relish in the chance to make new friends. However, he had been looking for a particularly stormy visage among the sea of people.

He locked eyes with his target: Virgil Kross, aforementioned roommate who had dragged him here in the beginning of the night and told him to stay close before uncharacteristically darting off.

The get together was for everyone in Virgil’s physics class and when Roman found him, Virgil was propped up against a wall and sitting on some steps, swirling around a cider and talking to someone in square glasses and an almost comically over-formal button down.

Virgil caught his eye and lifted an eyebrow. Roman shook his head in a restrained don’t you dare Virgil I swear sort of way. Virgil either didn’t see it or outright ignored him. He waved Roman over, made some sort of excuse that Roman didn’t hear, and left the two alone.

Roman was going to fill Virgil’s pillowcase with popcorn kernels. He was going to tape his toothbrush to the ceiling. He was going to hide his socks in the freezer. He was going to-

“Roman?”

Roman sucked in a breath, litany of threats against his horrible, no good roommate suddenly coming to a halt.

In front of him sat Logan Nova, Virgil’s study partner from when he had taken astronomy a semester ago and also, less important, the person Roman had been pining for ever since Virgil had dragged them on their fieldtrip in September. The class was supposed to map out the stars they saw, identify them, and measure their distances or something. Roman didn’t really keep track of the details. He wasn’t even too interested in looking at the stars, coming from a city where they were mostly blocked out by the light pollution.

And sure, they were pretty in the open sky, but not prettier than the wide eyes that drank them in, than the elated expression that same face had when Roman asked him a question about the class since Virgil was off probably shotgunning a beer with their professor and Roman was bored out of his mind. Logan had shown Roman his star maps and pulled out a worn out textbook with tenderly placed bookmarks of his favorite constellations. Roman had been fascinated by the stories behind them and the two spent the night going through the book, cover to cover.

By the end, Roman was sure he never thought the stars were beautiful until he saw them reflected in Logan’s eyes.

Virgil continued to bring Logan over, even after their astronomy classes had ended, sometimes completely unannounced, before flouncing off to run some errands with his art major friends (how Virgil managed to double major never ceased to amaze Roman, especially given that both those majors were so hard). And for the past six months, Roman had gone from crushing to something close to besotted. It wasn’t something very easy to hide so the next time Roman caught that spider he was going to put ice down his back and-

“Um, there aren’t anymore seats. I can move if you’d like?”

Logan’s voice brought Roman back to the present. He took an extra swig of his drink, hoping that Logan wouldn’t notice how he almost downed it for the courage, and shook his head.

“Scooch on over, Specs, we can share,” Roman said, the burn behind his sternum fueling his words.

Logan laughed, a little bubbly and Roman guessed that his cup was full of something with a similar texture, and moved for Roman to balance on half the seat.

Roman took another sip, looking out over the room of people.

“So this is what you physics people do on a Friday night, huh?” Roman asked, a little teasingly, “not bad.”

Logan bumped him and Roman barely kept his heart from fluttering out of his chest like a frantic dove.

“Did you see how drunk half the class got at the Meteor Fields?”

Roman snorted, “Fair. We almost had to carry Virgil back to the room.”

“You almost had to carry him. I did carry him.”

Roman made a noise of offense, “Excuse me! I am a knight in shining armor! Not a carriage!”

Logan laughed and Roman finally turned to look at him, startling when his face was much closer than he had anticipated.

“I don’t appreciate that I am the carriage in this metaphor,” Logan said with a faux-pout. Roman wanted to quip something back, but he had something of an elephant-sized lump in his throat. Logan tilted his head before leaning in. Roman just barely managed not to squeak.

“Goodness,” Logan said, “your eyes are so dilated!”

Roman blinked, taking another sip of his drink and trying to will a blush down.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Yeah!” Logan exclaimed back, leaning in even more and woo-boy was he close.

Roman looked to his drink slightly, not able to hold Logan’s wide eyes for a second without turning cherry-red.

“It’s pretty bright in here, they shouldn’t be,” Roman said, trying to ‘science it out’ like Logan loved to do. Logan, mercifully to Roman’s thundering pulse, sat back a bit: considering.

“Well. Quite a few things can cause one’s pupils to dilate. Lack of light. Opiate withdrawal. Looking at someone you’re attracted to. Love. Parasympathetic activat-”

“Coke,” Roman nearly choked out. Logan paused in the list he was rattling off and blinked.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Coke. I did coke. Just- whole line of cocaine all in one gulp.”

Logan furrowed his eyebrows. “You don’t drink cocaine, Roman. Furthermore-”

Roman didn’t hear the rest of Logan’s sentence. He pushed off the wire seating, sputtering out something about refilling his drink, and made a beeline for the back exit.

When he got to the balcony, he nearly slammed his head into the corner of the railing.

Well Roman thought miserably better for him to think you’re on drugs than hopelessly in love with him. Really dodged a bullet there.

The thought didn’t help. Roman let out a groan and let himself slump. He poked his legs between the columns of the balcony and swung his feet. Above him, the sky was hazy. The moon was barely visible as it peeked through a curtain of clouds. Not a star in the sky. A part of Roman thought that was rather fitting given how royally he had just messed up.

A door opened and closed behind him. For a moment, Roman thought it was Virgil from how quiet the footsteps were and was about to get up and tell him he was heading out when he turned around.

Logan Nova, adorable wavy black hair and now slightly-crumpled but still endearing button down, was staring back at him. Clutching his drink a little as he moved to sit next to Roman. He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then-

“Whoever your dealer is, I don’t think they gave you cocaine,” he finally said.

Roman swiveled around to meet his eyes. Logan’s eyebrows furrowed even further.

“Your eyes are dilated again. And while that is a symptom of its ingestion, your behavior otherwise does not indicate its use.”

Something bubbled out of Roman’s throat. For a horrifying moment, Roman thought it was his drink trying to take revenge, but no- it was laughter. Croaky at first, but rapidly devolving into full-bellied howling.

“Perhaps I misjudged?” Logan said after Roman’s guffaws continued, Roman shook his head, trying to stop the shake in his shoulders as Logan, obviously more than a little concerned at Roman’s ‘illicit drug use’, got more and more worried by the minute.

“I didn’t do any drugs, Logan,” Roman finally got out between heaving breaths. Logan stuck out his bottom lip a little.

“But you said..?”

Roman waved at him, he must have misjudged the distance because his hand caught Logan’s shoulder but Roman didn’t feel like moving it.

“I know what I said,” Roman said, laughter trickling, “I know, it was stupid, I promise though. I haven’t had anything besides this crappy beer and,” Roman took in a breath, now or never he guessed, “maybe a little love,” he finished quietly, not sure whether he should thank the alcohol or curse it for letting him say it.

Logan’s eyebrows shot up, “Lovedrug? Like ecstacy?!”

“What?!” Roman shot back, looking incredulous before rubbing his face, “NO, not- not lovedrug you-UGH- how are you smart but so dense??”

Logan only blinked in return. Roman supposed he deserved that.

“Lo,” Roman said, taking his legs out of the balcony and setting them in a lazy kneel, “what were the things you listed off for making someone’s eyes dilate?”

Logan’s nose scrunched, “Em. Parasympathetic activation?”

“Keep going,” Roman said, exasperated but woefully fond.

“Ecstasy would certainly be on the list.”

“Logan.”

Logan huffed, “Ah. I believe I also said looking at someone you’re attract-”

Logan stopped. His expression almost sent Roman into hysterics again but he didn’t give in because if he did he might have ended up crying.

“Oh,” Logan said in a small voice.

“Yeah, oh” Roman echoed softly, “sorry I lied, I kind of just. Panicked. A little.”

“So you led me to believe you had taken a bad strain of cocaine?” Logan replied, voice strained but still shocked out of emotion.

Roman squirmed. “Yee. My bad, you don’t- you know. Have to say anything though. I know you don’t- I just wanted you to know since you seemed a little freaked that I was having a bad drug reaction.”

“You know I don’t what?” Logan asked suddenly as he spun to face Roman. Roman looked down and scratched his nose.

“You don’t-ugh. Don’t make me say it dude, you know what I mean.”

“Roman, look at me.”

Boy, Logan was not making it easy. But he supposed if he was going to get rejected, he should look at him straight in the eyes. At least he’d retain some of his dignity then. Roman lifted his chin.

“What color are my eyes?”

Roman blinked, a little caught off-guard from the question. Was it that obvious that Roman had been waxing poetic about Logan’s eyes in his own mind from the moment he had met him? How they caught the light and sucked it in, like two galaxies swirling in his irises. How his lashes curled naturally, almost touching his brow bone when they were alight with wonder. How it didn’t even matter now that he couldn’t see a star in the sky because they were all caught in Logan’s eyes. They were a force of gravity pulling him in and everything else with them.

“…black?” Roman said, tamping down on his raging thoughts. Logan cocked his head.

“Are you sure about that?” he asked.

Roman almost would have been offended if Logan hadn’t chosen that moment to tug Roman’s chin towards him.

“Look closer,” Logan said.

Breathe, dumbass Roman’s brain said. He listened to both as he squinted.

There were still the swirling galaxies in the middle. The soft gaze did nothing to curb that, but there- Roman tilted his head as he saw something else. Like the sun brimming over the earth, a honey brown at the very edges. Logan must have seen Roman’s expression as he realized it.

“My eyes are amber, Roman.”

There was something in Logan’s voice, it was the same one he used when he was helping Roman with his GenEd calc class. Like he was trying to lead him somewhere. If Logan’s eyes were amber, then his pupils must have been massive because they took up the majority of the…oh.

“But-I-I don’t,” Roman stuttered.

“What were the reasons for someone’s eyes to dilate?” Logan pushed.

“Didn’t take you for a coke guy,” Roman said, trying for cool but bordering on watery. Logan huffed, his face was so close that Roman could feel the breath.

Then, Logan’s lips were on his own and suddenly Roman could care less about eyes.

“Logan,” Roman breathed, smiling when he pulled him forward into another kiss. He turned to pepper more along his jaw bone. Logan giggled. Roman tried to stamp the sound into his brain.

“You’re amazing, you know. Amazing, smart, beautiful, so beautiful,” Roman whispered, half out of his mind as he tugged on the hair at the nape of Logan’s neck.

“Are you sure that’s not the alcohol talking?” Logan managed, though it came out a bit garbled.

“Nothing can addle my brain more than your beauty already has,” Roman replied instantly, pulling Logan in again.

-

Behind the window of the balcony, a blue sweater clad boy adjusted his round glasses and gleefully took a five dollar bill from a pouting spider.

“I told you all they needed was a little push,” whispered the glasses boy.

“Fucking finally,” replied the spider, not missing his five dollars all that much.

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