The Lounge is rated Safe For Work. If you're about to post something inappropriate for a shared office environment, then don't post it. No ads, no abuse, and no programming questions. Trolling, (political, climate, religious or whatever) will result in your account being removed.
I am not going to bother finding out why (I can guess). I am guilty of saying something inappropriate on occasion, but you are dealing with people that know what they are talking about (damn - that is now a subset of the users).
1. Stop and think before you respond.
2. Do not think you know more than they do.
* I have bin doing this for only about 30 years an still learning.
"Program testing can be used to show the presence of bugs, but never to show their absence." - Edsger Dijkstra
"I have never been lost, but I will admit to being confused for several weeks. " - Daniel Boone
Nah, humour aside for a moment that's not it. I think you might have guessed wrong.
For the avoidance of doubt, my messages aren't being deleted or complained about (well, as far as I know!). It's just that they are very often automatically marked for (manual?) spam checking. After they've been checked (by a human, I presume?) then they are passed as safe for viewing.
From time to time the filters get angry with a user.
Blame the algorithm or the possible bad feeding when reporting spam.
You are not the first and I guess you won't be the last.
It is something temporary, things will get better soon.
If something has a solution... Why do we have to worry about?. If it has no solution... For what reason do we have to worry about?
Help me to understand what I'm saying, and I'll explain it better to you
Rating helpful answers is nice, but saying thanks can be even nicer.
The spam filters adapt as the spam comes in. It's nothing personal, but each message of yours that is marked non-spam lessens the likelihood of future messages written in the same vein as being marked as spam.
Speaking of hell, up until a half-hour ago, I thought that's where I was heading...my task of the day was setting up an cloning a MySQL/php/WordPress site on one of my IIS servers. I fully expected a few hours of swearing.
I had one database connection error, reset the password and...the clouds parted and up it came on the second try! Considering all the steps involved, that ain't bad! Now, to try and look busy for the rest of the day!
"the debugger doesn't tell me anything because this code compiles just fine" - random QA comment
"Facebook is where you tell lies to your friends. Twitter is where you tell the truth to strangers." - chriselst
"I don't drink any more... then again, I don't drink any less." - Mike Mullikins uncle
He never came to me when I would call
Unless I had a tennis ball,
Or he felt like it,
But mostly he didn't come at all.
When he was young
He never learned to heel
Or sit or stay,
He did things his way.
Discipline was not his bag
But when you were with him things sure didn't drag.
He'd dig up a rosebush just to spite me,
And when I'd grab him, he'd turn and bite me.
He bit lots of folks from day to day,
The delivery boy was his favorite prey.
The gas man wouldn't read our meter,
He said we owned a real man-eater.
He set the house on fire
But the story's long to tell.
Suffice it to say that he survived
And the house survived as well.
On the evening walks, and Gloria took him,
He was always first out the door.
The Old One and I brought up the rear
Because our bones were sore.
He would charge up the street with Mom hanging on,
What a beautiful pair they were!
And if it was still light and the tourists were out,
They created a bit of a stir.
But every once in a while, he would stop in his tracks
And with a frown on his face look around.
It was just to make sure that the Old One was there
And would follow him where he was bound.
We are early-to-bedders at our house -- I guess I'm the first to retire.
And as I'd leave the room he'd look at me
And get up from his place by the fire.
He knew where the tennis balls were upstairs,
And I'd give him one for a while.
He would push it under the bed with his nose
And I'd fish it out with a smile.
And before very long He'd tire of the ball
And be asleep in his corner In no time at all.
And there were nights when I'd feel him Climb upon our bed
And lie between us,
And I'd pat his head.
And there were nights when I'd feel this stare
And I'd wake up and he'd be sitting there
And I reach out my hand and stroke his hair.
And sometimes I'd feel him sigh and I think I know the reason why.
He would wake up at night
And he would have this fear
Of the dark, of life, of lots of things,
And he'd be glad to have me near.
And now he's dead.
And there are nights when I think I feel him
Climb upon our bed and lie between us,
And I pat his head.
And there are nights when I think I feel that stare
And I reach out my hand to stroke his hair,
But he's not there.
Oh, how I wish that wasn't so,
I'll always love a dog named Boo!
1981 - James Stewart
- I would love to change the world, but they won’t give me the source code.