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In this article we focus on the presentation of the inner structure of the database for the Content-Based Image Retrieval (CBIR) system containing house images. The part devoted to image processing is signalled to the extent necessary for further database (DB) structure explanations to the reader. I recall a very complex and successful machine with dozens of states in at least ten different execution threads, and the technicians could tell everything that was going. Pac 500-1000 PLC or CNC controlled machines/systems. I can also send you a PLC programming guideline which you can refer to when setting up your own PLC coding standard.
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Break. Post generic memes. Post retired topicsIt may have entered our AutoModerator's event horizon. Don't Panic, mods will review it ASAP. Dangerous Links CommunityOfficial.EventsTimes are UTC DateEventDescription2 Sep 11:00 AMWill & guests, playing & discussing the game's news & events3 Sep 7:30 PMElite Dangerous news & discussion live podcast3 Sep 9:00 PMCQC Deathmatch on Xbox One with prizes from Pixel Bandits5 Sep 6:00 PMWill & guests, playing & discussing the game's events5 Sep 7:30 PMNews, banter, CG & GalNet updates, and a bit of music too5 Sep 8:00 PMWeekly Team PvP tournaments and battles6 Sep 7:00 PMWeekly CQC games7 Sep 2:00 AMSpace sim news & discussion livestreamcreated. Well then children, gather roundIt all started on a balmy morning, in the Gregorian month of ‘July’.
A woman, who was later to become my mother was reclined in a Hospital bed, in the city of Sheffield, England, the sixth city of the largest nation in the United Kingdom. Beset with agonising pain, she gave birth to a human male, as many women in labour do. That human male was I, Jimmy, and as my father remarked in what must have been an anxious attempt at humour, I had two legs.The early years are a blur to me now, but I’m told I spent my time engaged in such activities as crying, eating, learning to perambulate in ever more efficient ways, and staring at dogs. As is often the case with human young, I began to attend an educational facility known as a ’school’ at the age of five, where I earned such accolades as “he’s a very nice boy”, and “he always gives 100%”, achievements of which I remain proud of to this day. The following few years were a mix of simple arithmetic, learning to read, the ever pleasant Friday lego sessions, and the premature death of my father.
Some say that the death of my male role model made me into the man I am today, which is unfortunately a man who can’t do DIY or perform other manly tasks, something I’ve always had trouble forgiving my father for.Fast forward a few years to the age of fifteen, to see me about to leave the comprehensive school I spent the previous 5 years attending, and you find a young man preparing to take the examinations known as G.C.S.E’s. A rather pointless set of papers, I was pleasantly surprised at achieving mostly ‘C’ grades, an astonishing feat for a student of a learning establishment playing host to arsonists and future professional frozen chicken inspectors. One illustrative memory of this place is of wondering where my friend Scott was one morning, before finding out he had been suspended for tattooing ‘CUNT’ on the knuckles of one of his hands. I never saw Scott again, but I often wonder where life took him, what challenges he’s since overcome, and what branch of academia he pursued at a, no doubt prestigious, seat of learning.CONTINUED BELOW!. The next few years of my life were unremarkable to say the least. I spent the years working as a vegetable picker in the fields of South Lincolnshire, a job that entailed walking in line with Lithuanian immigrants and hacking cabbages out of the ground with machetes.
I learned some colourful phrases in both Russian and Lithunanian during my service, most of which were variations of ‘go faster, fat english man’. Towards the end of my glorious tenure in the South Lincolnshire fens, I began to suspect there must be more to life than getting up at 4am to walk across farmland, smiting vegetables and getting shouted at by ex-military eastern europeans holding lethal weapons, so I started to weigh up my options. It all changed one afternoon, when returning from work I jokingly told my girlfriend I was tired of this and would attend a university. Her derisive response was, and I quote ad verbatim, “Ha, you’re too stupid to go to university”, a response made all the more hurtful because she couldn’t really read. Nothing says ‘sort your life out’ like being called stupid by an adult yet to master a task accomplished by most 6 year olds, so purely out of spite, I decided to apply to various institutions of higher education.Three years later, I stood perplexed, about to receive a certificate proving I had a BSc in computer science from a top ten university, that I earned totally out of spite for my now ex-girlfriend.
Heck, I didn’t really have any interest in computers, and other than an Atari st I played games on as a child, hadn’t even owned such a machine before the age of 21. Anyway, determined to put my newfound skills to practice, I stared to apply for jobs.
I didn’t really expect anything to come of it, and presumed I’d end up back on the cabbage fields after sending a photocopy of my diploma to my ex-girlfriend. Of all the things I learned at university, the most important was a fact about myself: I learned that I am indeed very stupid, and somewhere beyond petty. I went to the preposterous lengths of getting a degree in a difficult subject I didn’t really care about, at the expense of 3 years of my life, and thousands of pounds of debt, just so I could say “HA! Look at this, bitch, now who’s stupid!” to a woman who has no recollection of ever saying such a thing, and to her credit, now apologises for.Since those heady days, my career has only got more surreal. I spent time writing trading applications for investment banks, writing utility software for Activision, as well as logistical problem solving programs for Camelot.
I’m now a consultant software engineer pimping my skills out to the highest bidder, the only link to my previous past being the gold tooth I once thought made me look hard, and the cabbages I until recently tended in my rather stupidly large Kent back garden. I often like to trace back the steps that led me from my humble roots to where I am today in my head, and I always come to the conclusion that if it wasn’t for my terrible education and awful ex-girlfriend, I would never have met my wonderful wife, Renata. You see, whilst working at Activision, I struck up a friendship with a fellow software engineer, Ralph. As many people in the software industry will attest to, a large amount of time was spent playing ping pong and getting coffee, times during which Ralph and I would trade stories of our pasts, and talk about our current lives, an activity I call ‘conversation’. During one such ‘conversation’, I found he was about to be wed to a Polish lady by the name Ewa, although it’s worth noting that in Poland, they like to pronounce the ‘w’ as we in English would pronounce a ‘v’, meaning her name was more usually pronounced ‘Eva’. Despite her trouble with spelling, I found Ewa to be most pleasant upon meeting her, and my good impression earned me an invitation to their wedding in Krakow (see above for information on how to correctly pronounce the name of this city).
I also believe the ‘o’ has a thing on the top of it making it sound more like a ‘u', but I can’t be bothered to find out how to replicate such a marking on my macbook.The wedding was a hit! Ralph, being not short of money, and Ewa, being not short of wanting an awesome wedding, chose a castle on a hill as the venue, and not an expense was spared. Being unwed at the time, I was placed on the singles table, something that Ralph engineered despite my threats of ‘punching him in the dick’ if he did, simply because I found it somewhat humiliating. Little did I know, that Ralph’s lack of concern for the health of his dick would lead to the biggest achievement of my life: pulling a hot chick. Not only was (and still is) Renata hot, she’s also nice (ikr wtf??), something that I since learned is not totally unheard of in Poland, unlike in the United Kingdom (UK).
We hit it off, and over the next few months we flew back and forth and engaged in a ‘long distance relationship’, which is a relationship usually conducted over a long distance. After a few months of tiring weekends travelling, we decided to make a go of it, and Renata joined me in the UK (see above). Such a sudden change was not without its difficulties, but we made it work, and struck up a nice home life. One complication that did arise, stems from my apparent virility, and after going for drinks with my friend Mart, couldn’t be bothered to use a sheath during intercourse.
One shot is all it took, and we’re now the proud owners of a human child of our own. Being responsible for a human child is something like being in prison in the US (I imagine), but the shankings are done less often with broken off and filed down toothbrushes, and more often with sheer, undiluted joy. It’s a bizarre experience, as I never expected to have such love for somebody who WON’T LET ME FUCKING SLEEP, but it’s one I continue to work at, with mixed results.As happy as our home life is, it’s not been without its troubles. I recently secured what we like to refer to as a 'jammy bastard’ contract, that paid me my full rate but allowed for completely remote working.
After being assured that my contract would probably be extended for as long as we wanted, my wife and I decided to leave the overpopulated, banker infested part of London commutable Kent we lived in, and move to Poland for a few months to live with her family and save money. I was most happy with this plan, as it meant I’d be living in a house with her parents who didn’t speak English, leaving me plenty of excuses to dodge upstairs and play video games, and also having lots of meaty food cooked for me by an obsessive elderly Polish woman who seemed determined to keep me full at all times. After first sending my wife and child ahead, I remained behind to settle our affairs and attend a couple of introductory meetings at the new company I would be consulting for. A month later, I was ready to join my small family in central Europe, and literally as I made a cup of tea in the premier inn near the airport, a risk I knew was taking, but never fully expected decided to manifest. I got a phone call from my new boss telling me that the Japanese headquarters had decided that they couldn’t afford to hire a consultant because sales were lower than they predicted, and after my initial three months, of which two were remaining, I’d be forced to find other employment.
![Plc Programmer For Complex Machines And Systems Vietenplus Bielefeld Plc Programmer For Complex Machines And Systems Vietenplus Bielefeld](/uploads/1/2/4/2/124239652/496310761.gif)
DARN, I thought. That’s almost exactly what I hoped and prayed wouldn’t happen. As I punched my stupidly comfortable premier inn bed in frustration, I laughed out loud, or ‘lolled’ at my murphanian luck, and had to make the horrible call to my wife to explain that our dream of relative comfort being waited on by unpaid elderly Polish people for a couple of years was over. A short holiday, followed by having to find a new job, house, and reship our possessions and dogs back to England awaited us.So here I sit, in a rural Polish village while my gaming rig is still in secure transit. I'm deprived of space travel, with nothing but empty desk space where my HOTAS should sit, ready to obey my commands and launch my ships into the unknown void. I've learned a valuable lesson, that you should never sell your house and ship all your belongings and animals to central europe based on the assumption that your temporary contract will last for an un-promised, and lengthy amount of time; a valuable lesson we would all do well to learn.
![Machines Machines](/uploads/1/2/4/2/124239652/634825875.gif)
As I’ve been sat here, writing my account, I have to admit it’s not all bad. My pretty wife brought me tea, and Polish black pudding followed by some cheesecake, while my son looked at me with awe I don’t deserve, breaking into adorable laughter every time I wiggle my ears at him. So I guess it’s not the end of the world.TLDR: I took a risk that backfired and now I’m kind of fucked. In Poland.
Now that we have you, what do you think about the term 'software engineer'? Civil engineers have to look after their creations and essentially swear an oath to that effect, while software programmers throw things over the fence and try to wriggle out of long-term support for their creations.I just find it an interesting debate, and no, I don't think programmers are engineers in the sense of civic duty. Perhaps one exception could be made for the space shuttle coders, since their efforts were single-mindedly focused on getting people to space and back safely, but that's about it.