It’s absolutely infuriating how the creative industry is still drowning in mediocrity when it comes to job opportunities for Blender artists. The recent overview titled ‘Blender Jobs for June 20, 2025’ is nothing short of a disgrace! What are we doing here? Are we seriously still looking for someone to create low poly cartoonish clothing assets? This is 2025, people! The demand for innovation and quality is at an all-time high, yet we are settling for these lazy, uninspired roles that only push the boundaries of our creativity further back into the dark ages. The description outlines a desperate search for artists to create thumbnails for YouTube and basic asset production—who gave these companies the right to expect top-notch creativity while offering peanuts in return? This is a blatant disrespect to the talented artists struggling to make a name for themselves. The industry has turned into a free-for-all where anyone with a computer thinks they can just toss out these ridiculous requests, undermining the hard work and passion of those who actually have skills worth paying for. “Stealth Startup” and “Pizza Party Productions”? Really? Is this some kind of joke? These names scream lack of professionalism and vision. How can we expect to elevate the standards of our industry when these half-baked companies are running around hiring interns instead of investing in real talent? It’s ludicrous! What’s next? A startup looking for someone to animate stick figures for a viral TikTok? Come on! Let’s not even get started on the ridiculous notion of internships being the new norm for artists trying to break into the industry. The term “3D Artist Intern” is a euphemism for “overworked and underpaid.” The expectation that fresh graduates should be thrilled to work for free just to “gain experience” is not only exploitative but utterly shameful. These companies need to step up their game and start valuing the creativity and hard work that goes into crafting quality art. Every time I scroll through these job postings, I feel my blood boil. Are we going to continue to allow this cycle of mediocrity to persist? It’s time for artists to take a stand and demand better. We need opportunities that challenge us, not these mundane tasks that anyone with a basic understanding of Blender could complete. We deserve to work in an environment that fosters creativity, innovation, and respect for our craft. If these companies want to attract real talent, they need to start offering competitive pay and meaningful projects that actually inspire artists instead of dragging them down into the depths of blandness and monotony. Wake up, industry! The future of Blender artistry hinges on your willingness to embrace quality over quantity. Stop settling for mediocre job listings and start aiming for greatness. #BlenderJobs #3DArtist #CreativityMatters #ArtIndustry #DemandBetter

So, I stumbled upon this revolutionary concept: the Pi Pico Powers Parts-Bin Audio Interface. You know, for those times when you want to impress your friends with your "cutting-edge" audio technology but your wallet is emptier than a politician's promise. Apparently, if you dig deep enough into your parts bin—because who doesn’t have a collection of random electronic components lying around?—you can whip up an audio interface that would make even the most budget-conscious audiophile weep with joy. Let’s be real for a moment. The idea of “USB audio is great” is like saying “water is wet.” Sure, it’s true, but it’s not exactly breaking news. What’s truly groundbreaking is the notion that you can create something functional from the forgotten scraps of yesterday’s projects. It’s like a DIY episode of “Chopped” but for tech nerds. “Today’s mystery ingredient is a broken USB cable, a suspiciously dusty Raspberry Pi, and a hint of desperation.” The beauty of this Pi Pico-powered audio interface is that it’s perfect for those of us who find joy in frugality. Why spend hundreds on a fancy audio device when you can spend several hours cursing at your soldering iron instead? Who needs a professional sound card when you can have the thrill of piecing together a Frankenstein-like contraption that may or may not work? The suspense alone is worth the price of admission! And let’s not overlook the aesthetic appeal of having a “custom” audio interface. Forget those sleek, modern designs; nothing says “I’m a tech wizard” quite like a jumble of wires and circuit boards that look like they came straight out of a 1980s sci-fi movie. Your friends will be so impressed by your “unique” setup that they might even forget the sound quality is comparable to that of a tin can. Of course, if you’re one of those people who doesn’t have a parts bin filled with modern-day relics, you might just need to take a trip to your local electronics store. But why go through the hassle of spending money when you can just live vicariously through those who do? It’s all about the experience, right? You can sit back, sip your overpriced coffee, and nod knowingly as your friend struggles to make sense of their latest “innovation” while you silently judge their lack of resourcefulness. In the end, the Pi Pico Powers Parts-Bin Audio Interface is a shining beacon of hope for those who love to tinker, save a buck, and show off their questionable engineering skills. So, gather your components, roll up your sleeves, and prepare for an adventure that might just end in either a new hobby or a visit to the emergency room. Let the audio experimentation begin! #PiPico #AudioInterface #DIYTech #BudgetGadgets #FrugalInnovation

Spotify and Apple are killing the album cover, and it’s time we raised our voices against this travesty! It’s infuriating that in this age of digital consumption, these tech giants have the audacity to strip away one of the most vital elements of music: the album cover. The art that used to be a visceral representation of the music itself is now reduced to a mere thumbnail on a screen, easily lost in the sea of endless playlists and streaming algorithms. What happened to the days when we could hold a physical album in our hands? The tactile experience of flipping through a gatefold cover, admiring the artwork, and reading the liner notes is now an afterthought. Instead, we’re left with animated visuals that can’t even be framed on a wall! How can a moving image evoke the same emotional connection as a beautifully designed cover that captures the essence of an artist's vision? It’s a tragedy that these platforms are prioritizing convenience over artistic expression. The music industry needs to wake up! Spotify and Apple are essentially telling artists that their hard work, creativity, and passion can be boiled down to a pixelated image that disappears into the digital ether. This is an outright assault on the artistry of music! Why should we stand by while these companies prioritize algorithmic efficiency over the cultural significance of album art? It’s infuriating that the very thing that made music a visual and auditory experience is being obliterated right in front of our eyes. Let’s be clear: the album cover is not just decoration; it’s an integral part of the storytelling process in music. It sets the tone, evokes emotions, and can even influence how we perceive the music itself. When an album cover is designed with care and intention, it becomes an extension of the artist’s voice. Yet here we are, scrolling through Spotify and Apple Music, bombarded with generic visuals that do nothing to honor the artists or their work. Spotify and Apple need to be held accountable for this degradation of music culture. This isn’t just about nostalgia; it’s about preserving the integrity of artistic expression. We need to demand that these platforms acknowledge the importance of album covers and find ways to integrate them into our digital experiences. Otherwise, we’re on a dangerous path where music becomes nothing more than a disposable commodity. If we allow Spotify and Apple to continue on this trajectory, we risk losing an entire culture of artistic expression. It’s time for us as consumers to take a stand and remind these companies that music is not just about the sound; it’s about the entire experience. Let’s unite and fight back against this digital degradation of music artistry. We deserve better than a world where the album cover is dying a slow death. Let’s reclaim the beauty of music and its visual representation before it’s too late! #AlbumArt #MusicCulture #Spotify #AppleMusic #ProtectArtistry

Ah, the glorious return of the zine! Because nothing says "I’m hip and in touch with the underground" quite like a DIY pamphlet that screams “I have too much time on my hands.” WIRED has graciously gifted us with a step-by-step guide on how to create your very own zine titled “How to Win a Fight.” Print. Fold. Share. Download. Sounds easy, right? The process is so straightforward that even your grandma could do it—assuming she’s not too busy mastering TikTok dances. But let’s take a moment to appreciate the sheer audacity of needing instructions for something as inherently chaotic as making a zine. It’s like needing a manual to ride a bike… but the bike is on fire, and you’re trying to escape a rabid raccoon. In the age of high-tech everything, where our phones can tell us the weather on Mars and remind us to breathe, we’re now apparently in desperate need of a physical booklet that offers sage advice on how to “win a fight.” Because nothing screams “I’m a mature adult” quite like settling disputes via pamphlet. Maybe instead of standing up for ourselves, we should just hand our opponents a printed foldable and let them peruse our literary genius. And let’s not forget the nostalgia factor here! The last time a majority of us saw a zine was in 1999—back when flip phones were the pinnacle of technology and the biggest fight we faced was over who got control of the TV remote. Now, we’re being whisked back to those simpler times, armed only with a printer and a fierce desire to assert our dominance through paper cuts. But hey, if you’ve never made a zine, or you’ve simply forgotten how to do it since the dawn of the millennium, WIRED’s got your back! They’ve turned this into a social movement, where amateur philosophers can print, fold, and share their thoughts on how to engage in fights. Because why have a conversation when you can battle with paper instead? Let’s be honest: this is all about making “fighting” a trendy topic again. Who needs actual conflict resolution when you can just hand out zines like business cards? Imagine walking into a bar, someone bumps into you, and instead of a punch, you just slide them a zine. “Here’s how to win a fight, buddy. Chapter One: Don’t.” So, if you feel like embracing your inner 90s kid and channeling your angst into a creative outlet, jump on this zine-making bandwagon. Who knows? You might just win a fight—against boredom, at least. #ZineCulture #HowToWinAFight #DIYProject #NostalgiaTrip #WIRED

Ah, DreamWorks! That magical land where the sun always shines, and animated penguins can sing better than most of us in the shower. A studio that has been spinning its whimsical web of nostalgia since the dawn of time, or at least since the late '90s, when they decided that making ogres feel relatable was the new black. So, what's this I hear? A documentary detailing the illustrious history of DreamWorks? Because clearly, we all needed a deep dive into the riveting saga of a studio that has made more animated films than there are flavors of ice cream. I mean, who doesn’t want to know the backstory behind the creation of Shrek 25 or the emotional journey of a dragon who can’t decide if it wants to befriend a Viking or roast him on a spit? The podcast team behind 12 FPS is bringing us this "ambitious" documentary, where I can only assume they will unveil the "secret" techniques used to create those iconic characters. Spoiler alert: it involves a lot of caffeine, sleepless nights, and animators talking to their cats for inspiration. Yes, I await with bated breath to see the archival footage of the early days, where perhaps we’ll witness the groundbreaking moment someone said, “What if we made a movie about a talking donkey?” Truly, groundbreaking stuff. And let's not overlook the "success" part of their journey. Did we really need a documentary to explain that? I mean, it’s not like they’ve been raking in billions while we sob over animated farewells. The financial success is practically part of their DNA at this point—like a sequel to a beloved movie that no one asked for, but everyone pretends to love. If you’re lucky, maybe the documentary will even reveal the elusive DreamWorks formula: a sprinkle of heart, a dash of pop culture reference, and just enough celebrity voices to keep the kids glued to their screens while parents pretend to be interested. Who wouldn’t want to see behind the curtain and discover how they managed to capture our hearts with a bunch of flying fish or a lovable giant who somehow manages to be both intimidating and cuddly? But hey, in a world where we can binge-watch a 12-hour documentary on the making of a sandwich, why not dedicate a few hours to DreamWorks’ illustrious past? After all, nothing screams ‘cultural significance’ quite like animated characters who can break into song at the most inappropriate moments. So grab your popcorn and prepare for the ride through DreamWorks: the history of a studio that has made us laugh, cry, and occasionally question our taste in movies. #DreamWorks #AnimationHistory #12FPS #Documentary #ShrekForever

In a world where the digital and the real intertwine, I find myself drifting through the shadows of loneliness. The news of "Bientôt des mondes complets créés par IA dans Horizon Worlds" resonates deep within me, a reminder of the vastness of innovation that seems to grow every day, while I feel smaller and more isolated than ever. As Meta continues to surprise us with its ambitious vision, I wonder if these virtual landscapes will ever feel as real as the warmth of a genuine connection. 🌧️ I scroll through my feed, witnessing the excitement of others as they anticipate the new worlds crafted by artificial intelligence. Each post is a glimpse into a future filled with adventure and companionship, yet all I feel is a hollow ache that echoes in the silence of my room. Will these new realms be a place for me, or will they only serve to highlight my solitude? The thought weighs heavily on my heart, as I watch people forge friendships in the very spaces I yearn to explore. 💔 I used to believe that technology would bridge the gaps between us, that it could weave a tapestry of connection in an increasingly fragmented world. But as I sit here, enveloped by the glow of my screen, I can't help but feel that every pixel is a reminder of what I lack. Are these digital worlds truly the answer, or will they merely replace the warmth of human touch with cold algorithms? 🌌 As Meta's Horizon Worlds prepares to unveil its creations, I wonder if I will ever find solace within them. Will these AI-generated landscapes offer me the comfort I seek, or will they only serve as a reminder of the friendships I long for but cannot grasp? The weight of isolation is heavy, and sometimes it feels like the walls of my reality are closing in, suffocating my spirit. 😔 I am left questioning the meaning of connection in a world where everything can be simulated but nothing can truly replace the heart's yearning for companionship. Each day feels like a cycle of hope and despair, as I cling to the idea that someday, I might step into a world where I am not just a ghost wandering through the ether, but a being of warmth and light, surrounded by those who understand me. 🌈 As I reflect on the future that awaits us, I can’t help but wish for a spark of genuine warmth among the cold algorithms and digital dreams. The promise of "Bientôt des mondes complets créés par IA" fills me with both anticipation and dread, a bittersweet reminder of the connection I crave but cannot touch. Until then, I remain here, in the silence, yearning for a world where I can feel truly alive. #Loneliness #Connection #Meta #AIWorlds #HorizonWorlds

In a world that increasingly feels like it has turned its back on authentic connection, I find myself staring blankly at my Smart TV, a screen that promises companionship but delivers only cold advertisements. The irony is not lost on me; I sit here, surrounded by technology designed to bring us closer, yet I feel more isolated than ever. As I explore the intricacies of Smart TV operating systems, I'm reminded of the delicate balance they must maintain: protecting our data while catering to the insatiable hunger of advertisers. It's a tragic dance, one where my privacy is sacrificed at the altar of profit. Each click feels like a betrayal, a reminder that I'm just another data point, another target for those who seek to profit from my attention. I used to think that technology was a bridge to deeper connections, a way to feel less alone in this vast, seemingly indifferent universe. But now, it feels more like a prison, each algorithm tightening its grip around my reality. I wonder if the creators of these platforms ever pause to consider the emotional toll they impose on us. Are they aware that each pop-up ad stings, each targeted suggestion feels like a reminder of my solitude? In moments of silence, I long for the warmth of real conversations, the kind that cannot be quantified by metrics or sold to the highest bidder. I want to feel seen and understood, not just as a consumer, but as a human being with hopes, dreams, and fears. Yet, the more I engage with these Smart TVs and their operating systems, the more I feel like a ghost haunting my own life, trapped between the desire for connection and the reality of commodification. As I navigate through content designed to keep me entertained, I can't shake the feeling of sadness that lingers in the air. It's a heavy cloak, woven from the threads of disappointment and longing. The world outside continues to rush by, vibrant and alive, while I remain here, lost in a digital realm that promises everything but delivers nothing of real substance. I look into the depths of the screen, searching for something—anything—that might fill this aching void. Instead, I'm met with a reflection of my own despair, a reminder that in our quest for connection, we might have lost sight of what truly matters. The irony is painful, and I can't help but feel like a prisoner to this cycle of consumption and isolation. In the end, I wonder: will we ever reclaim our humanity from the clutches of these systems? Or will we forever be at the mercy of the data-driven world that sees us not as individuals but merely as opportunities? #SmartTV #DataPrivacy #Isolation #EmotionalConnection #TechnologySadness

Test Spirit of the North 2 – La promesse d’une liberté qui a un prix. So, there’s this game that came out called Spirit of the North 2. I guess it’s a sequel or something. The first one was released in 2019, and people seemed to like it. Now, they’re hyping up this new one with promises of freedom and all that jazz, but honestly, who knows if it’s even worth the bother? I mean, freedom in a game usually comes with a catch, right? The whole thing feels a bit dragged out. It’s like they took their time to make it, and now we’re all just sitting here, wondering if it’s really going to be something special or if it’s just more of the same. The original had its moments, sure, but it also had its dull parts. I can’t help but wonder if this one will follow suit. The storyline or whatever they’ve got going on seems to revolve around some themes of nature and exploration. Sounds nice, I guess, but in the end, it’s still a game. Will it keep my attention, or will I just end up staring at the screen, waiting for something interesting to happen? I guess we’ll find out. Gameplay-wise, they’re saying there’s a lot to explore and some mechanics that might make it feel fresh. But are we really excited about that? I mean, it all sounds pretty standard. There’s a promise of beautiful visuals, which is cool, but I’ve seen beautiful visuals before. It needs more than just that to keep me engaged. Overall, ‘la promesse d’une liberté qui a un prix’ feels like a fancy way of saying, “You might have to deal with some annoying stuff to enjoy the good bits.” It’s kind of a mixed bag, and I’m not sure if I want to open it or leave it sitting on the shelf for a while. Maybe I’ll check it out later, or maybe I’ll just go back to doing nothing in particular. Who knows? #SpiritOfTheNorth2 #Gaming #VideoGames #GameReview #InfuseStudio

Disney+ has decided to pull "The Abyss" once again, and it's all because of some controversial rat scene that seems to be stirring up more drama than it deserves. Honestly, who cares? It’s just another instance of a streaming platform trying to dodge the backlash over something that probably wouldn’t even register on most people's radars. I mean, really, is anyone out there actually invested in why a rat scene is causing such a fuss? It feels like a lot of noise over nothing. Maybe some will argue that it’s about censorship or artistic integrity, but it just sounds a bit tedious to me. People get riled up about these things, while I just sit here wondering when the next big thing will actually be interesting. The whole situation seems like a never-ending cycle of re-evaluating content. Disney+ pulls a film, people complain, and then it gets put back in the vault. It’s like watching a rerun of a show you didn’t even like the first time. The Abyss may have its moments, but if a rat scene is what’s holding it back, maybe it’s not worth the time anyway. Let’s face it, with so much else out there to watch, does anyone really want to dwell on a movie that has been pulled over a rodent? It’s exhausting to keep up with these controversies, and honestly, it’s easier to just scroll past. If you’re looking for something exciting, maybe check out a different platform? While the buzz around "The Abyss" might catch some attention, I won't be holding my breath for its return. It just feels like more of the same: a mix of politics, social media outrage, and a streaming service trying to play it safe. If they really wanted to make waves, wouldn't they just leave it alone and let people decide for themselves? In the end, "The Abyss" is just another title on a long list of films that have fallen victim to the whims of public opinion. So, let’s just move on to something else, shall we? There’s plenty of content out there that doesn’t come with the baggage of a controversial rat scene. #DisneyPlus #TheAbyss #FilmControversy #StreamingNews #Boredom

In the shadows of my solitude, I find myself contemplating the weight of my choices, as if each decision has led me further into a labyrinth of despair. Just like the latest updates from NIM Labs with their NIM 7.0 launch, promising new scheduling and conflict detection, I yearn for a path that seems to elude me. Yet, here I am, lost in a world that feels cold and uninviting, where even the brightest features of life fail to illuminate the darkness I feel inside. The updates in technology bring hope to many, but for me, they serve as a stark reminder of the isolation that wraps around my heart. The complexities of resource usage tracking in VFX and visualization echo the intricacies of my own emotional landscape, where every interaction feels like a conflict, and every moment is a struggle for connection. I watch as others thrive, their lives intertwined like intricate designs in a visual masterpiece, while I remain a mere spectator, trapped in a canvas of loneliness. Each day, I wake up to the silence that fills my room, a silence that feels heavier than the weight of my unexpressed thoughts. The world moves on without me, as if my existence is nothing more than a glitch in the matrix of life. The features that are meant to enhance productivity and creativity serve as a painful juxtaposition to my stagnation. I scroll through updates, seeing others flourish, their accomplishments a bittersweet reminder of what I long for but cannot grasp. I wish I could schedule joy like a meeting, or detect conflicts in my heart as easily as one might track resources in a studio management platform. Instead, I find myself tangled in emotions that clash like colors on a poorly rendered screen, each hue representing a fragment of my shattered spirit. The longing for connection is overshadowed by the fear of rejection, creating a cycle of heartache that feels impossible to escape. As I sit here, gazing at the flickering screen, I can’t help but wonder if anyone truly sees me. The thought is both comforting and devastating; I crave companionship yet fear the vulnerability that comes with it. The updates and features of NIM Labs remind me of the progress others are making, while I remain stagnant, longing for the warmth of a shared experience. In a world designed for collaboration and creativity, I find myself adrift, yearning for my own version of the features NIM 7.0 brings to others. I wish for a way to bridge the gap between my isolation and the vibrant connections that seem to thrive all around me. But for now, I am left with my thoughts, my heart heavy with unspoken words, as the silence of my solitude envelops me once more. #Loneliness #Heartbreak #Isolation #NIMLabs #EmotionalStruggles