This story only scratches the surface, but shows how our work in #brain #interface testing can lead to real-world #neurostimulation feedback for disease treatment #TheFutureIsHere #BCI. Now we need to expand the @OpenBCI data collection and @OpenAI systems #BigData

#49 :) Space Invaders Miami by @rvleb_streetart #arturbain #spaceinvader slideshare.net/slideshow/spa… via @Slideshare

Dostoevsky was 28 when they stood him in front of a firing squad. Blindfolded. Hands tied. He could hear the rifles being loaded. At the last second a messenger on horseback arrived. The Tsar had commuted the sentence. The entire execution was staged. Psychological torture designed to break him. It worked. He had a seizure on the spot. They sent him to a labour camp in Siberia. 4 years. Freezing. Starving. Sleeping on wooden planks next to murderers. His epilepsy got worse. He had no paper. No pen. Nothing. When he got out he was broke. His first wife died. His brother died. He inherited his brothers debts. He was so desperate for money he signed a contract with a publisher that would have given away the rights to everything hed ever write if he missed the deadline. He wrote The Gambler in 26 days to make it. Dictated it to a 20 year old stenographer named Anna. Married her three months later. Then the real work started. Crime and Punishment. The Idiot. Demons. The Brothers Karamazov. The greatest novels in the history of the Russian language. Maybe any language. The man who stood blindfolded before the firing squad, who convulsed on the ground while soldiers watched, who slept next to killers in Siberia for 4 years, who was buried in debt and grief. That man wrote: "every minute can be an eternity of happiness." He earned the right to say it. its never over. never give up fren.

R.I.P. king - now you rest

Baller

Damrite - get after it.

"The fish sank, it floats sideways." A translation of the sunk-cost fallacy, apparently. #shitmyturksays

"Why do they call it Licorice, there's nothing '-ish' about it. I'm gonna call it 'Liquor-ice.'" #shitmyturksays

"The one who sleeps with the blind becomes cross-eyed" #shitmyturksays

As Zack de la Rocha said, Wake up x.com/financedystop/status/1…

And so, like the gold of his dreams, he melted.

A message from a Kindergarten teacher: After forty years in the classroom, my career ended with one small sentence from a six-year-old: “My dad says people like you don’t matter anymore.” No sneer. No malice. Just quiet honesty — the kind that cuts deeper because it’s innocent. He blinked, then added, “You don’t even have a TikTok.” My name is Mrs. Clara Holt, and for four decades, I taught kindergarten in a small Denver suburb. Today, I stacked the last box on my desk and locked the door behind me. When I started teaching in the early 1980s, it felt like a promise — a shared belief that what we did mattered. We weren’t rich, but we were valued. Parents brought warm cookies to parent nights. Kids gave you handmade cards with hearts that didn’t quite line up. Watching a child sound out their first sentence felt like magic. But that world slowly slipped away. The job I once knew has been replaced by exhaustion, red tape, and a kind of loneliness I can’t quite describe. My evenings used to be filled with construction paper, glitter, and glue sticks. Now they’re spent filling out digital reports to protect myself from angry emails or lawsuits. I’ve been yelled at by parents in front of twenty-five children — one filming me with his phone while I tried to calm another child mid-meltdown. And the kids… they’ve changed too. Not by choice. They arrive tired, anxious, overstimulated. Their tiny fingers know how to swipe a screen before they can hold a crayon. Some can’t make eye contact or wait in line. We’re expected to fix all of it — to patch the gaps, heal the trauma, teach the curriculum, and document every move — in six hours a day, with resources that barely fill a drawer. The little reading corner I once built, full of soft beanbags and paper stars, was replaced by data charts and “learning metrics.” A young principal once told me, “Clara, maybe you’re too nurturing. The district wants measurable results.” As if kindness were a weakness. Still, I stayed. Because of the small, holy moments that no spreadsheet could measure — a whisper of, “You remind me of my grandma.” a shaky note that read, “I feel safe here.” a quiet boy finally meeting my eyes and saying, “I read the whole page.” Those tiny sparks were my reason to keep showing up. But this last year broke something in me. The aggression grew sharper. The laughter in the staff room turned to silence. The light went out of so many eyes. I watched brilliant teachers — my friends — vanish under the weight of burnout, their joy replaced by survival. I felt myself fading too, like chalk on a board that’s been wiped one too many times. So today, I began my goodbye. I pulled faded art off the walls and tucked thirty years of handmade cards into a single box. In the back of a drawer, I found a letter from a student from 1998: “Thank you for loving me when I was hard to love.” I sat on the floor and cried. No party. No applause. Just a handshake from a young principal who called me “Ma’am” while checking his notifications. I left my rocking chair behind, and my sticker box too. What I carried with me were the memories — the faces of hundreds of children who once trusted me enough to reach out their hands and learn. That can’t be uploaded. It can’t be measured. It can’t be replaced. I miss when teachers were partners, not targets. When parents and educators worked side by side, not in opposition. When schools cared more about wonder than numbers. So if you know a teacher — any teacher — thank them. Not with a mug or a gift card, but with your words. With your respect. With your understanding that behind every test score is a heart that cared enough to try. Because in a world that often overlooks them, teachers are the ones who never forget our children.

This is big! Shout out to the motivated woman I met in line at a concert, with 4 children and recently divorced after finding out her father had Huntington's, and her mother kept it secret until her sister started showing signs. She tested negative ✊ bbc.com/news/articles/cevz13…

Finally....there's my flying car

Neurologist. Can confirm.

Those are rookie numbers, right @CeribellEEG?

Standard of care for intractable epilepsy treatment - - with less preparation.

Doctor in here. I doubt this is true. But even if it was true and a doctor indeed burned healthcare dollars to satisfy the petition of a member of the public, the positive test is meaningless. I am not going to give a whole course on Bayesian statistics in here, but I will give you the basics. Test have uncertainty, meaning you can have false positive or false negatives tests. How do we account for this when making a clinical decision? First, you need to formulate a belief about the disease. “I believe there is x probability of patient having this disease vs y probability of this other disease vs z probability of that other disease,” and so on. After one has formulated this based on clinical gestalt gathered through years of experience and reading, then you perform a test. Tests are going to have something called and - likelihood ratios (LR), this is something intrinsic to the test within the specific population in which it was validated/calibrated. So you get your belief about the disease, you turn it into odds of having the disease. If the test is positive you multiply your odds of disease by your LR, if negative by - LR, simple arithmetic. Then after that, you back transform your odds to probability, and you have your post-test probability of the disease. If the test came back positive, and your post-test is higher than your pretest, then you think “well based on this current evidence there is x probability patient has the disease, the treatment would be this, and that treatment has an incidence of x and y of adverse effects, do the benefits outweigh the risks?” If the answer is yes you proceed, if the answer is uncertain you have a deep conversation with family and explain the uncertainty, if the answer is no, you do not proceed. And of course if your probability gets virtually decimated when the test comes back negative, then you keep investigating for other maladies responsible for the clinical presentation. Ideally you should only be performing tests that are going to meaningfully move your pretest probability so you can rule in or rule out disease, otherwise you are burning dollars. Why is the physician relevant? Because the formulation of this pretest probability is an incredibly complex process, we are really sophisticated organic Bayesian neural networks. If your pretest is extremely low, even when the test comes back positive, if you multiply it by the LR, the post test is still extremely low, meaning it did not provide you with any meaningful information (test is meaningless). For all members of the public, training physicians, or doctors who have not refined their way of processing information, please do not randomly order tests. I hope this helps.

Totally this - come on in, the water's fine

What is this nonsense #XRPArmy watch out - botfarm scam is hitting every local news site