I can't believe you forgot the five thousand dollar HDMI cable! That's the most important part! Never mind the fact that most HDMI cables do basically the same thing and have very few specialized features, don't think about it. Never mind the fact that gold plating is worthless on a digital signal. Spend five thousand dollars on a gold plated HDMI lead, right now!
You can never go wrong with AudioQuest. If you want overpriced cable nonsense, they got you covered.
Meet the Dragon “10K” HDMI cable.
For a cool $2300 you can get “Level 7 Noise Dissipation.”
LEVEL 7!!!!!
Check out this totally scientific description of this feature…
“Traditional “100% shielding” is not enough to guard against the increasingly prevalent effects of Wi-Fi, cellular, and satellite radiation. In AudioQuest HDMI cables, all 19 conductors are Direction-Controlled to minimize the RF Noise that damages performance by “directing” or draining it away from the most vulnerable circuits. In Level 7 Noise Dissipation, high-loss graphene is added to the carbon layer sandwiched between layers of metal around the 4 FRL + eARC pairs, a "global” high-loss carbon layer is placed around all conductors, we incorporate our patented 72v Dielectric-Bias System, and even the drain wires are 100% Perfect-Surface Silver.“
I’m sure all of that would hold up to scientific scrutiny.
I mean, sure, you are just transferring 1s and 0s back and forth, and as long as all of the 1s and 0s get where they need to go, your picture will look exactly the same with a $10 cable as it does with a $2300 cable… but I really do need that Level 7 dissipation. My house is constantly flooded with satellite radiation.
Yes, there are shitty HDMI cables. And some of them struggle to meet the bandwidth they claim on the packaging. This will cause no picture or sound or it will cause dropouts or skipped frames. Sometimes you will get crazy artifacts that pop in and out. But you cannot improve video or audio quality with a fancy cable.
You will not see magical colors so bright you cum in your shorts.
You will not hear indescribably intense bass that will violently vibrate your testicles–killing your sperm. That was microplastics, okay?
You will get the data that was encoded into the media file.
You just need a cable that can pass along that data without incident. Buying a "good” cable is actually recommended. Blue Jeans Cable is a great brand that has high quality control standards and a good warranty. They are a little spendy, but everything is a good value.
Their website is built on ancient GeoCities technology…
So you know they prioritize their budget toward R&D and product design over graphic designer or a subscription to Squarespace.
I buy their cables because they always meet the data bandwidth they claim and they can take abuse due to using tougher materials that last.
My best advice when buying an HDMI or other data cable is to figure out how much bandwidth you need, and then make sure in the product description they mention the data rate.
So if you want 4K resolution at 60 Hz, you will need a cable that does at least 18 gigabits per second. If you need 4K/120Hz/4:4:4/12 bit, then the bandwidth should be 48 Gbps. And if you get more bandwidth than you actually need, the cable is backwards compatible.
Here is a handy chart…
USUALLY, if they list the actual data rate (Gbps) in the product description, you can trust they certified it can pass that much data through. It’s when you don’t see any Gbps rating in the product description that you should move on to another cable.
(USB standards are insanely confusing, but the same advice applies. Try to find out the data rate you need and research to make sure the cable is capable of that.)
I’m afraid all of this cable nonsense goes back a long way. When I turned 16 I immediately applied for a job at Best Buy selling computers. And I really loved that job. So many people were clueless about computers back then and I was very good at assessing their needs and making sure they went home with the equipment and accessories that would suit them within their budget.
And if they tried to buy the eMachines computers, I would tell them they might as well set their money on fire.
Throw directly into trash because this is some hot garbage.
Unfortunately my managers pressured me to sell warranties and accessories that I didn’t really believe in. The hardest thing they asked me to do was sell people gold-plated printer cables. This is back when printers still used a parallel port connection.
They wanted me to sell these for $40 to $60 (depending on length).
Even though these bad boys did the exact same thing for only $20.
I could actually see on the store’s computer how much markup these cables had. The cheap ones cost Best Buy the exact same amount as the gold ones.
Maybe they weren’t as aesthetically pleasing, but those cheaper cables were built like fuckin’ tanks. I probably still have some of these in my basement that would function just as well as they did 25 years ago.
The ONLY difference was the “gold” contacts on the ends. But my managers told me to lie to customers. I was to tell them you would get much faster print speeds, better colors, and more DPI (dots per inch). But both cables sent the same 1s and 0s. They either worked or they didn’t. The only tiny advantage is that gold contacts are slightly less resistant to corrosion over time. But I have yet to see that happen within the lifespan of any cable.
So I would tell customers it was a waste of money and lie to my managers saying the customers weren’t interested.
“Did you tell them it was faster?” “Yes.” (A lie.) “Did you tell them it made the colors better?” “Yes.” (Also a lie.) “Well, we’re going to have to work on your sales presentation skills.” “Sounds good, boss.” (Whatever, dude.)
The evil-queen-to-be looked into the magic mirror and asked: “Am I beautiful?”
The mirror had not been addressed in many years, hanging like an island in the center of the iron chamber. The curtain was gone though. The room smelled of dust. There was light somewhere, oh lords, there was light.
The mirror, a phantom outline on the surface, peered down. A girl stood, hooked nose, thin lips, dark hair the texture of crow’s feathers, and ruddy skin– both too pale and flushed all at once. Teeth like overlapping piano keys and body gangly as a newborn calf. She wore the finest gown of deep purple, heavy and dragging on the dirty floor.
Her chin wobbled. She had a determined set to her gaze, but her cheeks were tear-stained, and eyes as red as daybreak, at least the types of daybreak the mirror could still remember. The mirror tilted her head.
“Am I beautiful?!” the girl repeated and stomped her foot this time, pinpricks of tears spilling out. There was a purpling welt across her right cheek, a bruise forming with a tinted yellow edge. She must be an island as well.
The mirror closed her eyes. She nodded. “You will be. You have been. You are.”
The girl’s eyes went large as entire skies, at least, the type of skies the mirror could still remember. “Promise?” It was a child’s whisper.
“I do not make promises,” the mirror replied, and the girl huffed.
“Fine.” The curtain returned.
———————-
“Am I beautiful?”
The evil-queen-to-be was taller now, growing into herself. Her hollow cheeks had rounded, and teeth slowly straightened out through small spells and larger ones. The mirror had felt when she found that little black book, a moldy, stained thing, fleshy and dank. The mirror did not always spread her awareness out into the lives of men, but there was no ignoring the tremor through the air that night.
“Did you hear me?” The girl had returned, on the cusp of forgoing shorter hems and growing into the adult ones.
The mirror hummed. “You again. My girl.”
“You again, my mirror.” The girl sneered. She narrowed her eyes. “Do you even have a name?”
“No.” The mirror responded. “Do you?”
The girl rolled her eyes. “I suppose you do not hear them yelling it through the hallways, Esme! Esme! Foolish, tricky girl.”
“I do not hear them. No.”
The girl blinked several times. “Oh.”
“Esme.” The mirror tried out the name.
“You may call me Lady Esme.” She sniffed loudly and crossed her arms. “I’m nobility.”
“Of course, my lady.” The mirror inclined her head. “Ask your question then.”
The girl considered her for a long moment. “Am I beautiful?”
“Have you not asked before?”
The girl flushed a deep red and glared at her shoes. “You’re just like everyone else.” She twisted in place to leave.
“Of course,” the mirror murmured. “You are beautiful.”
Esme glanced shyly over her shoulder. “Really? You promise?”
“I do not make promises.”
The door slammed, but the curtain did not return.
——————–
“Mirror, mirror on the wall,” the young woman sang and skipped. “Who should I poison at the ball?” She carried a flower and small book tucked away at her side. The mirror had watched her fill the book with cramped tiny handwriting, coded through a complex numerology.
It was filled with the secrets of the tomes she unearthed and more she made herself. “Mirror, mirror on the wall,” she kept singing. “Who should I poison with my comb?”
“You jest.” The mirror spoke slowly. “But if you must poison one, poison the only son of the Duke of Engles. He plans to bed a scullery maid and will not be easily deterred by no.”
The evil-queen-to-be stopped in place and faced the mirror. Her clever face and clever eyes were cold and sharp. She was older now. “Noted,” she said thoughtfully and plucked at the flower in her hand. She lifted her chin up high, “this will be my first showing.”
“I know.” The mirror replied. “You will dance and make merry. Be careful of the wine, my lady.”
“How do you know so much?” Esme squinted and leaned forward. “What exactly do you know?”
“I know everything reflected in the world of men and more.” The mirror said and watched the light fall across the floor. She still wasn’t facing the window, and how her chest ached for it.
“But how?” Esme insisted.
“I am old,” she stated simply.
Esme rolled her eyes. “Well, I could have guessed that.”
“But ageless. Time cannot touch me, nor can I touch it. But I can peer through its many threads into the greater tapestry.”
Esme tilted her head thoughtfully, mind at work. “So,” she said with a cat-like smirk. “I really will be beautiful.”
“You are. You have been. You will be.”
Esme went blank for a moment before turning in place. “I must prepare for my debut on the market.” She sprouted an edged grin and looked over her shoulder. “And who should I marry there, my mirror?”
The mirror did not blink. “The king.”
Esme’s eyes lost their mischief, she frowned, and closed the door softly.
—————
“They’ll burn me, they’ll burn me!” Esme cried and paced back and forth. She was still wearing a luscious green gown with bell-shaped sleeves. It was torn in places, sullied. “Dammit, they know!’
You have to be willing to sit through horrible albums sometimes to look for new music and you might find it impossible but it’s what makes life worth living to me. it takes the discipline of a warrior to be a true music lover not everyone can survive it
idk what traumatized or mentally ill person needs to hear this but dreams (especially the really disturbing ones you dont want to talk about to anybody) arent some deep peek into your psyche or a sign of your True Desires or whatever theyre quite literally your brain making fruit salad with whatever it can find on the shelf. just putting all that shit in a blender and hitting obliterate. its fine, youre fine, youre not a weirdo for it
i hate you shein. i hate you wish. i hate you temu. i hate you aliexpress. i hate you fast fashion. i hate you consumerism. i hate you planned obsolescence. i hate you plastics.
You jest - but once during a guided tour in a German forest, the Förster said “And if it suddenly starts smelling of Maggi, beware that there are wild boars around. They smell like that, very strongly.”
it is NOT set as an insult, its set as a primal omegaverse love story in the depths of the Black Forest where i protect my sweet smelling omega from wild boars und dem Holländermichel
