In the process of working on a customer migration and came up with a neat query for finding tables that don’t have a primary key:
SELECT c.oid::REGCLASS::TEXT AS table FROM pg_class c JOIN pg_namespace n ON (n.oid = c.relnamespace) LEFT JOIN pg_constraint p ON (p.conrelid=c.oid AND p.contype = 'p') WHERE c.relkind IN ('p', 'r') AND n.nspname NOT IN ('pglogical', 'information_schema', 'bdr') AND n.nspname NOT LIKE 'pg\_%' AND p.conrelid IS NULL; For anyone out there that is using pglogical, this is how you figure out if there are any tables that won’t work in the default replication set.
For some reason last night, I dreamed that I was going to give a speech some time later, and as part of it, I wanted to recite the opening of the Canterbury Tales. I believe my intent was to denote that the beauty of the prose can only be truly conveyed with proper pronunciation of the Middle English that has essentially been lost to time with the evolution of the language.
So, it’s nice to know that Time Magazine has essentially admitted that the election was manipulated. At least they’re being honest about it now, though using Weasel Words to obfuscate a bit for plausible deniability.
“Steering media coverage” is the definition of manipulation
I was going to post some huge analysis of how there were tons of inconsistencies, the fact that the challenge lawsuits never even made it to court so the evidence was never heard, or the fact that we should all want audits to reach consensus to finally put this to rest.
Though I don’t quite know the exact day Luna was born, I know it was some time in late August of 1999. This means a cat I adopted shortly after I graduated from college is now 21 years old.
I had just brought Luna home.
When I stop to think about it, that’s a staggeringly long time. Up until now, the oldest cat I’d ever seen was my grandma’s cat Boo-Boo, a beautiful Russian Blue she found playing in one of her wood piles one day.
Sleep is the crank that turns the engine, and mine has long since snapped at the axle.
I don’t blog much anymore, a thing I realized once it became obvious even to me. I didn’t wax nostalgic about turning 40. I didn’t say goodbye to the home where I’d spent the last six years. I didn’t gush about the Porsche Cayman I recently purchased to fulfill an old childhood dream. No espousing about Keto, either recipes or studies.
