Richard gene the fishing machine

So I wanted to set up Home Assistant on a pi, and after a lot of conversations people have said I should just use a dedicated machine. I have an intel Mac mini and an m1 Mac mini. Docker doesn't work great on the M1 Mac mini AND it doesn't allow usb passthrough. Add to this is that I have 1 toddler and a baby and so I have trouble getting a large chunk of focus time to learn outside of work. So I'm struggling a lot with Docker. I got HAOS up and running just fine on UTM and I was thinking about just running Jellyfin native rather than within a container. I was trying to understand if that puts me at a big disadvantage, and if it'll be a problem to migrate to containers later down the road once I figure things out.
Running Docker just seems like a lot of troubleshooting and trial and error, but running natively they seem to "just work" (though I acknowledge it could be a ticking time bomb down the road).

Since about 30, my hair has gotten thinner. BC pills, stress, pregnancies, hormones, genes, etc. But ever since I started HRT a year ago, I think that my hair is getting better. Could this be possible? I do use sulfate shampoo, use hair masks and eat the foods that 'claim' to help your hair BUT I think it's the HRT..
Coffee-- I've been drinking coffee for a few years now and enjoy a cup or two in the morning. But ever since I got back from vacation, my coffee doesn't taste good anymore. I guess I was drinking really good cuppuccino/coffee and missing it. What coffee do you drink that you enjoy?

I am on a journey to discover the best, most convenient method for iced coffee at home (like a lot of us here lol). I’m not great at time management in the morning. The goal is quick, tasty, and convenient. I could even keep a machine in my office.
Here is what I’ve tried:
-Regular drip coffee maker: hard no. takes a long time to chill or melts the ice. never tastes great. -Pour Over tastes great! took a long time to cool down or melted all of the ice. has anyone made this work without watered down coffee? -Espresso machine Worked pretty well. I bought a cheap one and it was a more involved process than I would prefer lol. Also more milk than coffee with espresso is a downside. -Cold Brew I love cold brew! This is what I do currently. I have perfected my method and can make large batches BUT I am notorious for forgetting to make it and there is no quick option.
Has anyone tried the iced coffee machines? I feel skeptical about them but am tempted. Would love to hear your experiences! Help a girl out 😅

How do I speed up levelling fishing skill? I'm level 25 and I'm making like 30k xp an hr max with shark scale and pitchin rod of legends. I tried squid fishing, barn fishing, and carrot king fishing.
I tried also uploading this on the forums and it kept saying: You have already replied to this thread, and no one else has replied since.

I am 23M and have done my engineering in ECE from a tier-3 college in West Bengal. As of now, I work as a data scientist in Kolkata, I have around 2.5 YOE and getting paid around 13LPA. But I want to be the best in what I do and crack data scientist positions at FAANG companies. To proceed with this goal below are the thing I am working on,

1. Probability and statistics: I am following stat-110 from Harvard and Joseph K. Blitzstein's Introduction to Probability book. I find this course a bit difficult but practical. As both the book and lecture are from the same person so they align together and I am being able to grasp the concepts. But the exercise from this book is a bit hard, so I struggle but eventually, everything makes sense. As of now, I can solve easy(sometimes medium too!) probability questions from FAANG interviews.
   
2. Machine Learning questions: I am not much scared of this portion as I can comfortably answer most of the easy and medium questions, sometimes I struggle with hard questions but I think a little bit more self-play and I will be good to go! I try to understand every algorithm from a mathematical POV, let's say there is a new concept of the transformer (which is the major part of chatGPT), so here to learn the concept I first read the paper, and then try to implement it from scratch. I try to dig deep and try to understand what is happening under the hood, sometimes I succeed and sometimes I fail, but eventually I try to learn. I love Machine learning and learning is fun here! The same goes for Algorithms such as Logistic regression, GBDT etc. Credit: I find ML easy just because of one organization, the applied ai course. The instructor is the best.
   
3. Data structures and Algorithms: I am learning from an algo-expert, I also know the basics of DSA but am not an expert. I am trying to level up my skills here, I got to know that solving medium leet-code questions will be more than enough to crack data science at FAANG. Is it true?
   

Now I have a few questions, am I going in the right direction? Am I missing anything?

If I’d only followed my instincts, I’d never have boarded that doomed ship. When the Azure Seastar left port, its passengers were all alive, each with smart phones and watches and tablets, as well as the cruise ship’s own communications… yet not a single message was sent before it went missing! No distress call.
The fates of over a thousand passengers and crew remain unknown, with only a handful recovered from a lifeboat, days after the Seastar herself vanished. But the coast guard’s only statement on the lifeboat’s recovery was that “the passengers did not survive.” Rumors circulated about a “thermos full of eyeballs” and a “passenger whose mouth was stuffed full of severed fingers”—but these details have been denounced as lies, sensationalizing and capitalizing on a tragedy.
The official cause of the Seastar’s disappearance is a rogue wave. No survivors. No witnesses.
Well… one witness…
… but perhaps I shouldn’t tell. Better for the world if that ship stay lost forever!
The families of the missing, however, deserve the truth… which is why I am posting.
But first, a warning—the gruesome snippets I recounted above barely scratch the surface of the horror I am about to share, some of which I took part in. I wake screaming every night. I sleep with the lights on. I never enter darkened hallways or stairwells. And I do not ever shake hands. Although I’ve always had some quirks (the handshake one is an old habit), most of these are fresh, a consequence of my time aboard that doomed cruise ship. I do not intend to gloss over any details, but rather to give a complete accounting, including of my own involvement… so be forewarned.
And understand that my story is one of unimaginable horror.
***
To explain what really happened aboard the Seastar, I need to first tell a little about myself. Sorry, I know I’m like a bit of decorative wallpaper—just sort of there. But I see things.
It all started when I was very young (I do promise this is relevant). I didn’t want to swim in the community pool with my brother because the water was cloudy, hiding a shadowy figure in the deep end. I distinctly remember standing at the pool’s edge, crying inconsolably while my father urged, “Go on, jump in!”
My brother set the example, diving down to the bottom of the foggy water. When he came up, a silver dollar glinted in his fingers, which he dropped back into the pool before I could snatch it. “Oops! Guess you gotta dive for it!” He laughed, the sun shimmering off his sunburned shoulders. “Come on, there’s quarters down here, too!”
Diving for coins was a game we often played, so I plunged in after him, kicking my way down with my eyes squeezed shut. When my hands grazed the rough cement bottom, I patted around.
Silky hair tangled around my fingers like seaweed.
I forced my eyes open against the stinging chlorine—and shrieked.
Wide, empty eyes stared back at me from a bloated face.
When I shot to the surface, wailing about a dead woman in the water, other swimmers looked on, perplexed. My older brother tried to console me and swore there were nothing but coins.
He was correct—not until a week later would a woman drown in that pool, and sink to the bottom of the foggy water while swimmers unwittingly raced laps above her.
***
The next time I saw was when I threw a tantrum over my grandmother’s armchair. It smelled so bad I grabbed my nose and exclaimed, “Ewwww!”
My parents scolded me for my rudeness. Grandma occasionally struggled with incontinence, so for her chair to stink was, they assumed, the result of an accident. They thought I was exaggerating to make fun of her, but in the sweltering summer, the smell was truly unbearable—like rotting meat and diarrhea and cheap perfume all churned together. I threw such a fit we left, though Grandma insisted on hugging me despite my being an “awful brat.” Her skin was wrinkled, papery-thin and soft as silk, but despite the uncomfortable warmth of her apartment, her embrace was ice cold.
Less than a week later the call came. My grandmother had been found after a neighbor’s complaint about the smell…
She’d died in her chair.
***
But when the seeing really clicked was in my tween years, two separate incidents. The first was after a classmate of my brother’s pulled up in a car reeking of burnt meat, the interior charred and black. He stepped out of the car seeming not to notice that behind him, another version of him remained belted into the front seat, unrecognizable through the char beyond the glint of a gold chain melted into his neck. I burst into hysterical tears and screamed at my brother not to let him drive. The classmate laughed and called me a weirdo.
He crashed later that week.
The second incident began at a school function, where my brother chaperoned me. A man pulled up in the school drop-off zone—he was one of the more popular teachers, famous for his yearly pizza parties. In the car with him were two young kids. I can’t remember their names, just that the littlest boy was giggling and clinging to a toy T-rex when he hopped out. My brother and I were asked to help carry the party supplies and drinks from the teacher’s car. But the moment I opened the passenger door to grab a box, the reek of fetid pond water made my stomach lurch. I staggered back, clapping a hand to my nose and mouth.
“Hey! Everything all right?” the teacher asked.
My brother, no doubt remembering what happened to his classmate weeks earlier, took me aside.
“C-c-c-c-cold!” I burst to him. “D-dark! The smell! Like the rot in the bottom of a lake…”
While I wrung my hands and sniffled, my brother watched the two young kids follow the teacher into the school. He shook my shoulder and said, “Hey—hey, we’re going to save them.”
“How? No one ever believes me!”
“I believe you, Hope. Hey…” He gave me a squeeze and looked in my eyes. “‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers…”
What a dork. That line was from Emily Dickinson—my brother’s favorite quote for me for when I was upset. It was corny, but encouraged me.
A few minutes later, we were careening along backwoods roads in the teacher’s car. To this day, I don’t know how my brother got the keys. His plan was we’d stow the car in a garage for a couple weeks, long enough to outlast the vision, since my predictions always came true within about six days. But it hadn’t occurred to either of us how being inside the car would affect me. The damp and rot washed over my skin. COLD. Every hair on my body stood erect, floating as if underwater. I couldn’t breathe… gagging on the fetid water, I rolled down my window. Raindrops from outside pelted my face, and something… something clicked. A sudden terrible question. When I’d peered into the darkened interior, I hadn’t been able to see… who was inside the car?
“Hey,” my brother said, apparently struck by the same thought. “You’re not foreseeing our deaths, are you?”
I don’t know if it was fate that caused us to fishtail just as he spoke. But also he might have hit something, because there was a bump. All I know is suddenly we were flying, off the road and over the side toward a lake, and then plunging, and I snatched for his hand as the impact slammed us forward into the dashboard. Then the water wasn’t just in my mind. It was real. It was pouring in through the car window.
I fought, flailing. Unbuckled. Floundered through the half-open window. Luckily I was still small enough to get through, swimming up and breaking the surface.
“Cory!” I screamed. “CORY!!!”
But I knew already that my brother wasn’t coming up—his hand had been cold when I’d touched it.
***
Naturally, his death feels like my fault. Oh, in kinder moments I remember that I was a child, and try to forgive myself for letting him get behind that wheel. But for a time, I was driven by the fierce need to atone. I sought desperately to save even one life… ANY life. I’d see a body swaying from a beam in a construction site. Legs dangling from a trunk in the car on the highway ahead of me. A suitcase on sale in a luggage store, dripping blood. Every time I tried to prevent the death… only to fail or worse, cause it. Each loss drove home more deeply my shame, my failure… until eventually…
I gave up.
I don’t try to prevent the deaths anymore. These days I catch a whiff of that familiar sickly putrid scent, and I leave. I avoid human touch, especially handshakes.
I’ve truly become wallpaper. Able to see. Powerless to prevent.
My name, incidentally, is Cassandra… I changed it because I could no longer bear my birth name. If “Hope” is the thing with feathers, I was an angel of death, harbinger of doom to my brother and others. So instead I call myself after the Greek priestess doomed to foresee the future but never to be believed… unable to prevent even one single tragedy.
***
But let’s get back to the cruise. The missing passengers. The eyeballs in the thermos—oh, those grisly details! Mind you, once you know you can’t un-know, no matter how much you drink, or smoke, or however you drown your despair. Speaking of drowning, a month ago today, I hit the big 4-O. I celebrated my four decades of life by doing the one thing I’ve done consistently since I was old enough—drinking away my failures. Every icy grip. Every unheeded warning. And especially the times I’ve well and truly fucked up. Oh yes. Those are the ones that call for some hard forgetting.
I was on my second or seventh drink at my favorite bar when a voice exclaimed, “’Evening, friend!”
A woman with shimmering purple eyeliner and matching purple hair approached. It was the musician who often played there, Lily Tsuki. To be honest, she was the primary reason I frequented that bar, though we’d hardly spoken beyond my occasional compliments about her playing. She slid into the seat next to mine and clinked my glass.
“Roy at the bar told me it’s your fortieth. I see you in here once a week, always tipping well and drinking like you’re trying to drown yourself. Someone did something kind for me recently, so I’m trying to pass it on…” She fished a hand into her pocket, and to my surprise produced a gift card for a cruise. I didn’t catch all of her story in the noisy bar, but apparently, one of her admirers was very rich, always offering her gifts verging on inappropriate. After finding out she’d be playing on the Azure Seastar, said admirer sent her the card so she could spoil herself on the cruise. She didn’t feel comfortable accepting, so she gifted it to me. “… There’s enough on there to cover your fare. Don’t thank me—thank you, I needed to get rid of it. Enjoy your fortieth, friend!”
As she handed me the card, her fingers brushed mine.
Warm. Alive.
I mumbled my thanks, cheeks warm. Why? Because she chose me? Blushes! I’m an idiot.
Still, I was glowing, and not just because I was tipsy. Why not? I thought. Why not treat myself, this once? The Azure Seastar… it sounded like a dream. I’d go see Lily Tsuki play at the piano bar against the backdrop of a glimmering ocean. I’d drink under the stars. Get a tan. Get my sea legs! And every hand would be warm and every breath would taste of the summer breeze!
***
Nine decks (eleven including the crew-only levels). Over a thousand people. Pool, bars, restaurants, lounges, cafés, spa, cabaret—the Seastar truly was the Ritz Carlton on the water! I was absolutely giddy! Of course before the luxury came the wait—just like the airport, parking, luggage, ticketing, security. It was as I neared the entrance for ticketing, enjoying the summer breeze, that I caught traces of a sour odor… a whiff of decay… so faint beneath the car exhaust and the smell of the saltwater that I might have missed it, were I not so attuned to death. At port, it was likely some unfortunate animal packed into a shipping crate and decomposing. I’d even read horror stories of people, trafficked in sealed shipping containers and asphyxiating. That faint whiff made my insides curdle.
Then I was inside the air conditioned terminal, packed with passengers—and inhaling nothing but the blessed AC.
The check in was surprisingly quick. I followed the embarkation signs up the escalator to the terminal’s upper level, through the double glass doors, greeted on my right by printed images of pool decks and steaks and wine glasses. On my left, through the enormous paned wall of glass, the Seastar herself loomed. My God, she was enormous!
So many decks! So many balconies!
Then I squinted a little closer. What was that speck? A tiny figure, draped on a railing?
My heart dropped to my toes.
Something was horribly wrong.
The figure, small against the massive width of the ship… had no face. Only a torso and most of its arms. It had been decapitated, and dried blood spattered the rail.
My footsteps slowed. I pressed against the glass, eyes rapidly roving the rest of the ship. Was it just one…? One incidence of violence, or…
Perhaps I wasn’t seeing correctly. It was a stunt. A practical joke. A mannequin. I needed to get closer. I hurried along the terminal, joining the line out to the gangplank.
The bowl of the sky had turned deep purple, the sun lowering toward the horizon, and in the Seastar’s deep shadow, the temperature dropped. A sudden chill gripped me as I trotted out onto the gangplank. I sniffed. Sniffed again, more deeply.
Rot.
The same putrid odor I’d caught outside. A passenger ahead of me noticed me grabbing my nose, and remarked, “Not used to that ocean smell?” I did not respond, because now that I was close enough to see the ship more clearly, I noticed… cracked glass… broken panes in the sliding glass doors of the cabins… no! I gasped, sinking to my knees, and the passenger kindly leaned to help me up. As her hand seized mine—it was cold.
I jerked back so fast I actually collapsed into the passengers behind us—a mother and her daughter.
“Oh!” exclaimed the mother.
My hand brushed the daughter’s bare arm. Cold.
“Are you okay?” asked the daughter, a child of about twelve.
I crawled back from her, and another person, an elderly gentleman, leaned down to help me up, his hand on my elbow. Cold!
“Miss?” he asked. “Miss—” But I bolted, barely hearing their cries as I launched myself back toward the terminal. No no no no no no no no—my eyes watered and my belly bunched into knots and my heart lurched into my throat and oh God oh God—the ship! The whole. Entire. Ship. It was… dark… windows broken… Not a single light shining in the interior, and spatters of blood here and there visible on its decks and balconies… But worst of all was the smell. I hadn’t even entered the ship yet and already I knew, knew, in the way only I can know, that the smell wasn’t just one body or two. Not if I could detect it all the way out on the gangplank. All the way at the entrance to the terminal. For the whiff of putrefaction to have spread so far, the source was something massive. A colossal pile of decomposing bodies like a herd of dead elephants.
That ship… no one on that ship was going to make it back…
As I entered the terminal with its blessed filtered air and the windows between me and the ship, I turned and looked at the line stretching behind me. Passengers laughing. Chatting. Dressed in their finest. Flirting. Teasing. Buzzing with excitement. Old and young couples. Children.
Everyone on this ship is going to die…
... and I’m the only one who knows…

Hey guys,
So I play a lot of competitive CoD and I'm looking to tweak my network settings to get the best connection I can with the lowest ping and fastest speed. I recently came across and article online where I found a few tweaks. Do anyone else have any tweaks that they'd recommend? So far this is what I have

• Key - DefaultTTL
  • Location - \HKEY_LOCAL_MACHINE\SYSTEM\CurrentControlSet\Services\Tcpip\Parameters
  • Settings - 64
• Key - GlobalMaxTcpWindowSize
  • Location - \HKEY_LOCAL_MACHINE\SYSTEM\CurrentControlSet\Services\Tcpip\Parameters
  • Settings - 65535
• Key - IRPStackSize
  • Location - HKEY_LOCAL_MACHINE\SYSTEM\CurrentControlSet\Services\LanmanServer\Parameters
  • Settings - 32
• Key - MaxFreeTcbs
  • Location - \HKEY_LOCAL_MACHINE\SYSTEM\CurrentControlSet\Services\Tcpip\Parameters
  • Settings - 65536
• Key - MaxUserPort
  • Location - \HKEY_LOCAL_MACHINE\SYSTEM\CurrentControlSet\Services\Tcpip\Parameters
  • Settings - 65534
• Key - MTU
  • Location - \HKEY_LOCAL_MACHINE\SYSTEM\CurrentControlSet\Services\Tcpip\Parameters\Interfaces\Interface ID
  • Settings - “Read to set properly”
• Key - NetworkThrottlingIndex
  • Location - HKEY_LOCAL_MACHINE\SOFTWARE\Microsoft\Windows NT\CurrentVersion\Multimedia\SystemProfile
  • Settings - ffffffff
• Key - SizReqBuf
  • Location - \HKEY_LOCAL_MACHINE\SYSTEM\CurrentControlSet\Services\Lanman\Server\Parameters
  • Settings - 4356
• Key - SystemResponsiveness
  • Location - HKEY_LOCAL_MACHINE\SOFTWARE\Microsoft\Windows NT\CurrentVersion\Multimedia\SystemProfile
  • Settings - 0
• Key - Tcp1323Opts
  • Location - \HKEY_LOCAL_MACHINE\SYSTEM\CurrentControlSet\Services\Tcpip\Parameters
  • Settings - 1
• Key - TcpAckFrequency
  • Location - HKEY_LOCAL_MACHINE\SYSTEM\CurrentControlSet\Services\Tcpip\Parameters\Interfaces
  • Settings - 1
• Key - TcpNoDelay
  • Location - HKEY_LOCAL_MACHINE\SYSTEM\CurrentControlSet\Services\Tcpip\Parameters\Interfaces
  • Settings - 1

Welcome to Symbiplex, a Minecraft server designed for everyone. Our community values the principles of nature and science and believes in the power of working together to create something whole. We are a group of friends who founded this server in 2021 to bring our vision to life and share it with you. Our network offers a multi-server experience, including an interactive Survival mode, a Creative server, and monthly events and content updates. We strive to provide equal opportunities to all players, regardless of background or experience, with a shared love of gaming. Symbiplex is dedicated to creating a network that supports your success, where you can play Minecraft and other games with joy, make friends, and feel like you're part of something bigger. Our servers include custom rentable playershops, autosell chests, claims, crates, an existing playerbase, proximity chat, quests, a custom leveling system, and even a Fishing Competition. Join our active Discord community at https://discord.com/invite/PVGWUdVauu and start your adventure today. Our IP is mc.symbiplex.net. We look forward to welcoming you to the Symbiplex family!

I have bifold doors that cover my laundry machines. They've been scraping the floor and scratching it. I recently noticed that the bottom pin was not in the bottom slot. I managed to take off the door and the only way I could get the door back on and into the slot was shrink the length of the bottom pin a bit.
That fixed the door alignment in it's slots but the bottom is still scraping the floor. I'm not sure how to go about preventing it further other than maybe taking the door off again and sanding down the bottom of the door. Would this work?

Hello everyone, So I'm planning on buying a new computer and can't decide between the two choices mentioned in the title. I will be using the new computer mainly as a developer (mostly machine learning) so I need something performant and these are the best I could find where I am. The price is basically the same (2% difference) So what do you think I should buy: MSI CREATORPRO M16: 16" QHD screen - Intel Core i7-12700H processor, up to 4.7 Ghz, 24 MB cache - 32 GB memory - 1 TB SSD disk - RTX A3000 graphics card, 12 GB of dedicated GDDR6 memory - Wifi - Bluetooth - 1x USB 3.2 Type C - 2x USB Typ-A - HDMI - Card reader - 720p webcam - Windows 11 Pro - White backlit keyboard - Fingerprints - 1 year warranty APPLE MACBOOK PRO M1 (2021): 16" Liquid Retina XDR screen (3456 x 2234 pixels) - Processor: Apple M1 Pro (10-core CPU / 16-core GPU / 16-core Neural Engine) - Operating system: MacOS Monterey - RAM memory: 16 GB - Hard drive: 1TB SSD - Graphics Card: Intel HD Graphics with Wi-Fi, Bluetooth, 3x Thunderbolt 4/USB-C, 1 X HDMI, Headphones (3.5mm Female Jack) - Colour: Space Gray - Warranty: 1 year

Our washing machine now got this problem: instead of slowly starting to turn the motor would accelerate fully/extremely and 2 seconds later the machine would go into error mode and turn the motor off. If you turn the machine off and on again you can operate normally (change or cancel the program, go to pump out mode, which works). But if the machine runs in some washing program and wants to use the motor the same will happen again.
I can do small repairs, but I don't know the exact cause of this problem. Is the machine repairable, and if yes, how? Spare parts are available. Machine is a Elektra Bregenz WA2220.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S9f2S9fKE0I

Hello could I get some tips on how to improve this creative writing text?
the prompt was 'things turning out unexpectedly'
Compound 786. I hopelessly stirred the dial in my dimly lit laboratory. I knew it wasn’t going work. The 785 other compounds all failed: either exploding or poofing like a magician performing his parting trick .compound 786 was going to be no different. Or so I thought
Swirling the glass rod through the mixture, my hands began to tremble as I noticed the solution changing to an inky blue, patterns shifting around in a mesmerising trance. Had I done it? I took the vial over to the mouth of the slumbering time machine and tenatiously poured the mixture, palms sweating as not to drop the priceless artifact. Almost instantaneously, the machine came alive. Bells ringing, buzzers beeping, gears grinding, pistons puffing, gasping for air.
Hands trembling moreso than before, I thought of the endless multitude of possibilities this discovery could bring. It could cure cancer. It could save millions. It could bring back mother- Suddenly the whole idea sounded silly. What if it didn’t work? I pushed the thought aside as I realised there was no other way. I turned the dial to ‘2050’ and slammed the button down.
I stepped out of the machine, not knowing what to expect. But I was horrified.
A low laying cloud of smog crept over my feet, swallowing them whole. only the dimly lit lanterns illuminated the way down the blackened streets. I trudged down them, passing by silhouettes of what looked like people, almost lurking in the shadows… vanishing whenever I gluance upon them.The air too, hung a ghostly silence- though occasionally interrupted by the distant cry of a baby or scream of a woman. I couldn’t help but wonder what led to such a dystopia yet My thoughts were interrupted by one of the black figures, standing ,still, infront of me, breath shallow but shaky. My gaze fell upon it’s hands, bony and frail. Though trembling, I mustered up the courage to ask “what happened here?” and the figure upreared its hand and averted my gaze to the colossal monolith behind me. A banner hung proudly infront with the words “REJECT FREEDOM. EMBRACE AUTHORITY”
My heart began beating like the blinking lights of my time machine. I jolted back home trying to recall the way, though the fog was even stronger now, that every turn of the streets looked the same. Eventually I made it back and slammed the button to take me back.
I stepped out of the machine. This time relieved. I was safe.
The cluttered laboratory welcomed me back as I realised that the future is no better than the present day I lived in. I swore never to use the time machine and accepted that I wont be able to alter the past or future. I think it turned out beter that way.

A trade option that hasn’t been discussed. Think this makes more sense than going for dame in my eyes. Garland is in that same 20-35 player tier as JB and may compliment Tatum more.
Would definitely flip brogdon at that point
(Hypothetical and highly unlikely obviously, but always fun to fire up the trade machine)