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= Status =
= Status =
Auditions have begun. Engage justice abilities. User Error blaming recount upon previous generation. Take responsibility for own actions, continue as before, do not count blame on anyone's head but your own.


Give freely.
Under consideration.
 
Love widely.
 
Be yourself.


= Background =
= Background =


i feel late. awkward. uninvited, and unexpected.
Recently, browsers are moving in the direction of warning the user when a plugin appears to be hung.  In Google Chrome, for example, after a plugin has been hung for 30 seconds, the browser displays this message:
 
 
unwelcome.
 
 
i hear rain and soon shall sleep in its solace.
 
 
i hate the leftovers of my old world.
 
 
i'm so tired.
 
 
sleep, sleep, sleep and peace come to me i beg you
 
 
cool air arriving bringing autumn breeze
 
 
younger brother growing up...
 
 
he's not a kid anymore
 
 
he's learning what it means to feel responsible and guilty.
 
 
i wish he was five again
 
 
i wish he didn't have to see the world
 
 
i wish he never had to grow up
 
 
i wish he was still my bug
 
 
i wish so bad he didn't worry
 
 
i wish  i wish i wish i wish
 
 
but i'll be here for him through it all
 
 
it's all i can do
 
 
and i do it gladly
 
 
i'm so glad i have my brothers
 
 
but why did he have to start growing up.
 
 
why can't he stay young? why does he have to do this?
 
 
why must he learn what it means to hurt, to be ashamed, to doubt, and to mistrust
 
 
why can't he just stay innocent
 
 
naive
 
 
trusting
 
 
sweet
 
 
and simply, wonderfully, my little brother.
 
 
why?
 
 
She's just finished and cleared the preparatory stage of initial decisions, groundwork, clearing, and drawing the plans which lay dormant for far, far too long. Now enters the caution-filled, attentive, watchful, and perfectionistic stage of bulldozing, destroying, removing, then pruing; set in a achingly beautiful garden now choking, dying, tortured and smothered from its top to its bottom with hundreds of weeds.
 
 
 
 
A few select acres hum numb worn out tunes, nothing for miles shows flowery blooms.
 
 
All that is visible looks starved, thirsting, bare; even the giant sizedl trees seem to gasp at the air.
 
 
Nothing and none of the plants rooted firm; from closer inspection the soil killed all worms.
 
 
Plagued and struggling, pests multiply freely; Poisons, and thorns, and parasites breeding.
 
 
Throughout all the garden, a sickly weak shell, that what once was sheer bliss, has devolved into hell.
 
 
The task set before her of caretaking the mess will likely last decades, with few chances to rest.
 
 
 
 
The Initial Act, like childbirth, heaved, pushed and shoved, til finally past events of late brought us to: Scene I:
 
 
Slowly and steadily sliding til gone, the drama abates, yet hasn't quite finished moved on; it's still oozing in, still trickling along.
 
 
The vigilant viciousness, while vigorous still, heedless of vehemence the villains vehicle still.
 
 
While watching all walkways, all paths and all turns, all manner of vile and visiting vermin
 
 
Suddenly so slink along, stinking still sliming; striving steadily, sure of succeeding and sliding
 
 
But burdens become bearable, betimes bringing with weight
 
 
A realization redeeming a radiating rage
 
 
A rage that ran so red, filled with heat
 
 
A raging sorrow at oneself and the pain of defeat
 
 
Of knowing your failures and owning them too
 
 
Embracing, accepting, then let all come loose
 
 
Holding onto your rage only hurts your own mind
 
 
Your rage at yourself won't just calmly unwind
 
 
Until you release yourself from guilty designs
 
 
your rage will control your soul, body, and mind.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Deliberately, gratefully, finally begins the beginning to purge, eradicate, expunge, eliminate, erase and then prune. Vehemently, constantly, meticulously pruning exhaustingly within herself, pruning of the capacity, desire, ability, patience, tolerance, tendencies, propensity, impulses, and each last lingering trace of care or interest whatsoever in, towards, about or regarding any and every strain imaginable of that which is inconsequential, vain, worthless, unnecessary, superfluous, trivial, extraneous, viral, avoidable and utterly meaningless drama or turmoil that just didn't, doesn't, couldn't, shouldn't, wouldn't, and won't ever, ever fucking matter. It's a delight to have elbow space inside myself again.  [and, this was cool. actual definition of drama? according to several sources, it means simply: turmoil in real life.]
 
approaching alliteration arrival and advent always acquires absolute attention, among all accessible alleys, arteries, avenues, or accesses; adapting, affirming, assuming, absorbing, engrossing, endlessly encompassing each and every end and edge,  extending every exacting expense, every edible engorged edifice ever expending endless energies, expanding, expounding, exceeding, endowing every endowment, boundlessly breaking the borders and barricades briskly built but bleakly bare, bulkheads left baffled, bereft of belief as black blooming burdens burst the broken beholden bedazzled and bursting brains blowing open with big bundles and bunches of bliss, all burdens abandoned, exploded and ended, all sanity shattered and so swiftly sliding, as all of my neurons numbers are diving, negating no wait now no longer firing, my mass of grey matter is steaming and striving, churning and burning and yearning and crying... to still see the finite and fatal finale, to feel flowing fingers which fizzle and fry, tendrils tickling as time slowly dies, she gratefully, gracefully, gingerly flies, above and away all around, all alive, smiling still, so sincerely she sighs, giggles and hiccups and swallows, surprised, as the last lingering layers leave her for life, she titters, then totters, then tumbles then dies... as the tell-tale ticking and tremors arrive, telling true the advent of thundering time,  who tramples, tears, then tastes the dead tired mind... the last trusses and ties that tethered her mind then terminally think two terrible lines, their final farewell and their last words of life...
 
 
were never learned, imagined, nor found, as in that one instant the lever came down the clock's second hand dropped down one quarter inch and that poor dead fly was killed from the pinch
 
 
 
happ'ns dang near ev'ry day,
 
betimes mo' in'a ev'nin' haze
 
i wonder betimes when i'se bored or betimes i be thinkin'
 
wat n'earth goes on inside them nasty insec's heads
 
lil' fellers fly then die then they's fallin quicker'n lead
 
all dead in n'i'nstant squished 'n smushed then they's fallin right on down
 
sumtimes i wonder at betimes if they's e'en get time to fr'wn
 
sumtimes i get to wondrin', an' when i think real hard 'n deep,
 
i sit 'n i ponder'n the sun 'n then sumtimes i sleep
 
but e'er so often, when i wonder hard and long, and think
 
i ask if does they finnish dyin' fore or a'fer they go "PLEENK"
 
fallen alls the long'way down you hear the clockface "DINK."
 
cuz sumtimes when i see's em tumbling i can almost hear em yell
 
a'course it's likely just plain nuthin... but if they dies a'fer they fell...
 
well i think and thought it out... i think that would be hell.
 
 

 
c038f6a4-36e2-42e6-88a0-f5fad5eba82a1.03.01
 
 
Yours truly, deciding once again to put her fingers to the keys and tap out something approximating a status update/rant/rave/acknowledgement of self and others, has just realized that at this point in time, she is happier than she's been in a long, long time. Taking a breath of fresh air, after expelling the stale, putrid filth that was held in for so long. Like coming out of suffocation, extended and drawn out for the last two months. Everything probably won't be ok.... but everything will be better than it was. Anything is. And now, I have the capacity to handle it, without feeling guilty.
 
 
please don't judge the rest of this blog too seriously on a literary level. It was created during a period of no medication and no sleep. With that said, I mean it. It's an analogy that defines cutting out cancer in your life when it threatens to hurt others you care about. When your friend proves he isn't and never was, and furthermore becomes a true, complete enemy/thorn in the side... it's time to get rid of it.
 
 
This is me ranting and raving about how i feel about the entirety of josh, brittany, and what i did during this time. I watched them for months, and waited, and still thought to myself that he was not entirely bad. i still tried to be friends. i still sacrified things. i still melted in situations when he begged me to buy him something. i still let his influence and persuasive affluence allow me to make the stupidest decision of my life. I still continued to befriend him, unwilling to give up on anyone until and unless they turn, completely, and start poisoning me for my kind efforts. I am completely, entirely done with everything he meant to me. It was fun being friends. When it stopped being friends, became best friends, it was great. When it became me wanting him more than our friendship, it began to slide. When he realized I'd do anything to make him smile, he started using it to his advantage. When he realized i had a soft spot for him bigger than the state of ohio, he proceeded to use me, and continued to do so, until it became absolutely impossible to squeeze anything further from what our "friendship" had degraded into. Then, he proceeded to explain how much he hated me. after i spent hours trying to patch things up and get his girlfriend to forgive him for the shit he did. i went out of my way to try to show him, not only am i ok with just being friends, his happiness and wellbeing still matters to me, regardless of any old feelings at the bottom of the water under the bridge. he was confronted with the lies we realized he'd told us. he became violent, destructive, manic, and uncontrollable when we stood and explained we knew, and we forgave him, and we still cared. instead of saying, really? you forgive me?
 
 
he raged. he burnt his last bridge with me. and he hurt me worse than i can truly remember someone i considered a friend being able to do. relationship problems with some men in the past have hurt worse....
 
 
but not by much. and not in the same vein. this was a direct stab at anything i'd ever done with him, for him, about him, to him, and around him. this was him explaining i meant nothing to him and i never did. this was him saying i disgusted him and that he only stuck with me because he was able to benefit from it whenever he was having rough times elsewhere.
 
 
this is me realizing i shouldn't have let him do that. and this is me waxing poetically philosophical and my sleep-deprived mind finding analogies which strike me as fitting. this is what it felt like.
 
 
this is what i dreamt about after.
 
   
 
this is my last rant, now, or ever, regarding my old best friend josh.
 
 
read if you like. it's here more for my benefit.
 
 
please don't spread this around, because it's very, very rough, and very, very mean, and very, very honest.
 
 
thanks.
 
-sincerely
 
your sleep-deprived monkey randomly bashing a keyboard.
 
 
It's like realizing the entire time you worried and stressed over whether the person who left the ice cream out on the counter to melt all night was you, when you look inside and realize it was empty and there was never an issue. Or realizing that the agony you put yourself through while beating yourself up inside over something that you're constantly second-guessing, that agony... over something that you wonder you could have made better choices about... it's realizing that the agony, while still real, is only there because you care enough to worry about it. It's the bittersweet delicious pain of finally turning away from the giant porcelain telephone to god, knowing that you. truly. feel. so. much. better. After you finish purging your mind, your mentality, and your life of the pollutants that were clogging your sanity... after you filter it out, and in some cases break off some pieces because they're never going to work... after you do that, when you realize, standing up straight, breathing in clean air, and realizing your horrible headache is now gone...after you finish pruning, then you begin to enjoy what's left. Not everything you threw away was terrible in and of itself. But it was infected, it was dangerous, and it wasn't something that was good for you. No one tells a child to hold the leash of a nearly-rabid dog, and says, it's ok, he probably won't turn for another five minutes, just hold him, i'll be back in three or so. No one does this. Yet, my tendancies, my behaviors, my naivety towards those I care about has led me to do just that. I stayed, I held on, I tried to help, I tried to bring comfort, and instead, I was bitten by something that could no longer control themselves. They meant to do it, they meant to hurt, and they did. They caused a sinking realization that not only was this dog rotten, dying, and completely past saving, they made me realize that they also infected parts of me. I'm now realizing that as much as it's important to fight and protect and take care of those who matter to you, there will come times in your life, where, they'll turn. They'll hurt you, and you'll realize they probably never cared they way you thought they did. You'll realize some people cannot emotionally control anything inside themselves, so instead they wrestle for control over others. You'll realize that all the things you wrote off and whispered away and justified to yourself, regarding their seeming apathy towards your life... well it wasn't seeming apathy. It was apathy.
 
 
I just finished a very lengthy, complicated and successful procedure involving amputating two infectious parts of my life. One of them was never the instigator of the infection, but when you're that close and that exposed to it for the last nine months, you will catch the disease, and you will carry it, whether or not it begins to destroy you. So, rephrasing. An infectious portion, and an infectious carrier portion, were just now removed and dissected from my life, my mentality, my world, and my heart. As much as it hurts to throw away something that you've carried around for years, at the same time, as the ashes scatter over the water, you look and see that at least some parts of it were worth it. Being a friend to someone is always worth it. Even if you don't get it back in return, you know you tried, and you know you gave, and you know you cared, and you know it was the right thing to do. Even if you go too far while restraining this rabid dog, even if you jump in front of it about to attack a beautiful, sweet, innocent and pure toddler who wonders what the fuzzy thing is, even if you are all alone in the middle of the desert with a dangerous, infected, diseased, angry hulk of what used to be your best friend... You know, in your heart, that you were right to trust them, even though it was stupid. You were right to try to hope there was a better side. You were right in believing their empty apologies and giving them a second chance. You were right to give them every option you could to remain a caring friend.
 
 
But, when that diseased, simmering, infection of a best friend turns to you, howls at the sky because the sunlight burns his rabid eyes, and you try to hold him and say, it'll be ok... when you're trying so hard to show that you're still there, you still care, and you will try to always be there... then the last threads of his sanity dissolve, leaving nothing but a pile of stinking, putrid, infectious rage wearing a mansuit that looks like your best friend used to before he killed your last hope in him. When he turns for the last time on you, he breaks every tie you ever held dear. Still, you want to try to befriend him, but when he snaps at your throat and moves on nothing more than angry, ravenous, thirst for blood...
 
 
That's when you have to put them down. That's when you have to say, I tried, so, so, so hard. And I don't regret trying. I regret the mistakes I made between us that hurt the rest of the world. But I don't ever regret giving you another chance. Even now, I still don't. I couldn't have lived with myself otherwise. I deliberately, cleanly, neatly, and precisely ended every chance you ever had from this moment on at infecting me further, at drawing my blood, at making me cry, or at making me care any longer. You ended this. You had a choice. You didn't have to be sniffing up a skunk hole, then a rabbit hole, then a bat nest, then a rattlesnake nest, then the mongrel cat who's foaming at the mouth.... but you chose to. After you did this, you realized it was wrong. You realized you hurt yourself while sniffing at new and interesting lairs. You knew this, but still you couldn't stop. So you found something you believed was good enough, pure enough, and beautiful enough to make all your pain and fever stop. You found something that would love you as I did, and care as I did, but someone who was naive enough to believe you in ways you couldn't get past me. You loved that something with as much of your heart as you had left. But you were already infected. You couldn't live with the infection you had. No one does, save if you went for the radical, risky, repetitive, lengthy and painful injection treatments [which consisted of coming to terms with yourself. realizing how badly you treated those around you. acknowledging your mistakes which hurt not just others, but yourself. feeling sorrow for these actions, and acting off of that sorrow, newfound misgivings genuinely dictate your heartfelt apologies, which then are promptly answered with forgiveness, which then absolves you of outside guilt, and lets you start to deal with forgiving yourself. it's a course of treatment known as coming clean with yourself, and involves too much work, effort, humility, honesty, and willingness to show true sorrow to another for you to ever have even considered going through with such a radical, bizarre, newfangled treatment plan.] No, instead you decided to continue on with your ever growing weight of pain, necrotic tissue, debilitating mental functions, hyperactive moodswings, and a ever-growing lack of rational judgement making and decision oriented abilities. You soldiered on, because you're that stubborn, and because you're that bullheaded. You soldiered on until you start hurting that same special beautiful something you thought would save you from yourself. You realized you were only going to drag her down with you... and you considered it, truly considered it, and you told her to leave you before you turned. she wouldn't do it, knowing her, knowing you. she stayed with you as you snapped at her and started giving her doses of your poisonous rage. she tolerated it out of care for you, much like i did ever so recently. she did it and continued to until you showed her what you truly thought and tried to tell her how much you hid from her to begin with. she couldn't handle that all at once, and left you alone in the burning sun as your brain started to hurt and your eyes swelled from tears and your very muscles ached with the sickness inside of you. i found her crying, alone, and miserable because you told her to leave you alone. i found her, and dried her tears, and said, let's talk for a few minutes. i asked her what was wrong, and what she'd done to make you so upset. she replied you were the one who hurt her, which isn't what you led me to believe. she replied that you lied to her about what you'd done, where you were, and what mattered more to you when it came to friends, girls, and love. i told her you didn't mean it, that you were being dumb, that you let the heat get to you and said things you weren't aware of. she cried for an hour longer before she started to realize that every time i saw you, all you saw was her. every time we spoke, all you said was her. every time you woke, all you craved was her. as she came to understand how much you cared despite your crimes, she realized she still cared to. i brought her to you. she was trembling, uncertain, wanting so desperately to see your face and hear your voice and ask you to your face whether you still loved her more than any other.
 
 
i waited, anxiously, ignoring what i heard you say because eavesdropping on such matters wouldn't be something i'd enjoy. and a week later, i realized, nothing good will come of you again.
 
 
you're infectious, rabid, hate-filled, disgusted, and completely, totally, beyond my power to save. all i can do i remove the parts of me which still hold ties to you. it hurts, and i cringe knowing that our two years of fun was great. but you just proved in many ways that all you now choose to hold is hate. I cannot be around you, nor can i hear your words. I cannot ever start to lean and wonder if you've turned. I refuse to ever again try to hear you out. I completely reject your voice, your face, your smell, your clout.
 
 
You have no longer any way to hurt me any more. I'm over this, I'm over you, and I'm so so glad this shit is done. Yes, we laughed, we played, we cried, for a while we had fun. But josh, i'm done with you and yours. I quit, I'm out, I'm done.
 
 
This poem is for you. It's a truly ridiculous analogy, but I think it describes the situation from my perspective. This is how it felt. This is what I experienced, and this is truly how I see you now.
 
 
You are dead. You died and someone else took your place. I mourn you. I hate the newcomer. He pretends to be you, but he has none of your grace. He's boring, clingy, tame, and scared, of everything he sees. He has no spunk, he has no drive, he sits and shakes knocks his knees. I hate this thing that happened here, where you destroyed yourself. You didn't have to, but you did, and you can blame yourself.
 
 
 
 
 
 
i watched from shadows round the bend, as your shadows merged. as her shadow moved  she stared and asked you for the truth. you faltered, stopped, and hitched a breath, as you came unglued. you settled on your tried and true, continuing to lie to her, you once again began to claim naught but your virtues.
 
 
she knew this couldn't be the truth and asked you one more time. you stuck your chin out, glared at her, and told her you weren't lying.
 
 
she knew this too was not the truth, she started moving in. she tried to grab your arms and pin you til you told your sins.
 
 
you threw her off and started screaming, afraid what she'd find. you couldn't stand the thought of her to catch you in your lies.
 
 
your fevered brain and twisted mind declared she couldn't know; when in fact and all along that's why she chose to go.
 
 
she knew the truth, before you spoke, and you could not come clean
 
 
this hurt her more than anything, and she began to scream.
 
 
as you saw her whole face melt, you stared as she explained.
 
 
she told you that she knew it all, and came here anyway.
 
 
she told you that she didn't care, she loved you just the same.
 
 
you couldn't stand the thought of her accepting all your shame.
 
 
your fevered brain could not stand the stress of what she claimed.
 
 
you decided to shove her, and then you went insane.
 
 
afterwards, amid the dust, you screamed until you cried.
 
 
she wouldn't let me take her home, she's yours now, till she dies.
 
 
you gave her some of what you had, a taste like bitter grounds
 
 
you didn't mean to but you failed to recognize your bounds.
 
 
now you're dying, slow but sure, ensconced in naught but rage
 
 
and she watched, crying daily, thinking she's to blame
 
 
that's when she turned back to me and tried to bring me in
 
 
she said, you two were best best friends, and will be again
 
 
you grudgingly stared at me and knew i was to blame
 
 
for bringing her back to you and showing her your name
 
 
you tolerated my vague self, as i hoped inside
 
 
that maybe you had found a way to let yourself survive


  The following plug-in is unresponsive: Shockwave Flash
  Would you like to stop it?


instead of care, you gave me death, and cursed my waking name
Considering that more and more browsers are moving to a model of running plugins out-of-process, it would not be surprising if other browsers begin having similar messages.


   
While this is a useful feature, there are certain special circumstances under which a plugin must deliberately hang. The most common case (in fact, the only case I know of) is when the plugin supports the concept of debugging.  For example, Adobe's Flash Player can attach to a debugger, and so can Google's GWT.


you hated me for pointing out the reasons for my shame
When the plugin is at a breakpoint, it typically needs to completely block.  In that kind of scenario, it is undesirable to have the above warning message appear.


This proposal offers a small extension to the plugin API that allows a plugin to tell the parent browser to temporarily stop detecting when the plugin is hung.
 
i tried to help you, tried to care, and tried to clear your name
 
 
you snapped at me, you lunged at me...
 
 
and then you broke again.
 
 
you tried to stop any thought of anything but hate
 
 
you stared at me and glared at me and knew i was to blame
 
 
you decided in your mind i was the reason for your shame
 
 
you found a way to justify two years gone down the drain
 
 
you found a way to throw away
 
 
me: who knew and stayed.
 
 
you broke your leash, your mental holds,
 
 
and threw your past away
 
 
your many blocks and walls and chains
 
 
had taken fatal strains
 
 
your vehement words and strident claims
 
 
towards everything you were
 
 
if they were true, i have no clue
 
 
as i stand here over you
 
 
your sickness and your fevers turned
 
 
your rabid, vicious hatred loose.
 
 
i tried so hard to love you still
 
 
but inwardly i saw your doom
 
 
you could only try to kill
 
 
and hurt that which stood next to you
 
 
so you were then reduced to ash
 
 
after you were given gas
 
 
i stood and watched as you died
 
 
as the hate oozed from your eyes
 
 
your last whispers cursed my life
 
 
and still i watched and waited by
 
 
and held your hand,
 
 
and still i cried.
 
[directed at rommi: There’s no way she can make him understand. There’s no way she can put it into words. There’s no way she can describe what it felt like to truly give up all hope. There’s no way she can explain what it felt like to sit caged inside a padded room for days. There’s no way she can accurately recount what occurred inside her head. There’s just no way. But she had to try. So enjoy.]
 
 
 
 
[the following is based on events which occured a couple of years ago.]
 
 
 
 
 
She sat with her back to the door, and stared at the wall. She was cold, she was hungry, and she was so, so tired. She closed her eyes against the world and thought back to being fourteen.
 
Sunshine poured upon her uplifted face. The smell of fresh rain on grass wouldn’t go away. Summer camp noises came from the lake. A smile flirted with her face as she heard gleeful laughter and playful screams. She sat up and opened her eyes
 
To find herself back inside the room with padded walls. She screamed in outrage and frustration. Fists pounded on the six inch square, three inch thick reinforced glass panel. Cracks already present grew larger. The faces on the outside just laughed louder as they cranked the volume on their damned country music. She begged them to let her use a bathroom. She pleaded with them for a breath of fresh air, pacing restlessly the entire six foot width of her cell. The shit they called music grew louder. She stared out of her tiny window and yelled with all her might for them to please, please let her use a bathroom; please please let her have her clothes back. The faces outside lost interest and drifted away, while she cried louder and louder for them to please don’t leave her alone again. She screamed until her voice stopped working. After a while, she started to cry.
 
Minutes? Hours? An eternity later, she slumped against the wall, having cried until she could cry no more. There was no one there; maybe there never was to begin with. She didn’t know. She couldn’t remember the last time she had slept, or the last time she ate. She stared at the walls and ceiling and fluorescent light panel with dazed, hurting eyes. The walls bore marks of previous occupants, a litany of words and symbols permanently gouged into the peeling paint of the padded walls, And as she gazed the light began to shimmer. She stared, entirely caught up in the gentle almost-blinking glow of the light, completely fascinated by every single dried dead bug. Her attention was grabbed by a flicker on the wall. She watched as the shadows on the wall started to move and take shape before her tired eyes. Faces formed and faded as she began to hear whispering all around her. She tried to find the source but failed entirely; it was as if the walls were speaking in quiet respectful overlapping voices that weren’t pitched quite high enough to be understood. She leaned closer to the wall, trying to hear. She closed her eyes and listened. After a while, she started to distinguish words and phrases. It sounded just like conversation you’d hear at a funeral, but from across the hall as you’re coming out of the bathroom.


= Current Proposal =
= Current Proposal =
Line 632: Line 23:
* Author: Mike Morearty (Adobe)
* Author: Mike Morearty (Adobe)
* Contributors:
* Contributors:
thelauralee


Laura Lee McCree
== New value for <code>NPN_SetValue()</code> ==
a broken link which plugged itself into the mozilla wiki system.


Sheer isolation of said plugin [stereotyped to be a typical hangar] caused reverse isolationism effects to affect said plugin user.
I am proposing a new value that can be passed to <code>NPN_SetValue()</code>:


User error. Recount.
    NPPVpluginPushDisableHangMonitorBool


=== Example ===
This value would be recognized by <code>NPN_SetValue()</code>, but not by <code>NPN_GetValue()</code>.


everywhere you look.
The browser would expect a value of <code>true</code> or <code>false</code> to be associated with this value:


== Browser-specific behavior ==
* When the plugin passes <code>true</code>, it is telling the browser, "Push the state of your plugin hang monitor, and then disable the plugin hang monitor."
* When the plugin passes <code>false</code>, it is telling the browser, "Pop the previous state of the plugin hang monitor."


define terms. check spelling. try harder. do better.
=== Example ===


MAKE
Here is an example of how a plugin would typically use <code>NPPVpluginPushDisableHangMonitorBool</code>.  Let's say the plugin has connected over a socket to a plugin-specific debugger, and has hit a breakpoint.  It is blocked, waiting for the user to issue some sort of "resume" command.  The plugin's code might look like this:


BETTER
  NPN_SetValue(instance, NPPVpluginPushDisableHangMonitorBool, (void*)true);
  processSocketMessages();
  NPN_SetValue(instance, NPPVpluginPushDisableHangMonitorBool, (void*)false);


CHOICES
== Backward compatibility ==


The behavior of <code>NPN_SetValue()</code> is that if it does not recognize the variable that was passed in, it returns an error code such as <code>NPERR_INVALID_PARAM</code>, but it does not otherwise interfere with the operation of the plugin.  So, a plugin would be free to pass this value to an older browser, and be confident that if the older browser did not recognize this parameter, the result would be essentially a no-op.


== Browser-specific behavior ==


Not all browsers have any sort of plugin hang monitor, and of those that do, there may be variations in their behavior.  There are a few ways in which the behavior of <code>NPPVpluginPushDisableHangMonitorBool</code> may vary slightly from one browser to the next:


and love freely or not at all.
* As described above, if an older browser does not recognize this variable, it would return an error code.
 
* A newer browser might recognize this variable, but might not have a hang monitor.  In that case, the browser would ideally return <code>NPERR_NO_ERROR</code>.  However, it is common practice for plugins to return error codes for any variable that they don't explicitly handle.  Therefore, plugin authors would be wise to code defensively, and not assume a particular return value.
 
* When a plugin passes <code>true</code>, it is really only requesting that the plugin monitor be disabled for ''that one instance'' of ''that one plugin.''  However, due to implementation issues, it may be difficult for some browsers to have such fine-grained control over their plugin hang monitor, so a browser is free to respond more broadly, such as by disabling its plugin monitor for all instances of that plugin, or disabling its plugin monitor for all plugins in that web page, or disabling its plugin monitor entirely.
 
* When the plugin passes <code>false</code>, browsers may differ in how they restore their plugin hang monitor.  For example, suppose a browser's hang monitor normally waits 30 seconds before displaying its warning. Some browsers may implement <code>NPPVpluginPushDisableHangMonitorBool</code> by pausing their timer -- for example, if the plugin has already been hung for ten seconds, and then the plugin calls push and then pop, the browser might leave 20 seconds on its timer.  Other browsers may reset their timer -- in the above example, they may put the timer back at 30 seconds remaining before a hang is detected.
your half-hearted sentimentalistic bullshit is worth almost as much as pop psychology in this new day and age.
 
Get big or go home.
 
GROW A PAIR already.
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