Pastery

test +

David Blue's Handy Test Document™

Updated 12082024-000303


This is actually a somewhat functional page. If you've arrived here, it'd better be for [**development purposes**](https://gist.github.com/extratone/f643a3bbfb3e03189d1af3fc0d6f847d) *only* or i will tell Chuck Snowden abt u.

Rounded Corners Example

h1 Heading 8-)

h2 Heading

h3 Heading

h4 Heading

h5 Heading
h6 Heading

Body Text

In the right hour, the woodland springtime metamorphic processes of the neighboring Lake Geneva suburb’s in-betweens were in a paused state – the toads again hushed; the crickets tired, and the human populace, too. In the right hour, the fickle wind and the social owls were the only sound, and nothing moved but the sparse, light-footed doe in careful segments with her fawn. From the main gated lane of The Nice, Huge Estate, Lenny Lather slid through the muddy barrier and started bouncing West on the blacktop, brogues squeaking every third step. The overcasted clouds were having trouble deciding whether or not to let down their rain – as they had been all day – and the old, heavy early-March mist softened the yellow glow of the tall, buzzing streetlamps so much that he couldn’t help but intermittently wipe his eyes, for the spreading light convinced his mind that his eyelashes must’ve been wetted.

Theodore Pith’s big old house was now burrowed between two mismatched neighborhoods – the bleaker Easterly, which was too new for its alien trees to have recovered from the brutality of its development’s clear-cutting and contained within one of its central featureless backyards an unidentifiable creature which made all through the night the most unimaginably ghastly, disturbingly human child-like shrieking; the opposing Westerly’s trees further enough along in their regrowth – ten or twenty years perhaps – to appear more of the planet Earth to Manhattan-bred Lenny Lather, who still found the colorless destruction of suburbia unendingly upsetting, especially when coming down. In the interest of his regular withdrawal’s mitigation, he had already established two short, repeatable tracks and a longer, several mile-long loop which skirted him sufficiently around the East’s center to avoid hearing the shrieks in all but the stillest nights. Never in his years – on these walks he was especially reminded of just how many there were – had he been able to feel such absolute ownership of his surroundings. The eroding Earth slipping away from the hem of the warped, stained wood fences; the sidewalks, cracked, bent, sloped helter-skelter, often muddied in the troughs and joints – generally laying haphazardly in layers after having been steadily tossed about by the glacial forces of their intermixture with clay, precipitation, and the tumultuous temperature-dependent torture of the two – these were his, entirely, in the right hour. Between two and five in the morning when the earliest risers would blearily revive their dewy automobiles from long, silent hibernation, the whole world – everything in his sight and more at any moment – it was all his, without a single worthy challenger.

In the right hour, the roads were completely and totally abandoned – for the New Yorker, an unfathomable absolute – and all humanity was at rest. In the right hour, Lenny Lather was the appointed guardian of the worn domesticity of a small nation, though the lonely occupation was astoundingly lax, for in the miles and miles of empty streets he had already traversed in his nightly holidays from the World of Pith, he had yet to encounter a single unexpected factor or minutely threatening presence. Since shortly after his December arrival, he’d walked through even the most frigid mornings. Of course, the stillness had then been even more otherworldly, and Lenny was curious to see how his new most private domain would change with the seasons. Though the auxiliary guest room which he now called home was no smaller or less hospitable than the master bedroom of his late Hudson Yards flat shared with his late Wife, it proved to be a poor respite from Theodore Pith, who treated him – when they were “home” at Nice, Huge – as the puppy he never had, and expected his participation to remain entirely vulnerable to his any whim. Granted – in their shared abuse of amphetamines, cocaine, and assorted other stimulants – Lenny Lather was vastly more prepared for the games than any circadian guest could’ve possibly been. At first, the ten-foot door of his dawn-facing room had closed without latching, but with the warmth and moisture brought with the Midwestern Spring, the most secure state in which the engorged wood could be forcibly arranged still left a half-inch crack, and Lather’s last chance of privacy was lost.

The latest favorite pastime of Nice, Big’s Master necessitated a willing, capable driver, and – as keeping a single Butler (much less an entire household staff) was proving extremely difficult for him – Lenny Lather was the sole pick of the draft. In the earliest hours of one Tuesday morning in February, he’d been pleasantly dosing and drooling on his laptop after an evening of obsessive, incoherent notetaking when the huge door had been kicked ajar by a deep black, blindingly shiny oxford with excessively violent force. Attached to the shoe in an equally blinding penguin tuxedo, towering bowler hat, and cartoonish fake mustache was the Great, Blown Pith.

“Hope you’re not busy,” he’d said quite loudly to the lolling Lather, leaning and tilting his head into the lamp light, which had dislodged his monocle and briefly occupied him with untangling its chain.

“You’re not busy, are ya?!” he’d shouted, tapping the shiny brass lion’s head of his shiny black cane against the vanity… then swatting it with a flicking wrist… then clubbing it with a full, two-handed homerun swing – taking huge, vaguely cat nose-shaped gouges from the surface of the wood. The splintery wood chips had rained down upon the hunched Lenny; he’d stirred with one found its way in his open mouth – he’d chewed it slowly and swallowed it, but he still had not awoken. Nevertheless, Theodore Pith’s coked-up enthusiasm couldn’t possibly have yielded to common decencies like his guest’s nighttime peace.

“SHOOT, LENNY,” he’d screamed in his companion’s ear, having traversed the room to his bedside.

“I SURE HOPE YOU’RE NOT BUSY RIGHT NOW!”

Finally, he’d resorted to tickling Lenny’s nose with the ornament, which had reeked with the urinal smell of metal polish – the sudden, overwhelming delivery of which to the writer’s olfactory nerves finally causing ample alarm in his nervous system to justify bringing him abruptly back to his life and deluded host.

“I need a favor. The Duesie’s warming up. We’re going for a ride.”

Unable to form a linguistic response, Lenny Lather had obeyed Theo’s frenzied, repeating instructions and stumbled into the matching suit he’d brought over his arm – wondering with marginal, arrested clarity at how well-tailored it was for him. He had not the soundness of perception to protest when Pith had whipped a deep black, blindingly shiny bowtie around his already-congested esophagus, nor when he’d adheased the huge, itchy matching fake moustache to his upper lip and nearly pulled the matching Tower of Bowler all the way down over his ears. He had been unresponsive when he’d been sat on the bench under the agonizing fluorescent lights of the laundry room, affixed with deep black, blindingly shiny matching oxfords, and asked if he smoked and how well he could say guffaw.

“Just wait… you have no idea… you have no idea how much fun this is going to be.”

Lenny Lather had not… could not have made a sound through the confusing nonsense of his waking pre-Great Depression dream, but when the old servant’s door had been opened before him and set the heartless, single-digit Winter wind upon his very soul, he had all at once arrived in the world, laughing and whooping together with Theodore Pith.

“Jesus Christ!” he’d screamed as they’d hobbled to the stable, where a devilishly dark red Model J Duesenberg had sat shivering in a rough idle, staring out the retrofitted garage door with its basketball-sized lights as if it was, indeed, a flesh-and-blood steed that had just been frightened awake by a thunderstorm, but the sky had been as clear as it would’ve been from an asteroid – as it is only on the coldest nights – and almost comically dominated by the setting, gluttonously luminescent moon. Theodore had then grabbed a screwdriver from the workbench and bent down to remove the license plate – which had said BLOOD in big black bold block letters – and its containing frame. By the time he had settled into the frigid red leather of the exposed, roofless driver’s seat, Lenny Lather was full-to-bursting with adrenaline and laughing out huge streams of breathy steam. From behind him in the cabin, Pith had been guffawing plumes, too, as he’d briefly ignited his cocaine-sprinkled mustache instead of the bratwurst-sized cigar between his teeth. The smell of burning human hair had accented his explanation of the old car’s transmission and its direct path from source-to-nose for Pith had required a brief, unplanned intermission as it induced without warning his violent heaving – still part-guffawing – hanging half out of his beautifully-upholstered suicide door.

As he had spewed – expertly sparing the swoop of the gleaming waxy fender – Lenny had found a pair of deep black, blindingly shiny gloves and – after less grinding than you would imagine, to his credit – first gear, setting the whole dastardly circus in motion.

“Where to, Sire?” Lenny had asked, nose lifted to an untenable altitude in a pitiful approximation of an accent that’d never actually been used before by any person or persons in all of history, struggling for breath.

“Left at the gates, Barnsward, old chap,” Theodore had replied in a contrasting fashion after again sitting upright from his heaves and taking a breath, ironing out – if anything – the flatness of his perforating Ohio Ds and Ps, resulting in such a culturally destructive racket that it had set both of them in uncontrollable, cloudy fits lasting long after Lather had swerved the great length of the car from the gravel to his abandoned asphalt retreat. The two had continued their banter down that soul-suckingly flat vector, one-upping each other’s etymologic barbarity against the savage thievery of the heatless wind.

“Now to star-board, Budleigh, my good fellow!”

“Right-o, as you say, sir!”

“Down to the pu-hb for a spaht of brahn-dee with me mae-its!”

Oncemo-ar right, pip pip!”

“By jah-lee, there we are!”

After the entirety of Northern European history had been decimated and subsequently forgotten, the Duesenberg named BLOOD had turned its orange, googley-eyed stare and narrow whitewalled hooves up the reflective, freshly-painted access of the new 24-hour grocery in the no-man’s-land between the cookie-cutter stares of the neatly-rowed Easterly neighborhood and the droning respiration of Interstate 43, two miles distant. It was 2:12 in the morning and most of the greasy-haired night stocking shift had been halfway through their third smoke break, circled around a store-used picnic table 50 yards from the far sliding airlock doors. The first to spot BLOOD had been the second shortest of the lot, whose weary scrutiny along the truest radian to the West from under his sweaty beanie in her entrance she had crossed, and the depth of her red as he first spied it had caused him vertigo – as if he would fall in – and cast upon the shorter-than-average length of his being an all-consuming existential doubt. The tallest and loudest of them had faced squarest the white faux-brick wall of the box building and was at that moment engaged upon a spirited rant about where and where’nt and when a vapist ought to buy his Suck juice between long, gasping Sucks from his super-shiny Suck box. Of course, the arrival of a customer even at such a late hour did not warrant notice at a huge, broadly-servicing operation like theirs, but as BLOOD had crept through all four reflective yellow-checkered pedestrian crossings, closing without a flinch, and the details of her occupying caricatures had become more and more numerous, she had stolen the attention of the huddle, one-by-one, and elicited from each the rarest under-breath profanity of true, unmolested wonder.

Jesus Christ,” had said the shortest.

Holy fuck,” had said the youngest.

Gee whiz,” had said the oldest.

Horizontal Rules




Typographic replacements

Enable typographer option to see result.

(c) (C) (r) (R) (tm) (TM) (p) (P) +-

test.. test... test..... test?..... test!....

!!!!!! ???? ,, -- ---

"Smartypants, double quotes" and 'single quotes'

Emphasis

This is bold text

This is bold text

This is italic text

This is italic text

This is underlined text

~~Strikethrough~~

Blockquotes

Blockquotes can also be nested...

...by using additional greater-than signs right next to each other...

...or with spaces between arrows.

Lists

Unordered

Ordered

  1. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet
  2. Consectetur adipiscing elit
  3. Integer molestie lorem at massa

  4. You can use sequential numbers...

  5. ...or keep all the numbers as 1.

Start numbering with offset:

  1. foo
  2. bar

Code

Inline code

Indented code

// Some comments
line 1 of code
line 2 of code
line 3 of code

Block code "fences"

code {
    /* background-color:#f7ff85 !important; */
    /* border: 1px solid #da2573 !important;
    border-radius: 1px !important; */
    font-size: 0.85em !important;
    color: #1c0021 !important;
    font-family: proxima-nova-condensed, sans-serif;
    font-weight: 400;
    /* padding: 0px 0px 0px 0px !important; */
}

body #post pre, body#collection pre, body#post pre, body#subpage pre {
    background: #FFFdeb; !important;
    border: 1px solid #da2573 !important;
    border-radius: 1px !important;
    font-size: 0.85em !important;
    color: #1c0021 !important;
    font-family: proxima-nova-condensed, sans-serif;
    font-weight: 400;
    /* padding: 0px 0px 0px 0px !important; */
}

Syntax highlighting

code {
    /* background-color:#f7ff85 !important; */
    /* border: 1px solid #da2573 !important;
    border-radius: 1px !important; */
    font-size: 0.85em !important;
    color: #1c0021 !important;
    font-family: proxima-nova-condensed, sans-serif;
    font-weight: 400;
    /* padding: 0px 0px 0px 0px !important; */
}

body #post pre, body#collection pre, body#post pre, body#subpage pre {
    background: #FFFdeb; !important;
    border: 1px solid #da2573 !important;
    border-radius: 1px !important;
    font-size: 0.85em !important;
    color: #1c0021 !important;
    font-family: proxima-nova-condensed, sans-serif;
    font-weight: 400;
    /* padding: 0px 0px 0px 0px !important; */
}
var foo = function (bar) {
  return bar++;
};

console.log(foo(5));

Tables

Variable Code Result
Artist Link (with name) [a=De La Soul] De La Soul
Artist Link (with id) [a4091] De La Soul
Bold [b]bold[/b] bold
Guidelines Link [g1.2.3] RSG §1.2.3
Images [img=...] Will display linked image. Only available in Seller Terms and on User Profile page.
Italics [i]italics[/i] italics
Label Link [l=Warp Records] Warp Records
Label Link (with id) [l23528] Warp Records
Master Release Link [m123] Mixrace & Pro-Ton-Isospace - The Endless Skies / True Jungle
Master Release Link (title only) [m=123] The Endless Skies / True Jungle
Quote [quote=username]quoted text[/quote] username - quoted text
Release Link [r15703] Maurizio - Domina
Release Link (title only) [r=15703] Domina
Strikethrough [s]strikethrough[/s] strikethrough
Topic Link [t=262] Forum Topic #262
Underline [u]underline[/u] underline
URL [url=http://www.discogs.com]Discogs[/url] Discogs
User Link [u=teo] teo

Links

link text

link with title

Autoconverted link https://github.com/nodeca/pica (enable linkify to see)

Images

Extratone Radio

Like links, Images also have a footnote style syntax

Alt text

With a reference later in the document defining the URL location:

Plugins

The killer feature of markdown-it is very effective support of syntax plugins.

Emojies

Classic markup: :wink: :crush: :cry: :tear: :laughing: :yum:

Shortcuts (emoticons): :-) :-( 8-) ;)

see how to change output with twemoji.

Subscript / Superscript

\

++Inserted text++

\<mark>

==Marked text==

Footnotes

Over the past few months, I've started several Posts for this blog regarding Twitter, its properties, and its recent feature addition frenzy which I'll probably never finish. I finished the first and narrowest one: my Tweetbot 6 "review," but the (debatably) most important one - highlighting how irresponsibly and distastefully Twitter butchered Periscope and built Spaces atop its technology - would make less and less sense as time goes on. I definitely got caught up in the "death" of the live video streaming service, fueled by my now quite old desire to celebrate it1,

This is some text.1 This is some more text in a different sentence.

This is some text anticipating a footnote[^2] in the middle of the fucking sentence.

/ Footnote 1 link2. /

Footnote 2 link3.

Inline footnote^[Text of inline footnote] definition.

Duplicated footnote reference3.

Definition lists

Term 1

Definition 1 with lazy continuation.

Term 2 with inline markup

Definition 2

{ some code, part of Definition 2 }

Third paragraph of definition 2.

Compact style:

Term 1 ~ Definition 1

Term 2 ~ Definition 2a ~ Definition 2b

Abbreviations

This is HTML abbreviation example.

It converts "HTML", but keep intact partial entries like "xxxHTMLyyy" and so on.

Custom containers

::: warning (ew) :::

[1] This is a reference to some text.

[2] This is some fucking text jumping out of the middle of a sentence.


Rich Media Embeds

<iframe width="560" height="315" sandbox="allow-same-origin allow-scripts" src="https://video.writeas.org/videos/embed/cf606290-11cf-4b2c-9952-16f8df26dbd8?loop=1&muted=1&warningTitle=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>

Testing Write.as' embedly-based automatic media embed service.

Refer to:

~~### Twitter~~

~~Below is the RAW URL to a Twitter Moment~~

~~https://twitter.com/i/events/1395934071197474828~~

Web Archive Embed?

Boy, will I be absolutely chuffed if this works at all:

<iframe src="https://archive.org/embed/drycast" width="500" height="140" frameborder="0" webkitallowfullscreen="true" mozallowfullscreen="true" allowfullscreen></iframe>

End

Spotify

Below is the raw URL to an open.spotify podcast episode link.

https://open.spotify.com/episode/65yv6gvutNjjCrF4oeQFlc

End

Are.na

Below is the raw URL to an individual Arena block.

https://www.are.na/block/5507359

End

Gists

Below is a Gist example posted in Raw URL form

https://gist.github.com/extratone/614effdd51bac74793ef627a1174e972

End

Instagram

<svg width="50px" height="50px" viewBox="0 0 60 60" version="1.1" xmlns="https://www.w3.org/2000/svg" xmlns:xlink="https://www.w3.org/1999/xlink"><g stroke="none" stroke-width="1" fill="none" fill-rule="evenodd"><g transform="translate(-511.000000, -20.000000)" fill="#000000"><g><path d="M556.869,30.41 C554.814,30.41 553.148,32.076 553.148,34.131 C553.148,36.186 554.814,37.852 556.869,37.852 C558.924,37.852 560.59,36.186 560.59,34.131 C560.59,32.076 558.924,30.41 556.869,30.41 M541,60.657 C535.114,60.657 530.342,55.887 530.342,50 C530.342,44.114 535.114,39.342 541,39.342 C546.887,39.342 551.658,44.114 551.658,50 C551.658,55.887 546.887,60.657 541,60.657 M541,33.886 C532.1,33.886 524.886,41.1 524.886,50 C524.886,58.899 532.1,66.113 541,66.113 C549.9,66.113 557.115,58.899 557.115,50 C557.115,41.1 549.9,33.886 541,33.886 M565.378,62.101 C565.244,65.022 564.756,66.606 564.346,67.663 C563.803,69.06 563.154,70.057 562.106,71.106 C561.058,72.155 560.06,72.803 558.662,73.347 C557.607,73.757 556.021,74.244 553.102,74.378 C549.944,74.521 548.997,74.552 541,74.552 C533.003,74.552 532.056,74.521 528.898,74.378 C525.979,74.244 524.393,73.757 523.338,73.347 C521.94,72.803 520.942,72.155 519.894,71.106 C518.846,70.057 518.197,69.06 517.654,67.663 C517.244,66.606 516.755,65.022 516.623,62.101 C516.479,58.943 516.448,57.996 516.448,50 C516.448,42.003 516.479,41.056 516.623,37.899 C516.755,34.978 517.244,33.391 517.654,32.338 C518.197,30.938 518.846,29.942 519.894,28.894 C520.942,27.846 521.94,27.196 523.338,26.654 C524.393,26.244 525.979,25.756 528.898,25.623 C532.057,25.479 533.004,25.448 541,25.448 C548.997,25.448 549.943,25.479 553.102,25.623 C556.021,25.756 557.607,26.244 558.662,26.654 C560.06,27.196 561.058,27.846 562.106,28.894 C563.154,29.942 563.803,30.938 564.346,32.338 C564.756,33.391 565.244,34.978 565.378,37.899 C565.522,41.056 565.552,42.003 565.552,50 C565.552,57.996 565.522,58.943 565.378,62.101 M570.82,37.631 C570.674,34.438 570.167,32.258 569.425,30.349 C568.659,28.377 567.633,26.702 565.965,25.035 C564.297,23.368 562.623,22.342 560.652,21.575 C558.743,20.834 556.562,20.326 553.369,20.18 C550.169,20.033 549.148,20 541,20 C532.853,20 531.831,20.033 528.631,20.18 C525.438,20.326 523.257,20.834 521.349,21.575 C519.376,22.342 517.703,23.368 516.035,25.035 C514.368,26.702 513.342,28.377 512.574,30.349 C511.834,32.258 511.326,34.438 511.181,37.631 C511.035,40.831 511,41.851 511,50 C511,58.147 511.035,59.17 511.181,62.369 C511.326,65.562 511.834,67.743 512.574,69.651 C513.342,71.625 514.368,73.296 516.035,74.965 C517.703,76.634 519.376,77.658 521.349,78.425 C523.257,79.167 525.438,79.673 528.631,79.82 C531.831,79.965 532.853,80.001 541,80.001 C549.148,80.001 550.169,79.965 553.369,79.82 C556.562,79.673 558.743,79.167 560.652,78.425 C562.623,77.658 564.297,76.634 565.965,74.965 C567.633,73.296 568.659,71.625 569.425,69.651 C570.167,67.743 570.674,65.562 570.82,62.369 C570.966,59.17 571,58.147 571,50 C571,41.851 570.966,40.831 570.82,37.631"></path></g></g></g></svg>
View this post on Instagram

A post shared by David Blue (@asphaltapostle)

<script async src="//www.instagram.com/embed.js"></script>

Below is a single-photo public Instagram post URL. Above is the heinous result when you query Instagram's own embed tool.

https://www.instagram.com/p/BLwHiPkBbXG

End

Mixcloud

Below is a raw Mixcloud URL to a medium-length stream.

https://www.mixcloud.com/davod/тнαиkfυl-fσя-bαиdcαмρ-2018-мix/

End

Last.fm

Below is a raw Last.fm URL to an individual track.

https://www.last.fm/music/Kalibration/_/A+Halting+Machine

End

And now to an artist(?)

https://www.last.fm/music/Kalibration

End

And now to a user profile.

https://www.last.fm/user/Crazyhooligin

End

Imgur

https://imgur.com/gallery/GcpLylS

End

Apple Music (Embed)

<iframe allow="autoplay *; encrypted-media *; fullscreen *" frameborder="0" height="450" style="width:100%;max-width:660px;overflow:hidden;background:transparent;" sandbox="allow-forms allow-popups allow-same-origin allow-scripts allow-storage-access-by-user-activation allow-top-navigation-by-user-activation" src="https://embed.music.apple.com/us/playlist/c-o-n-t-a-c-t/pl.u-gxbl78DCgYaAGJ"></iframe>

End


Images

Extratone Radio

The embed below is an example of a Markdown image embed that's also a Markdown link! (I learned how to do this from our community's own Dino Bansigan ... after wondering if it was possible for years.

Mood


  1. Because I feel guilty about taking it for granted. 

  2. Footnote can have markup

    and multiple paragraphs. 

  3. Footnote text. 

New paste