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#First Church of Christ Computer-Programmer
oldschoolfrp · 1 year
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A High Programmer styling himself “The Maker” imprints an artificial personality on a mutant who becomes “The Cybernetic Messiah, The Computer’s best beloved clone, sent to lead His children to that big storage peripheral in the sky,” in John M Ford’s “The Second Coming,” a 1-page Code 7 Paranoia adventure in Acute Paranoia (West End Games, 1986; Jim Holloway illustration).  The First Church of Christ Computer-Programmer, the FCCC-P, first was mentioned as a secret society in the core Paranoia rules.
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shammah8 · 2 years
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‼️‼️‼️ *The Coming Cashless Society*
The New World Order economists are not ignorant of the importance of cash and its ability to inhibit their control of the world. They are aware that in order to completely control, track, and monitor the global population, they must first eliminate the use of cash.
With cash, there is no way to know how people are using their finances - whether for or against the government. Control of one's finances, in essence, means control of one's entire life.
Advocates of world government, for decades, have been promoting a move towards cashless transactions via a myriad of banking plans, ATM machines, credit cards, Point-of-sale transactions, and credit data. All funneled through massive computer systems.
Enter CBDC (Central Bank Digital Currency).
This cashless system gives world leaders the control and the power they crave. This type of currency will be Traceable, Programmable, can have Rules and Regulations attached, can be tied in with Environmental groups
Interest in CBDCs has skyrocketed in recent years. In May 2020, just 35 countries were considering this system. However, as of July 2022, the International Monetary Fund (IMF) released a report indicating that 97 countries are now interested.
In the past, leaders used to try and hide phrases like, “cashless” and “new world order”, but they are now blatantly showing their true intentions.
Last year, a video circulated where prince Charles stated that they needed to create a “vast military style campaign to marshal the strength of the Global Private Sector, with trillions (not billions) at his disposal.” At who’s disposal?!? I think we already know the answer to this.
The Bible says that a time will come when a global dictator will require everyone on earth to receive a mark on the right hand or the forehead. Those without the mark won’t be able to buy or sell anything.
Revelation 13:16-17: He causes all, both small and great, both rich and poor, both free and slave, to receive a mark on their right hand or on their forehead, so that no one may buy or sell, except he who has the mark or the name of the beast or the number of his name.
For centuries, Christians have wondered how this might even be possible. But as we continue to watch the world today, we can see the technology for this system already taking place. Not only is a cashless society possible – it’s inevitable.
At some point in the near future, the antichrist will seize power, and when he does, a global electronic payment system will already exist. Convenience has already led to most transactions going electronic, and soon, new technologies will make ALL paper currency obsolete.
This is yet, another sign of the soon return of Jesus.
Praise God that as a Christian we won't be here during this time! We will be with the Lord in Heaven as these events take place on earth.
ARE YOU READY? Have you accepted in faith what Christ did for us on the cross? If you haven’t, please do so TODAY, the time of His return for His church is near...
*Sources: Terry Cook, Britt Gillette, International Monetary Funds*
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abelmvada · 5 years
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First Church of Christ Computer Programmer! Inspired by a glich gif from @dermoosealini
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airaglub · 2 years
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At the sack of Constantinople in 1453
Other dates offer themselves: we have already seen Gibbon’s choice, at the sack of Constantinople in 1453, but that was the whimper, not the bang. The balance of power in medieval Asia Minor had tilted strongly toward the Turks 200 years earlier, when the other Roman empire and its allies and friends, the crusaders, overthrew the Christian empire of Constantinople. Constantine’s fundamental idea, that he could maintain hegemony over the Balkans, Asia Minor, and the eastern lands beyond from a perch in the Bosporus and the Golden Horn, is exactly the idea that Mehmed the Conqueror accepted when he put Constantinople out of its misery and made it his capital. Dismantling the dilapidated city’s pathetic rump of an empire in 1453 secured Turkish domination more by securing continuity than by changing anything fundamental. (Some western powers even welcomed the new partner.) Mehmed saw himself as the successor to the Roman emperor, and thus in an important way Constantine’s fundamental vision was sustained intact not merely till 1453, but till 1924—the last gasp of the Ottoman empire and its suppression in favor of a more modest and modern republic of Turkey.
If we ask what became of the Roman-hearted (who had power that’s now departed), looking for a single date at which a switch was thrown and an empire ceased to exist never makes real sense. Instead, we’ll first have to reframe the question as one that can be answered, and answered on a human scale. Human beings live in a moving window of time that remembers a generation or two of the past reasonably well and that imagines a future best measured in decades, not centuries or millennia. The century or so from 476 to 604 CE reflects human plans and wishes with their successes and failures, showing how rulers who could not understand their world as existing on a continuum much older than themselves squandered countless opportunities stoletov bulgaria tours.
WHEN DID IT HAPPEN?
I will identify the dates of events using the western convention BCE and CE, corresponding to BC and AD. No one alive in the time of this story used that dating system regularly, and only a few were aware of it, but many would have understood it if you had described it to them. To the best of our knowledge, the scheme was devised in the 520s by Dionysius Exiguus (“Denis the Short” or perhaps merely “Denis the Humble”), who calculated that Jesus had been incarnated at the Annunciation—the moment when Mary met the angel and became pregnant, which he dated to March 25 in the year 754 of the city of Rome: that is, 1 CE or AD 1. (The first Christmas, by that reckoning, fell on December 25 of the year 1.)
Fortunately for us, Dionysius had the year wrong. Jesus was born no later than 4 BCE and perhaps as early as 8 BCE. If Dionysius had been correct, then the second millennium would have arrived between 1992 and 1996 and a generation of computer programmers would have had even less time than they did to forestall the confusion of Y2K. We hear of Dionysius’s work first in his own time in another writer’s treatise on the mechanism for fixing the date of Easter, and at least one seventh-century chronicler reckoned dates that way, but it was not until the eighth century that the Anglo-Saxon historian Bede employed it consistently and found a relatively wide readership. The scholar Alcuin took the idea to the continent, where it caught on and flourished under the influence of Charlemagne.
In the sixth century, in other words, there was no sixth century. People were generally aware of how long it had been since Christ was born (in the late fourth century some surmised that the 365th year after the crucifixion would see the second coming of Jesus), but public documents and official records, even church documents, used more ancient ways of counting. The commonest and most venerable were still consular years, and until 541 CE one or two consuls were appointed in each year and the year bore their names—“in the consulship of X and Y”—and the roster of names going back to 509 BCE was a source of pride for the families who found ancestors on it. When consuls were no longer named, counting and naming years from the beginning of the current emperor’s reign was more common.
0 notes
bulgariaadvice · 2 years
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Tumblr media
At the sack of Constantinople in 1453
Other dates offer themselves: we have already seen Gibbon’s choice, at the sack of Constantinople in 1453, but that was the whimper, not the bang. The balance of power in medieval Asia Minor had tilted strongly toward the Turks 200 years earlier, when the other Roman empire and its allies and friends, the crusaders, overthrew the Christian empire of Constantinople. Constantine’s fundamental idea, that he could maintain hegemony over the Balkans, Asia Minor, and the eastern lands beyond from a perch in the Bosporus and the Golden Horn, is exactly the idea that Mehmed the Conqueror accepted when he put Constantinople out of its misery and made it his capital. Dismantling the dilapidated city’s pathetic rump of an empire in 1453 secured Turkish domination more by securing continuity than by changing anything fundamental. (Some western powers even welcomed the new partner.) Mehmed saw himself as the successor to the Roman emperor, and thus in an important way Constantine’s fundamental vision was sustained intact not merely till 1453, but till 1924—the last gasp of the Ottoman empire and its suppression in favor of a more modest and modern republic of Turkey.
If we ask what became of the Roman-hearted (who had power that’s now departed), looking for a single date at which a switch was thrown and an empire ceased to exist never makes real sense. Instead, we’ll first have to reframe the question as one that can be answered, and answered on a human scale. Human beings live in a moving window of time that remembers a generation or two of the past reasonably well and that imagines a future best measured in decades, not centuries or millennia. The century or so from 476 to 604 CE reflects human plans and wishes with their successes and failures, showing how rulers who could not understand their world as existing on a continuum much older than themselves squandered countless opportunities stoletov bulgaria tours.
WHEN DID IT HAPPEN?
I will identify the dates of events using the western convention BCE and CE, corresponding to BC and AD. No one alive in the time of this story used that dating system regularly, and only a few were aware of it, but many would have understood it if you had described it to them. To the best of our knowledge, the scheme was devised in the 520s by Dionysius Exiguus (“Denis the Short” or perhaps merely “Denis the Humble”), who calculated that Jesus had been incarnated at the Annunciation—the moment when Mary met the angel and became pregnant, which he dated to March 25 in the year 754 of the city of Rome: that is, 1 CE or AD 1. (The first Christmas, by that reckoning, fell on December 25 of the year 1.)
Fortunately for us, Dionysius had the year wrong. Jesus was born no later than 4 BCE and perhaps as early as 8 BCE. If Dionysius had been correct, then the second millennium would have arrived between 1992 and 1996 and a generation of computer programmers would have had even less time than they did to forestall the confusion of Y2K. We hear of Dionysius’s work first in his own time in another writer’s treatise on the mechanism for fixing the date of Easter, and at least one seventh-century chronicler reckoned dates that way, but it was not until the eighth century that the Anglo-Saxon historian Bede employed it consistently and found a relatively wide readership. The scholar Alcuin took the idea to the continent, where it caught on and flourished under the influence of Charlemagne.
In the sixth century, in other words, there was no sixth century. People were generally aware of how long it had been since Christ was born (in the late fourth century some surmised that the 365th year after the crucifixion would see the second coming of Jesus), but public documents and official records, even church documents, used more ancient ways of counting. The commonest and most venerable were still consular years, and until 541 CE one or two consuls were appointed in each year and the year bore their names—“in the consulship of X and Y”—and the roster of names going back to 509 BCE was a source of pride for the families who found ancestors on it. When consuls were no longer named, counting and naming years from the beginning of the current emperor’s reign was more common.
0 notes
dealbulgaria · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media
At the sack of Constantinople in 1453
Other dates offer themselves: we have already seen Gibbon’s choice, at the sack of Constantinople in 1453, but that was the whimper, not the bang. The balance of power in medieval Asia Minor had tilted strongly toward the Turks 200 years earlier, when the other Roman empire and its allies and friends, the crusaders, overthrew the Christian empire of Constantinople. Constantine’s fundamental idea, that he could maintain hegemony over the Balkans, Asia Minor, and the eastern lands beyond from a perch in the Bosporus and the Golden Horn, is exactly the idea that Mehmed the Conqueror accepted when he put Constantinople out of its misery and made it his capital. Dismantling the dilapidated city’s pathetic rump of an empire in 1453 secured Turkish domination more by securing continuity than by changing anything fundamental. (Some western powers even welcomed the new partner.) Mehmed saw himself as the successor to the Roman emperor, and thus in an important way Constantine’s fundamental vision was sustained intact not merely till 1453, but till 1924—the last gasp of the Ottoman empire and its suppression in favor of a more modest and modern republic of Turkey.
If we ask what became of the Roman-hearted (who had power that’s now departed), looking for a single date at which a switch was thrown and an empire ceased to exist never makes real sense. Instead, we’ll first have to reframe the question as one that can be answered, and answered on a human scale. Human beings live in a moving window of time that remembers a generation or two of the past reasonably well and that imagines a future best measured in decades, not centuries or millennia. The century or so from 476 to 604 CE reflects human plans and wishes with their successes and failures, showing how rulers who could not understand their world as existing on a continuum much older than themselves squandered countless opportunities stoletov bulgaria tours.
WHEN DID IT HAPPEN?
I will identify the dates of events using the western convention BCE and CE, corresponding to BC and AD. No one alive in the time of this story used that dating system regularly, and only a few were aware of it, but many would have understood it if you had described it to them. To the best of our knowledge, the scheme was devised in the 520s by Dionysius Exiguus (“Denis the Short” or perhaps merely “Denis the Humble”), who calculated that Jesus had been incarnated at the Annunciation—the moment when Mary met the angel and became pregnant, which he dated to March 25 in the year 754 of the city of Rome: that is, 1 CE or AD 1. (The first Christmas, by that reckoning, fell on December 25 of the year 1.)
Fortunately for us, Dionysius had the year wrong. Jesus was born no later than 4 BCE and perhaps as early as 8 BCE. If Dionysius had been correct, then the second millennium would have arrived between 1992 and 1996 and a generation of computer programmers would have had even less time than they did to forestall the confusion of Y2K. We hear of Dionysius’s work first in his own time in another writer’s treatise on the mechanism for fixing the date of Easter, and at least one seventh-century chronicler reckoned dates that way, but it was not until the eighth century that the Anglo-Saxon historian Bede employed it consistently and found a relatively wide readership. The scholar Alcuin took the idea to the continent, where it caught on and flourished under the influence of Charlemagne.
In the sixth century, in other words, there was no sixth century. People were generally aware of how long it had been since Christ was born (in the late fourth century some surmised that the 365th year after the crucifixion would see the second coming of Jesus), but public documents and official records, even church documents, used more ancient ways of counting. The commonest and most venerable were still consular years, and until 541 CE one or two consuls were appointed in each year and the year bore their names—“in the consulship of X and Y”—and the roster of names going back to 509 BCE was a source of pride for the families who found ancestors on it. When consuls were no longer named, counting and naming years from the beginning of the current emperor’s reign was more common.
0 notes
lovesbulgaria · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media
At the sack of Constantinople in 1453
Other dates offer themselves: we have already seen Gibbon’s choice, at the sack of Constantinople in 1453, but that was the whimper, not the bang. The balance of power in medieval Asia Minor had tilted strongly toward the Turks 200 years earlier, when the other Roman empire and its allies and friends, the crusaders, overthrew the Christian empire of Constantinople. Constantine’s fundamental idea, that he could maintain hegemony over the Balkans, Asia Minor, and the eastern lands beyond from a perch in the Bosporus and the Golden Horn, is exactly the idea that Mehmed the Conqueror accepted when he put Constantinople out of its misery and made it his capital. Dismantling the dilapidated city’s pathetic rump of an empire in 1453 secured Turkish domination more by securing continuity than by changing anything fundamental. (Some western powers even welcomed the new partner.) Mehmed saw himself as the successor to the Roman emperor, and thus in an important way Constantine’s fundamental vision was sustained intact not merely till 1453, but till 1924—the last gasp of the Ottoman empire and its suppression in favor of a more modest and modern republic of Turkey.
If we ask what became of the Roman-hearted (who had power that’s now departed), looking for a single date at which a switch was thrown and an empire ceased to exist never makes real sense. Instead, we’ll first have to reframe the question as one that can be answered, and answered on a human scale. Human beings live in a moving window of time that remembers a generation or two of the past reasonably well and that imagines a future best measured in decades, not centuries or millennia. The century or so from 476 to 604 CE reflects human plans and wishes with their successes and failures, showing how rulers who could not understand their world as existing on a continuum much older than themselves squandered countless opportunities stoletov bulgaria tours.
WHEN DID IT HAPPEN?
I will identify the dates of events using the western convention BCE and CE, corresponding to BC and AD. No one alive in the time of this story used that dating system regularly, and only a few were aware of it, but many would have understood it if you had described it to them. To the best of our knowledge, the scheme was devised in the 520s by Dionysius Exiguus (“Denis the Short” or perhaps merely “Denis the Humble”), who calculated that Jesus had been incarnated at the Annunciation—the moment when Mary met the angel and became pregnant, which he dated to March 25 in the year 754 of the city of Rome: that is, 1 CE or AD 1. (The first Christmas, by that reckoning, fell on December 25 of the year 1.)
Fortunately for us, Dionysius had the year wrong. Jesus was born no later than 4 BCE and perhaps as early as 8 BCE. If Dionysius had been correct, then the second millennium would have arrived between 1992 and 1996 and a generation of computer programmers would have had even less time than they did to forestall the confusion of Y2K. We hear of Dionysius’s work first in his own time in another writer’s treatise on the mechanism for fixing the date of Easter, and at least one seventh-century chronicler reckoned dates that way, but it was not until the eighth century that the Anglo-Saxon historian Bede employed it consistently and found a relatively wide readership. The scholar Alcuin took the idea to the continent, where it caught on and flourished under the influence of Charlemagne.
In the sixth century, in other words, there was no sixth century. People were generally aware of how long it had been since Christ was born (in the late fourth century some surmised that the 365th year after the crucifixion would see the second coming of Jesus), but public documents and official records, even church documents, used more ancient ways of counting. The commonest and most venerable were still consular years, and until 541 CE one or two consuls were appointed in each year and the year bore their names—“in the consulship of X and Y”—and the roster of names going back to 509 BCE was a source of pride for the families who found ancestors on it. When consuls were no longer named, counting and naming years from the beginning of the current emperor’s reign was more common.
0 notes
bulgariahit · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media
At the sack of Constantinople in 1453
Other dates offer themselves: we have already seen Gibbon’s choice, at the sack of Constantinople in 1453, but that was the whimper, not the bang. The balance of power in medieval Asia Minor had tilted strongly toward the Turks 200 years earlier, when the other Roman empire and its allies and friends, the crusaders, overthrew the Christian empire of Constantinople. Constantine’s fundamental idea, that he could maintain hegemony over the Balkans, Asia Minor, and the eastern lands beyond from a perch in the Bosporus and the Golden Horn, is exactly the idea that Mehmed the Conqueror accepted when he put Constantinople out of its misery and made it his capital. Dismantling the dilapidated city’s pathetic rump of an empire in 1453 secured Turkish domination more by securing continuity than by changing anything fundamental. (Some western powers even welcomed the new partner.) Mehmed saw himself as the successor to the Roman emperor, and thus in an important way Constantine’s fundamental vision was sustained intact not merely till 1453, but till 1924—the last gasp of the Ottoman empire and its suppression in favor of a more modest and modern republic of Turkey.
If we ask what became of the Roman-hearted (who had power that’s now departed), looking for a single date at which a switch was thrown and an empire ceased to exist never makes real sense. Instead, we’ll first have to reframe the question as one that can be answered, and answered on a human scale. Human beings live in a moving window of time that remembers a generation or two of the past reasonably well and that imagines a future best measured in decades, not centuries or millennia. The century or so from 476 to 604 CE reflects human plans and wishes with their successes and failures, showing how rulers who could not understand their world as existing on a continuum much older than themselves squandered countless opportunities stoletov bulgaria tours.
WHEN DID IT HAPPEN?
I will identify the dates of events using the western convention BCE and CE, corresponding to BC and AD. No one alive in the time of this story used that dating system regularly, and only a few were aware of it, but many would have understood it if you had described it to them. To the best of our knowledge, the scheme was devised in the 520s by Dionysius Exiguus (“Denis the Short” or perhaps merely “Denis the Humble”), who calculated that Jesus had been incarnated at the Annunciation—the moment when Mary met the angel and became pregnant, which he dated to March 25 in the year 754 of the city of Rome: that is, 1 CE or AD 1. (The first Christmas, by that reckoning, fell on December 25 of the year 1.)
Fortunately for us, Dionysius had the year wrong. Jesus was born no later than 4 BCE and perhaps as early as 8 BCE. If Dionysius had been correct, then the second millennium would have arrived between 1992 and 1996 and a generation of computer programmers would have had even less time than they did to forestall the confusion of Y2K. We hear of Dionysius’s work first in his own time in another writer’s treatise on the mechanism for fixing the date of Easter, and at least one seventh-century chronicler reckoned dates that way, but it was not until the eighth century that the Anglo-Saxon historian Bede employed it consistently and found a relatively wide readership. The scholar Alcuin took the idea to the continent, where it caught on and flourished under the influence of Charlemagne.
In the sixth century, in other words, there was no sixth century. People were generally aware of how long it had been since Christ was born (in the late fourth century some surmised that the 365th year after the crucifixion would see the second coming of Jesus), but public documents and official records, even church documents, used more ancient ways of counting. The commonest and most venerable were still consular years, and until 541 CE one or two consuls were appointed in each year and the year bore their names—“in the consulship of X and Y”—and the roster of names going back to 509 BCE was a source of pride for the families who found ancestors on it. When consuls were no longer named, counting and naming years from the beginning of the current emperor’s reign was more common.
0 notes
bulgarialive · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media
At the sack of Constantinople in 1453
Other dates offer themselves: we have already seen Gibbon’s choice, at the sack of Constantinople in 1453, but that was the whimper, not the bang. The balance of power in medieval Asia Minor had tilted strongly toward the Turks 200 years earlier, when the other Roman empire and its allies and friends, the crusaders, overthrew the Christian empire of Constantinople. Constantine’s fundamental idea, that he could maintain hegemony over the Balkans, Asia Minor, and the eastern lands beyond from a perch in the Bosporus and the Golden Horn, is exactly the idea that Mehmed the Conqueror accepted when he put Constantinople out of its misery and made it his capital. Dismantling the dilapidated city’s pathetic rump of an empire in 1453 secured Turkish domination more by securing continuity than by changing anything fundamental. (Some western powers even welcomed the new partner.) Mehmed saw himself as the successor to the Roman emperor, and thus in an important way Constantine’s fundamental vision was sustained intact not merely till 1453, but till 1924—the last gasp of the Ottoman empire and its suppression in favor of a more modest and modern republic of Turkey.
If we ask what became of the Roman-hearted (who had power that’s now departed), looking for a single date at which a switch was thrown and an empire ceased to exist never makes real sense. Instead, we’ll first have to reframe the question as one that can be answered, and answered on a human scale. Human beings live in a moving window of time that remembers a generation or two of the past reasonably well and that imagines a future best measured in decades, not centuries or millennia. The century or so from 476 to 604 CE reflects human plans and wishes with their successes and failures, showing how rulers who could not understand their world as existing on a continuum much older than themselves squandered countless opportunities stoletov bulgaria tours.
WHEN DID IT HAPPEN?
I will identify the dates of events using the western convention BCE and CE, corresponding to BC and AD. No one alive in the time of this story used that dating system regularly, and only a few were aware of it, but many would have understood it if you had described it to them. To the best of our knowledge, the scheme was devised in the 520s by Dionysius Exiguus (“Denis the Short” or perhaps merely “Denis the Humble”), who calculated that Jesus had been incarnated at the Annunciation—the moment when Mary met the angel and became pregnant, which he dated to March 25 in the year 754 of the city of Rome: that is, 1 CE or AD 1. (The first Christmas, by that reckoning, fell on December 25 of the year 1.)
Fortunately for us, Dionysius had the year wrong. Jesus was born no later than 4 BCE and perhaps as early as 8 BCE. If Dionysius had been correct, then the second millennium would have arrived between 1992 and 1996 and a generation of computer programmers would have had even less time than they did to forestall the confusion of Y2K. We hear of Dionysius’s work first in his own time in another writer’s treatise on the mechanism for fixing the date of Easter, and at least one seventh-century chronicler reckoned dates that way, but it was not until the eighth century that the Anglo-Saxon historian Bede employed it consistently and found a relatively wide readership. The scholar Alcuin took the idea to the continent, where it caught on and flourished under the influence of Charlemagne.
In the sixth century, in other words, there was no sixth century. People were generally aware of how long it had been since Christ was born (in the late fourth century some surmised that the 365th year after the crucifixion would see the second coming of Jesus), but public documents and official records, even church documents, used more ancient ways of counting. The commonest and most venerable were still consular years, and until 541 CE one or two consuls were appointed in each year and the year bore their names—“in the consulship of X and Y”—and the roster of names going back to 509 BCE was a source of pride for the families who found ancestors on it. When consuls were no longer named, counting and naming years from the beginning of the current emperor’s reign was more common.
0 notes
varnabulgaria · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media
At the sack of Constantinople in 1453
Other dates offer themselves: we have already seen Gibbon’s choice, at the sack of Constantinople in 1453, but that was the whimper, not the bang. The balance of power in medieval Asia Minor had tilted strongly toward the Turks 200 years earlier, when the other Roman empire and its allies and friends, the crusaders, overthrew the Christian empire of Constantinople. Constantine’s fundamental idea, that he could maintain hegemony over the Balkans, Asia Minor, and the eastern lands beyond from a perch in the Bosporus and the Golden Horn, is exactly the idea that Mehmed the Conqueror accepted when he put Constantinople out of its misery and made it his capital. Dismantling the dilapidated city’s pathetic rump of an empire in 1453 secured Turkish domination more by securing continuity than by changing anything fundamental. (Some western powers even welcomed the new partner.) Mehmed saw himself as the successor to the Roman emperor, and thus in an important way Constantine’s fundamental vision was sustained intact not merely till 1453, but till 1924—the last gasp of the Ottoman empire and its suppression in favor of a more modest and modern republic of Turkey.
If we ask what became of the Roman-hearted (who had power that’s now departed), looking for a single date at which a switch was thrown and an empire ceased to exist never makes real sense. Instead, we’ll first have to reframe the question as one that can be answered, and answered on a human scale. Human beings live in a moving window of time that remembers a generation or two of the past reasonably well and that imagines a future best measured in decades, not centuries or millennia. The century or so from 476 to 604 CE reflects human plans and wishes with their successes and failures, showing how rulers who could not understand their world as existing on a continuum much older than themselves squandered countless opportunities stoletov bulgaria tours.
WHEN DID IT HAPPEN?
I will identify the dates of events using the western convention BCE and CE, corresponding to BC and AD. No one alive in the time of this story used that dating system regularly, and only a few were aware of it, but many would have understood it if you had described it to them. To the best of our knowledge, the scheme was devised in the 520s by Dionysius Exiguus (“Denis the Short” or perhaps merely “Denis the Humble”), who calculated that Jesus had been incarnated at the Annunciation—the moment when Mary met the angel and became pregnant, which he dated to March 25 in the year 754 of the city of Rome: that is, 1 CE or AD 1. (The first Christmas, by that reckoning, fell on December 25 of the year 1.)
Fortunately for us, Dionysius had the year wrong. Jesus was born no later than 4 BCE and perhaps as early as 8 BCE. If Dionysius had been correct, then the second millennium would have arrived between 1992 and 1996 and a generation of computer programmers would have had even less time than they did to forestall the confusion of Y2K. We hear of Dionysius’s work first in his own time in another writer’s treatise on the mechanism for fixing the date of Easter, and at least one seventh-century chronicler reckoned dates that way, but it was not until the eighth century that the Anglo-Saxon historian Bede employed it consistently and found a relatively wide readership. The scholar Alcuin took the idea to the continent, where it caught on and flourished under the influence of Charlemagne.
In the sixth century, in other words, there was no sixth century. People were generally aware of how long it had been since Christ was born (in the late fourth century some surmised that the 365th year after the crucifixion would see the second coming of Jesus), but public documents and official records, even church documents, used more ancient ways of counting. The commonest and most venerable were still consular years, and until 541 CE one or two consuls were appointed in each year and the year bore their names—“in the consulship of X and Y”—and the roster of names going back to 509 BCE was a source of pride for the families who found ancestors on it. When consuls were no longer named, counting and naming years from the beginning of the current emperor’s reign was more common.
0 notes
oldschoolfrp · 1 year
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Some Star Citizen players named their organization after the First Church of Christ Computer-Programmer secret society in Paranoia
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bulgariasofia · 2 years
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At the sack of Constantinople in 1453
Other dates offer themselves: we have already seen Gibbon’s choice, at the sack of Constantinople in 1453, but that was the whimper, not the bang. The balance of power in medieval Asia Minor had tilted strongly toward the Turks 200 years earlier, when the other Roman empire and its allies and friends, the crusaders, overthrew the Christian empire of Constantinople. Constantine’s fundamental idea, that he could maintain hegemony over the Balkans, Asia Minor, and the eastern lands beyond from a perch in the Bosporus and the Golden Horn, is exactly the idea that Mehmed the Conqueror accepted when he put Constantinople out of its misery and made it his capital. Dismantling the dilapidated city’s pathetic rump of an empire in 1453 secured Turkish domination more by securing continuity than by changing anything fundamental. (Some western powers even welcomed the new partner.) Mehmed saw himself as the successor to the Roman emperor, and thus in an important way Constantine’s fundamental vision was sustained intact not merely till 1453, but till 1924—the last gasp of the Ottoman empire and its suppression in favor of a more modest and modern republic of Turkey.
If we ask what became of the Roman-hearted (who had power that’s now departed), looking for a single date at which a switch was thrown and an empire ceased to exist never makes real sense. Instead, we’ll first have to reframe the question as one that can be answered, and answered on a human scale. Human beings live in a moving window of time that remembers a generation or two of the past reasonably well and that imagines a future best measured in decades, not centuries or millennia. The century or so from 476 to 604 CE reflects human plans and wishes with their successes and failures, showing how rulers who could not understand their world as existing on a continuum much older than themselves squandered countless opportunities stoletov bulgaria tours.
WHEN DID IT HAPPEN?
I will identify the dates of events using the western convention BCE and CE, corresponding to BC and AD. No one alive in the time of this story used that dating system regularly, and only a few were aware of it, but many would have understood it if you had described it to them. To the best of our knowledge, the scheme was devised in the 520s by Dionysius Exiguus (“Denis the Short” or perhaps merely “Denis the Humble”), who calculated that Jesus had been incarnated at the Annunciation—the moment when Mary met the angel and became pregnant, which he dated to March 25 in the year 754 of the city of Rome: that is, 1 CE or AD 1. (The first Christmas, by that reckoning, fell on December 25 of the year 1.)
Fortunately for us, Dionysius had the year wrong. Jesus was born no later than 4 BCE and perhaps as early as 8 BCE. If Dionysius had been correct, then the second millennium would have arrived between 1992 and 1996 and a generation of computer programmers would have had even less time than they did to forestall the confusion of Y2K. We hear of Dionysius’s work first in his own time in another writer’s treatise on the mechanism for fixing the date of Easter, and at least one seventh-century chronicler reckoned dates that way, but it was not until the eighth century that the Anglo-Saxon historian Bede employed it consistently and found a relatively wide readership. The scholar Alcuin took the idea to the continent, where it caught on and flourished under the influence of Charlemagne.
In the sixth century, in other words, there was no sixth century. People were generally aware of how long it had been since Christ was born (in the late fourth century some surmised that the 365th year after the crucifixion would see the second coming of Jesus), but public documents and official records, even church documents, used more ancient ways of counting. The commonest and most venerable were still consular years, and until 541 CE one or two consuls were appointed in each year and the year bore their names—“in the consulship of X and Y”—and the roster of names going back to 509 BCE was a source of pride for the families who found ancestors on it. When consuls were no longer named, counting and naming years from the beginning of the current emperor’s reign was more common.
0 notes
bulgariatours · 2 years
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At the sack of Constantinople in 1453
Other dates offer themselves: we have already seen Gibbon’s choice, at the sack of Constantinople in 1453, but that was the whimper, not the bang. The balance of power in medieval Asia Minor had tilted strongly toward the Turks 200 years earlier, when the other Roman empire and its allies and friends, the crusaders, overthrew the Christian empire of Constantinople. Constantine’s fundamental idea, that he could maintain hegemony over the Balkans, Asia Minor, and the eastern lands beyond from a perch in the Bosporus and the Golden Horn, is exactly the idea that Mehmed the Conqueror accepted when he put Constantinople out of its misery and made it his capital. Dismantling the dilapidated city’s pathetic rump of an empire in 1453 secured Turkish domination more by securing continuity than by changing anything fundamental. (Some western powers even welcomed the new partner.) Mehmed saw himself as the successor to the Roman emperor, and thus in an important way Constantine’s fundamental vision was sustained intact not merely till 1453, but till 1924—the last gasp of the Ottoman empire and its suppression in favor of a more modest and modern republic of Turkey.
If we ask what became of the Roman-hearted (who had power that’s now departed), looking for a single date at which a switch was thrown and an empire ceased to exist never makes real sense. Instead, we’ll first have to reframe the question as one that can be answered, and answered on a human scale. Human beings live in a moving window of time that remembers a generation or two of the past reasonably well and that imagines a future best measured in decades, not centuries or millennia. The century or so from 476 to 604 CE reflects human plans and wishes with their successes and failures, showing how rulers who could not understand their world as existing on a continuum much older than themselves squandered countless opportunities stoletov bulgaria tours.
WHEN DID IT HAPPEN?
I will identify the dates of events using the western convention BCE and CE, corresponding to BC and AD. No one alive in the time of this story used that dating system regularly, and only a few were aware of it, but many would have understood it if you had described it to them. To the best of our knowledge, the scheme was devised in the 520s by Dionysius Exiguus (“Denis the Short” or perhaps merely “Denis the Humble”), who calculated that Jesus had been incarnated at the Annunciation—the moment when Mary met the angel and became pregnant, which he dated to March 25 in the year 754 of the city of Rome: that is, 1 CE or AD 1. (The first Christmas, by that reckoning, fell on December 25 of the year 1.)
Fortunately for us, Dionysius had the year wrong. Jesus was born no later than 4 BCE and perhaps as early as 8 BCE. If Dionysius had been correct, then the second millennium would have arrived between 1992 and 1996 and a generation of computer programmers would have had even less time than they did to forestall the confusion of Y2K. We hear of Dionysius’s work first in his own time in another writer’s treatise on the mechanism for fixing the date of Easter, and at least one seventh-century chronicler reckoned dates that way, but it was not until the eighth century that the Anglo-Saxon historian Bede employed it consistently and found a relatively wide readership. The scholar Alcuin took the idea to the continent, where it caught on and flourished under the influence of Charlemagne.
In the sixth century, in other words, there was no sixth century. People were generally aware of how long it had been since Christ was born (in the late fourth century some surmised that the 365th year after the crucifixion would see the second coming of Jesus), but public documents and official records, even church documents, used more ancient ways of counting. The commonest and most venerable were still consular years, and until 541 CE one or two consuls were appointed in each year and the year bore their names—“in the consulship of X and Y”—and the roster of names going back to 509 BCE was a source of pride for the families who found ancestors on it. When consuls were no longer named, counting and naming years from the beginning of the current emperor’s reign was more common.
0 notes
bulgariasr · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media
At the sack of Constantinople in 1453
Other dates offer themselves: we have already seen Gibbon’s choice, at the sack of Constantinople in 1453, but that was the whimper, not the bang. The balance of power in medieval Asia Minor had tilted strongly toward the Turks 200 years earlier, when the other Roman empire and its allies and friends, the crusaders, overthrew the Christian empire of Constantinople. Constantine’s fundamental idea, that he could maintain hegemony over the Balkans, Asia Minor, and the eastern lands beyond from a perch in the Bosporus and the Golden Horn, is exactly the idea that Mehmed the Conqueror accepted when he put Constantinople out of its misery and made it his capital. Dismantling the dilapidated city’s pathetic rump of an empire in 1453 secured Turkish domination more by securing continuity than by changing anything fundamental. (Some western powers even welcomed the new partner.) Mehmed saw himself as the successor to the Roman emperor, and thus in an important way Constantine’s fundamental vision was sustained intact not merely till 1453, but till 1924—the last gasp of the Ottoman empire and its suppression in favor of a more modest and modern republic of Turkey.
If we ask what became of the Roman-hearted (who had power that’s now departed), looking for a single date at which a switch was thrown and an empire ceased to exist never makes real sense. Instead, we’ll first have to reframe the question as one that can be answered, and answered on a human scale. Human beings live in a moving window of time that remembers a generation or two of the past reasonably well and that imagines a future best measured in decades, not centuries or millennia. The century or so from 476 to 604 CE reflects human plans and wishes with their successes and failures, showing how rulers who could not understand their world as existing on a continuum much older than themselves squandered countless opportunities stoletov bulgaria tours.
WHEN DID IT HAPPEN?
I will identify the dates of events using the western convention BCE and CE, corresponding to BC and AD. No one alive in the time of this story used that dating system regularly, and only a few were aware of it, but many would have understood it if you had described it to them. To the best of our knowledge, the scheme was devised in the 520s by Dionysius Exiguus (“Denis the Short” or perhaps merely “Denis the Humble”), who calculated that Jesus had been incarnated at the Annunciation—the moment when Mary met the angel and became pregnant, which he dated to March 25 in the year 754 of the city of Rome: that is, 1 CE or AD 1. (The first Christmas, by that reckoning, fell on December 25 of the year 1.)
Fortunately for us, Dionysius had the year wrong. Jesus was born no later than 4 BCE and perhaps as early as 8 BCE. If Dionysius had been correct, then the second millennium would have arrived between 1992 and 1996 and a generation of computer programmers would have had even less time than they did to forestall the confusion of Y2K. We hear of Dionysius’s work first in his own time in another writer’s treatise on the mechanism for fixing the date of Easter, and at least one seventh-century chronicler reckoned dates that way, but it was not until the eighth century that the Anglo-Saxon historian Bede employed it consistently and found a relatively wide readership. The scholar Alcuin took the idea to the continent, where it caught on and flourished under the influence of Charlemagne.
In the sixth century, in other words, there was no sixth century. People were generally aware of how long it had been since Christ was born (in the late fourth century some surmised that the 365th year after the crucifixion would see the second coming of Jesus), but public documents and official records, even church documents, used more ancient ways of counting. The commonest and most venerable were still consular years, and until 541 CE one or two consuls were appointed in each year and the year bore their names—“in the consulship of X and Y”—and the roster of names going back to 509 BCE was a source of pride for the families who found ancestors on it. When consuls were no longer named, counting and naming years from the beginning of the current emperor’s reign was more common.
0 notes
bulgarialife · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media
At the sack of Constantinople in 1453
Other dates offer themselves: we have already seen Gibbon’s choice, at the sack of Constantinople in 1453, but that was the whimper, not the bang. The balance of power in medieval Asia Minor had tilted strongly toward the Turks 200 years earlier, when the other Roman empire and its allies and friends, the crusaders, overthrew the Christian empire of Constantinople. Constantine’s fundamental idea, that he could maintain hegemony over the Balkans, Asia Minor, and the eastern lands beyond from a perch in the Bosporus and the Golden Horn, is exactly the idea that Mehmed the Conqueror accepted when he put Constantinople out of its misery and made it his capital. Dismantling the dilapidated city’s pathetic rump of an empire in 1453 secured Turkish domination more by securing continuity than by changing anything fundamental. (Some western powers even welcomed the new partner.) Mehmed saw himself as the successor to the Roman emperor, and thus in an important way Constantine’s fundamental vision was sustained intact not merely till 1453, but till 1924—the last gasp of the Ottoman empire and its suppression in favor of a more modest and modern republic of Turkey.
If we ask what became of the Roman-hearted (who had power that’s now departed), looking for a single date at which a switch was thrown and an empire ceased to exist never makes real sense. Instead, we’ll first have to reframe the question as one that can be answered, and answered on a human scale. Human beings live in a moving window of time that remembers a generation or two of the past reasonably well and that imagines a future best measured in decades, not centuries or millennia. The century or so from 476 to 604 CE reflects human plans and wishes with their successes and failures, showing how rulers who could not understand their world as existing on a continuum much older than themselves squandered countless opportunities stoletov bulgaria tours.
WHEN DID IT HAPPEN?
I will identify the dates of events using the western convention BCE and CE, corresponding to BC and AD. No one alive in the time of this story used that dating system regularly, and only a few were aware of it, but many would have understood it if you had described it to them. To the best of our knowledge, the scheme was devised in the 520s by Dionysius Exiguus (“Denis the Short” or perhaps merely “Denis the Humble”), who calculated that Jesus had been incarnated at the Annunciation—the moment when Mary met the angel and became pregnant, which he dated to March 25 in the year 754 of the city of Rome: that is, 1 CE or AD 1. (The first Christmas, by that reckoning, fell on December 25 of the year 1.)
Fortunately for us, Dionysius had the year wrong. Jesus was born no later than 4 BCE and perhaps as early as 8 BCE. If Dionysius had been correct, then the second millennium would have arrived between 1992 and 1996 and a generation of computer programmers would have had even less time than they did to forestall the confusion of Y2K. We hear of Dionysius’s work first in his own time in another writer’s treatise on the mechanism for fixing the date of Easter, and at least one seventh-century chronicler reckoned dates that way, but it was not until the eighth century that the Anglo-Saxon historian Bede employed it consistently and found a relatively wide readership. The scholar Alcuin took the idea to the continent, where it caught on and flourished under the influence of Charlemagne.
In the sixth century, in other words, there was no sixth century. People were generally aware of how long it had been since Christ was born (in the late fourth century some surmised that the 365th year after the crucifixion would see the second coming of Jesus), but public documents and official records, even church documents, used more ancient ways of counting. The commonest and most venerable were still consular years, and until 541 CE one or two consuls were appointed in each year and the year bore their names—“in the consulship of X and Y”—and the roster of names going back to 509 BCE was a source of pride for the families who found ancestors on it. When consuls were no longer named, counting and naming years from the beginning of the current emperor’s reign was more common.
0 notes
enbulgaria · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media
At the sack of Constantinople in 1453
Other dates offer themselves: we have already seen Gibbon’s choice, at the sack of Constantinople in 1453, but that was the whimper, not the bang. The balance of power in medieval Asia Minor had tilted strongly toward the Turks 200 years earlier, when the other Roman empire and its allies and friends, the crusaders, overthrew the Christian empire of Constantinople. Constantine’s fundamental idea, that he could maintain hegemony over the Balkans, Asia Minor, and the eastern lands beyond from a perch in the Bosporus and the Golden Horn, is exactly the idea that Mehmed the Conqueror accepted when he put Constantinople out of its misery and made it his capital. Dismantling the dilapidated city’s pathetic rump of an empire in 1453 secured Turkish domination more by securing continuity than by changing anything fundamental. (Some western powers even welcomed the new partner.) Mehmed saw himself as the successor to the Roman emperor, and thus in an important way Constantine’s fundamental vision was sustained intact not merely till 1453, but till 1924—the last gasp of the Ottoman empire and its suppression in favor of a more modest and modern republic of Turkey.
If we ask what became of the Roman-hearted (who had power that’s now departed), looking for a single date at which a switch was thrown and an empire ceased to exist never makes real sense. Instead, we’ll first have to reframe the question as one that can be answered, and answered on a human scale. Human beings live in a moving window of time that remembers a generation or two of the past reasonably well and that imagines a future best measured in decades, not centuries or millennia. The century or so from 476 to 604 CE reflects human plans and wishes with their successes and failures, showing how rulers who could not understand their world as existing on a continuum much older than themselves squandered countless opportunities stoletov bulgaria tours.
WHEN DID IT HAPPEN?
I will identify the dates of events using the western convention BCE and CE, corresponding to BC and AD. No one alive in the time of this story used that dating system regularly, and only a few were aware of it, but many would have understood it if you had described it to them. To the best of our knowledge, the scheme was devised in the 520s by Dionysius Exiguus (“Denis the Short” or perhaps merely “Denis the Humble”), who calculated that Jesus had been incarnated at the Annunciation—the moment when Mary met the angel and became pregnant, which he dated to March 25 in the year 754 of the city of Rome: that is, 1 CE or AD 1. (The first Christmas, by that reckoning, fell on December 25 of the year 1.)
Fortunately for us, Dionysius had the year wrong. Jesus was born no later than 4 BCE and perhaps as early as 8 BCE. If Dionysius had been correct, then the second millennium would have arrived between 1992 and 1996 and a generation of computer programmers would have had even less time than they did to forestall the confusion of Y2K. We hear of Dionysius’s work first in his own time in another writer’s treatise on the mechanism for fixing the date of Easter, and at least one seventh-century chronicler reckoned dates that way, but it was not until the eighth century that the Anglo-Saxon historian Bede employed it consistently and found a relatively wide readership. The scholar Alcuin took the idea to the continent, where it caught on and flourished under the influence of Charlemagne.
In the sixth century, in other words, there was no sixth century. People were generally aware of how long it had been since Christ was born (in the late fourth century some surmised that the 365th year after the crucifixion would see the second coming of Jesus), but public documents and official records, even church documents, used more ancient ways of counting. The commonest and most venerable were still consular years, and until 541 CE one or two consuls were appointed in each year and the year bore their names—“in the consulship of X and Y”—and the roster of names going back to 509 BCE was a source of pride for the families who found ancestors on it. When consuls were no longer named, counting and naming years from the beginning of the current emperor’s reign was more common.
0 notes