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はてなキーワード: Scratchとは
俺の認識だと「フルスクラッチ」ってのは和製英語で、英語の"from scratch"から来てる
https://www.octoparse.jp/blog/how-to-build-a-web-crawler-from-scratch-a-guide-for-beginners
Betsy and Solomon lived happily through that winter and spring, and before summer came we had made up our minds to return to the East. What should we do with the owls? They would be a great deal of trouble to some one. They required an immense amount of petting, and a frequent supply of perfectly fresh meat. No matter how busy we were, one of us had to go to the butcher every other day.
We began to inquire among our friends who would like a nice, affectionate pair of owls? There seemed no great eagerness on the part of any one to(23) take the pets we so much valued. Plans for their future worried me so much that at last I said to my sister, “We will take them East with us.”
The owls, who were to take so long a journey, became objects of interest to our friends, and at a farewell tea given to us, a smartly dressed young man vowed that he must take leave of Solomon and Betsy. Calling for a broom, he slowly passed it to and fro over the carpet before them, while they sat looking at him with lifted ear tufts that betrayed great interest in his movements.
We trembled a little in view of our past moving experiences, but we were devoted to the little creatures and, when the time came, we cheerfully boarded the overland train at Oakland.
We had with us Betsy and Solomon in their large cage, and in a little cage a pair of strawberry finches, so called because their breasts are dotted like a strawberry. A friend had requested us to bring them East for her. We had also a dog—not Teddy, that had only been lent to us; but our own Irish setter Nita, one of the most lovable and interesting animals that I have ever owned.
The chipmunk was no longer with us. He had not seemed happy in the aviary—indeed, he lay down in it and threw me a cunning look, as if to say, “I will die if you don’t let me out of this.” So I gave him the freedom of the house. That pleased him, and for a few days he was very diligent in assisting us with our housekeeping by picking(24) all the crumbs off the floors and eating them. Then he disappeared, and I hope was happy ever after among the superb oak trees of the university grounds close to us.
When we started for the East, the pets, of course, had to go into the baggage car, and I must say here for the benefit of those persons who wish to travel with animals and birds, that there is good accommodation for them on overland trains. Sometimes we bought tickets for them, sometimes they had to go in an express car, sometimes we tipped the baggagemasters, but the sums spent were not exorbitant, and we found everywhere provision made for pets. You cannot take them in your rooms in hotels, but there is a place for them somewhere, and they will be brought to you whenever you wish to see them, or to give them exercise. We were on several different railway lines, and visited eight different cities, and the dog and birds, upon arriving in eastern Canada, seemed none the worse for their trip.
However, I would not by any means encourage the transportation of animals. Indeed, my feelings on the subject, since I understand the horrors animals and birds endure while being whirled from one place to another, are rather too strong for utterance. I would only say that in a case like mine, where separation between an owner and pets would mean unhappiness, it is better for both to endure a few days or weeks of travel. Then the case of animals(25) and birds traveling with some one who sees and encourages them every day is different from the case of unfortunate creatures sent off alone.
Our Nita was taken out of the car at every station where it was possible to exercise her, and one of us would run into restaurants along the route to obtain fresh meat for the owls. Their cage was closely covered, but whenever they heard us coming they hooted, and as no one seemed to guess what they were, they created a great deal of interest. My sister and I were amused one evening in Salt Lake City to see a man bending over the cage with an air of perplexity.
“They must be pollies,” he said at last, and yet his face showed that he did not think those were parrot noises issuing from within.
I remember one evening on arriving in Albany, New York, causing slight consternation in the hotel by a demand for raw meat. We hastened to explain that we did not want it for ourselves, and finally obtained what we wished.
As soon as we arrived home in Halifax, Nova Scotia, the owls were put downstairs in a nice, dry basement. They soon found their way upstairs, where the whole family was prepared to welcome them on account of their pretty ways and their love for caresses.
Strange to say, they took a liking to my father, who did not notice them particularly, and a mischievous dislike to my mother, who was disposed to(26) pet them. They used to fly on her head whenever they saw her. Their little claws were sharp and unpleasant to her scalp. We could not imagine why they selected her head unless it was that her gray hair attracted them. However, we had a French Acadian maid called Lizzie, whose hair was jet black, and they disliked her even more than they did my mother.
Lizzie, to get to her storeroom, had to cross the furnace-room where the owls usually were, and she soon began to complain bitterly of them.
“Dey watch me,” she said indignantly, “dey fly on my head, dey scratch me, an’ pull out my hairpins, an’ make my head sore.”
“Why don’t you push them off, Lizzie?” I asked, “they are only tiny things.”
“Dey won’t go—dey hold on an’ beat me,” she replied, and soon the poor girl had to arm herself with a switch when she went near them.
Lizzie was a descendant of the veritable Acadians mentioned in Longfellow’s “Evangeline,” of whom there are several thousand in Nova Scotia. My mother was attached to her, and at last she said, “I will not have Lizzie worried. Bring the owls up in my bathroom.”
There they seemed perfectly happy, sitting watching the sparrows from the window and teasing my long-suffering mother, who was obliged to give up using gas in this bathroom, for very often the owls put it out by flying at it.
(27)
One never heard them coming. I did not before this realize how noiseless the flight of an owl is. One did not dream they were near till there was a breath of air fanning one’s cheek. After we gave up the gas, for fear they would burn themselves, we decided to use a candle. It was absolutely necessary to have an unshaded light, for they would perch on any globe shading a flame, and would burn their feet.
The candle was more fun for them than the gas, for it had a smaller flame, and was more easily extinguished, and usually on entering the room, away would go the light, and we would hear in the corner a laughing voice, saying “Too, who, who, who, who!”
The best joke of all for the owls was to put out the candle when one was taking a bath, and I must say I heard considerable grumbling from the family on the subject. It seemed impossible to shade the light from them, and to find one’s self in the dark in the midst of a good splash, to have to emerge from the tub, dripping and cross, and search for matches, was certainly not calculated to add to one’s affection for Solomon and Betsy. However, they were members of the family, and as George Eliot says, “The members of your family are like the nose on your face—you have got to put up with it, seeing you can’t get rid of it.”
Alas! the time soon came when we had to lament the death of one of our troublesome but beloved pets.
Betsy one day partook heartily of a raw fish head,(28) and in spite of remedies applied, sickened rapidly and sank into a dying condition.
I was surprised to find what a hold the little thing had taken on my affection. When her soft, gray body became cold, I held her in my hand close to the fire and, with tears in my eyes, wished for a miracle to restore her to health.
She lay quietly until just before she died. Then she opened her eyes and I called to the other members of the family to come and see their strange expression. They became luminous and beautiful, and dilated in a peculiar way. We hear of the eyes of dying persons lighting up wonderfully, and this strange illumination of little Betsy’s eyes reminded me of such cases.
Even after death she lay with those wide-open eyes, and feeling that I had lost a friend, I put down her little dead body. It was impossible for me to conceal my emotion, and my mother, who had quite forgotten Betsy’s hostility to her, generously took the little feathered creature to a taxidermist.
I may say that Betsy was the first and last bird I shall ever have stuffed. I dare say the man did the work as well as it could be done, but I gazed in dismay at my Betsy when she came home. That stiff little creature sitting on a stick, with glazed eyes and motionless body, could not be the pretty little bird whose every motion was grace. Ever since the day of Betsy’s death, I can feel no admiration for a dead bird. Indeed, I turn sometimes with a shudder(29) from the agonized postures, the horrible eyes of birds in my sister women’s hats—and yet I used to wear them myself. My present conviction shows what education will do. If you like and study live birds, you won’t want to wear dead ones.
After Betsy’s death Solomon seemed so lonely that I resolved to buy him a companion. I chose a robin, and bought him for two dollars from a woman who kept a small shop. A naturalist friend warned me that I would have trouble, but I said remonstratingly, “My owl is not like other owls. He has been brought up like a baby. He does not know that his ancestors killed little birds.”
Alas! When my robin had got beautifully tame, when he would hop about after me, and put his pretty head on one side while I dug in the earth for worms for him, when he was apparently on the best of terms with Sollie, I came home one day to a dreadful discovery. Sollie was flying about with the robin’s body firmly clutched in one claw. He had killed and partly eaten him. I caught him, took the robin away from him, and upbraided him severely.
“Too, who, who, who who,” he said—apologetically, it seemed to me, “instinct was too strong for me. I got tired of playing with him, and thought I would see what he tasted like.”
I could not say too much to him. What about the innocent lambs and calves, of which Sollie’s owners had partaken?
(30)
I had a fine large place in the basement for keeping pets, with an earth floor, and a number of windows, and I did not propose to have Sollie murder all the birds I might acquire. So, one end of this room was wired off for him. He had a window in this cage overlooking the garden, and it was large enough for me to go in and walk about, while talking to him. He seemed happy enough there, and while gazing into the garden or watching the rabbits, guineapigs, and other pets in the large part of the room, often indulged in long, contented spells of cooing—not hooting.
In 1902 I was obliged to leave him for a six months’ trip to Europe. He was much petted by my sister, and I think spent most of his time upstairs with the family. When I returned home I brought, among other birds, a handsome Brazil cardinal. I stood admiring him as he stepped out of his traveling cage and flew around the aviary. Unfortunately, instead of choosing a perch, he flattened himself against the wire netting in Sollie’s corner.
I was looking right at him and the owl, and I never saw anything but lightning equal the celerity of Sollie’s flight, as he precipitated himself against the netting and caught at my cardinal’s showy red crest. The cardinal screamed like a baby, and I ran to release him, marveling that the owl could so insinuate his little claws through the fine mesh of the wire. However, he could do it, and he gripped the struggling cardinal by the long, hair-like(31) topknot, until I uncurled the wicked little claws. A bunch of red feathers fell to the ground, and the dismayed cardinal flew into a corner.
“Sollie,” I said, going into his cage and taking him in my hand, “how could you be so cruel to that new bird?”
“Oh, coo, coo, coo, coo,” he replied in a delightfully soft little voice, and gently resting his naughty little beak against my face. “You had better come upstairs,” I said, “I am afraid to leave you down here with that poor cardinal. You will be catching him again.”
He cooed once more. This just suited him, and he spent the rest of his life in regions above. I knew that he would probably not live as long in captivity as he would have done if his lot had been cast in the California foothills. His life was too unnatural. In their native state, owls eat their prey whole, and after a time disgorge pellets of bones, feathers, hairs, and scales, the remnants of food that cannot be digested.
My owls, on account of their upbringing, wanted their food cleaned for them. Betsy, one day, after much persuasion, swallowed a mouse to oblige me, but she was such a dismal picture as she sat for a long time with the tail hanging out of her beak that I never offered her another.
I tried to keep Solomon in condition by giving him, or forcing him to take, foreign substances, but my plan only worked for a time.
(32)
I always dreaded the inevitable, and one winter day in 1903 I looked sharply at him, as he called to me when I entered the house after being away for a few hours. “That bird is ill!” I said.
No other member of the family saw any change in him, but when one keeps birds and becomes familiar with the appearance of each one, they all have different facial and bodily expressions, and one becomes extremely susceptible to the slightest change. As I examined Sollie, my heart sank within me, and I began to inquire what he had been eating. He had partaken freely of boiled egg, meat, and charcoal. I gave him a dose of olive oil, and I must say that the best bird or beast to take medicine is an owl. Neither he nor Betsy ever objected in the l
Hit points are a combination of actual physical constitution, skill at the avoidance of taking real physical damage, luck and/or magical or divine factors. Ten points of damage dealt to a rhino indicated a considerable wound, while the same damage sustained by the 8th level fighter indicates a near miss, a slight wound, and a bit of luck used up, a bit of fatigue piling up against his or her skill at avoiding the fatal cut or thrust. So even when a hit is scored in melee combat, it is more often than not a grazing blow, a scratch, a mere light wound which would have been fatal (or nearly so) to a lesser mortal. If sufficient numbers of such wounds accrue to the character, however, stamina, skill, and luck will eventually run out, and an attack will strike home...
PCのリースなら許可いらない。けど古物商は取っといて損しない
https://kyoninka-support.net/43/
子供向けについて
案外、エクセルのショートカットを壁に貼って覚えましょうねみたいなのもウケるかも？
最近だと情報の授業で基礎＝低レイヤのことも学ばせるみたいな話がある。勉強し直さなきゃ
大人向けについて
PythonとJavaScriptでいいだろ
既に動く環境を貸出PCに作っちゃって、講師の助けいらなくなったら貸出料だけもらって…みたいにしちゃえば解決すると思った
最近はスマホ持ってるけどPC無いみたいな人も多いしいけると考えてる（個人で細々やる分には）
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自分の中の知識を外の人に伝えて、知識の希少価値を下げ、自身を希薄化させたいのかもしれない
身内に不幸があった2日後に泣きながら講師労働をした経験があり、自分に向いていると感じている
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あとで考えとく
JavaScript/TypeScript だけ出来ても仕方がないんだけど、全くのプログラミング初心者がプログラミングというものをかじるための入り口として勧める人は割と居るように思う。SCRATCH的な意味でのプログラミング入門用として。
まあ、俺は勧めないけどね (^^;
最近、東方アレンジの「インターネットサバイバー」や、くそみそテクニックアニメ化、あるいは「NEEDY GIRL OVERDOSE」など
「インターネット老人会」的なものを想起させるコンテンツが多く世に出てるけど
これらのメインターゲットが、作中で使われているようなネタをリアルタイムで体験しただろう世代（20後半〜30)と考えるのは間違いだと思う
これを書いている自分は小五の頃、ニコニコ動画の古いネタにハマってた
当時でも十分古かったし、リアルタイムで立ち会えてたらなあと思っていた
その熱が冷めてしばらく後、自分はScratch（子供向けプログラミングツール&投稿サイト 小中学生の独自の文化がある）をやっていた
そこで見つけた作品で、逆転裁判のキャラがニコニコの昔のネタを明らかに子供が描いた文章で言いまくるというものがあった
これを見て、自分がやってたことは平凡だったと落胆し、あれは誰もが通る道だったんだなと納得した
当時の自分そのままでなくても、単純にネットネイティブで当時からネット見てたとか、今の自分みたいに時期がズレたノスタルジーを感じてるような子供は間違いなく存在する
YouTubeで子供が見るような動画を見ると、普通に阿部さんアイコンがいる
高学年の息子は最近全然手がかからなくなった。昔からScratchは好きだったけど、今では
youtube等でいろんなゲームの作り方を調べる→自分なりにゲームを作ってみる
が、できるようになった。
もう私には分からないくらい複雑なゲームを作ってて感心する。子供のうちからインプットとアウトプットをセットで自発的にできるのは偉い。あと、何年も飽きずに続けたのも偉い。自分が作ったゲームを妹に「つまらない」と言われても「自分で作ったことないやつは平気ですぐに批判するよな！じゃあ自分で作ってみろって感じ！」と怒ったりしてる。元バンドマンの夫がすごい勢いで同意してて笑った
下の子は保育園の頃から登校拒否が酷かったけど、小学生になっても引き続き朝はグズる日が多い。理由はママと離れたくないから。私は娘と接する時間を増やすためフルリモートの仕事に就いた。それなのに、放課後も土曜も毎日近所の子と遊びに行ってしまう。あと最近同じクラスに彼氏までできたらしい。
そんなにリア充なら学校も笑顔で行ってくれよとも思うが、なんだかんだで登校できてるしまぁいいや。
今日は時間があったので、育児が一番しんどかった頃書いた増田を読み返していた(https://anond.hatelabo.jp/20191211101840)
笑ってしまうくらい地獄で、そのころと比べてマシになったことも諦めたことも沢山あるけれど、まぁ成長してる部分も確かにあるよなと
３年経っても上の子はScratchばかりで宿題は夜中にならないとしない、下の子は登校拒否をしてるし、私は増田を書いている
まぁでもなんとかなっている
若手から中堅、シニアに至るまでみんな「プログラマーになりたい」と言っているのだが
現実問題としてそんなに簡単になれるものではない、というのを知っておいて欲しい
算数や国語は長い歴史の中で様々な試行錯誤が行われ、どのように教えれば大半の人が知識獲得できるかという方法論が確立されてきている
もちろんまだまだ改善の余地はあるが「こういう教え方が良い」というのがちゃんとある
ところがプログラミングに関してはまだまだ歴史が浅く、どのように教育すればプログラマーになれるかが分かっていない
幼少期からC言語を教えるのか、Scratchでいいのか、Pythonがいいのか、何も分かっていない
今のプログラマー達は生存者バイアスでしかないので体験談は全然アテにならない
何かしらそれっぽい理論が発表されてたりもするがエビデンスに欠けるモノが多くてまだまだ研究中という感じだ
そんな感じなので「実際に書いてみるのがいい」「業務で使いながら覚える」「写経するのが良い」などなどいろんな方法論が乱立している
あなたがプログラミングを勉強し始めると「教え方が良くない」「本が役に立たない」となることを覚悟してほしいし
勉強法をトライアンドエラーで繰り返していくことになるので技能獲得には相当な時間がかかる
PythonでもJavaScriptでもメモリのアロケーションのような計算機的知識が必要とされる
みたいに言われることも多いが実際にはそんなことはなく、ちょっとしたバグを引いたときにでもその手の知識が必要になる
もちろん昔に比べれば非常に楽になったが全くゼロでいい訳では無い
同様にクラウドリソースを使うときにTCP/IPを全く知らなくて良いか、と言われるとそうでもない
GraphQL使うときにHTTPの知識が全くいらないわけではないように
プログラミングでは下手するとWiFiやLTE/5Gの知識まで必要とされる
これは例えば建築関係においても同様で、家を建てる人にはコンクリートの基礎知識が必要だったり木材に関する基礎知識が必要だったりするのだが
歴史が古い分野では教育法が確立されているので建築学科なりに行けばキッチリ教えてくれる
同様に情報系の学部に行けば教えてくれるが、大学による差がかなり大きいし、体系化されているわけではない
Word, Excelの使い方を中心に教えるような大学もあれば情報理論から教えるような大学もあるし
それのどちらが良いかは誰も分かっていない
オンラインビデオで有名大学の授業を見ることもできるが、質問はできないので分からないところがあれば終わりだ
なので大学に行ったとしてもいろんな授業を受けてトライアンドエラーで長い時間をかけて技能獲得する必要がある
「Python検定1級」みたいなのが乱立しているがはっきり言って役に立たない
しかも「Python検定1級取得のための集中研修」みたいなのもあって地獄みがある
問題を解くための知識だけを得たところで前述した前提知識がないと実務で役に立たない
プログラマーを雇う側はその手のことをよく知っているので、こういった資格は全く考慮に入れていない
TOEICや英検のように「実務ではあんまり役に立たないんだけどな」と思われてる資格であっても社会的にコンセンサスが取れていればそれなりに役に立つが
プログラミングに関してはそういった資格がない状態である（IPAはそれなりに信頼されているが、取って無いから落とすようなことはない）
この英語における「TOEICがない」状態で困るのは効果測定である
プログラミングを勉強しても自分が成長しているのかどうかを客観的に知る方法が無いので独学で学んでも役に立つかどうか分からない
オープンソースに携わったり業務経験などを経て長い時間をかけて「プログラミングができるようになってきた」となるので1，2年でさっさとプログラマーになることはできない
一番の近道は旧帝大の院に入学して2年間キッチリ勉強すればそれなりのプログラマーになれる
もちろんスタートラインなのでそこから業務経験を身につける必要がある
なので旧帝大の院に入れないような人はプログラマーとしての前提知識を得るための前提知識がそもそも足りていない
独学でやるなら近道は一切無いので5年ぐらいは覚悟した方が良いと思う
はてなー歴はwindows vistaの頃からなんだけど、仕事はエンジニアではなく、ITのこと全然わからない。
息子氏小学校高学年は、発達障害で運動はからっきしダメ。頭脳も明晰とは言い難いかな。平均よりは良さそうだけど。
Scratchは何かいじってる。マイクラでは遊んでるけど、switchのプログラミング のゲームは全くやらない。
ピアノとか水泳とかそういう習い事的な感じで、人生の選択肢を増やす一つとしてプログラミングスクールに通わせたい。本人もやってみたいとは言う。
関東だが郊外すぎて自宅から通える範囲に全国展開しているような教室はない。オンライン学習のやつがいいんだけど、息子氏のテンションがそこまで高くないので、初期投資が高いのは辛い。
https://crefus.com/e-crefus/digest/
をやってみたいっていうので調べたら、最初に6.5万円のロボットキットを買わなきゃならんらしい。息子氏のテンションにそこまで投資できない。
サイバーエージェントのやつが高いけど良さそうかなとも思ったけど、まず無料相談の予約が取れねーじゃねーか。
self-hostedのtodoとかwikiとかbookmarkとかPocketみたいなのをちまちま作って使ってたけど今はやめてる
ドッグフーディングは良いことなんだけど、self-hostedでトラブルがあって作業が止まるのはつらい
そのトラブルが起こる原因のほとんどが自分であり、自分が怠惰だからで、
いつか〜しないとマズいなぁ…、と思ってると自業自得で使えなくなるのつらい
で、今は他人の書いたのをself-hostしてるけど、やっぱり不満がある
端的に言って、なんだかんだ大抵ははてブよりも完成度は低い
あと、ゲーム開発は開発が目的であって、ゲームを楽しむためではないし、
面白いゲームを作ることより、ゲームをどう開発するかばかりに目が言ってしまうので、
ぶっちゃけ、そこを満たすのであればゲームはどうでもいいのである
あと、画像処理のツールをライフワークとして作りたいと思っていたが、
なかなか実現しないというか、理想ばかり追ったり、作って壊してを繰り返したりしてたが、
マジで大病してから余命が少ない気がしているので、なんらかの形にはしたいと思ってる
例えば、画面内にWindowsのスタートボタンの画像と同じ箇所があったらクリックしろみたいなブロックがあって、
そのブロックを実行すれば、スタートボタンがクリックされるみたいな感じである
でも、Power Automationが無償になったりして作る気力がなくなった
最近はその辺の知見を別のことに使おうと思ってる
ただ、ゲーム開発でScratchみたいなのとかローコード、ノーコードはもうレッドオーシャンなので、
なんか変化球を投げたい
たしかに、今の時代は何でもあるので、作り意味がないというか作る気力がなくなるけど、
レッドオーシャンでも変化球が思い付くならば、プログラミングする意義はまだまだあるとは思う
でも、自分の書いたプログラムを生活に役立てるとか重視するのは、
そうやっていくと自分で管理できるキャパシティを越えて破綻するのは目に見えてる
だから、どうしてもこれだけは納得できないとか、身近すぎるとか、
くだらなすぎて世の中にないとか、そういうのに着目するといいような気がする
でも、こんなくだらないアイディア、本当にくだらなすぎて誰も作ってないのでは？
と思ってググると、それも地球のどこかで誰かが作ってたりするので、
まだまだくだらないことを考える能力が足りない、
Switchのソフトで『はじめてゲームプログラミング』ってあるじゃん
子どもに買い与えたら一時期狂ったようにやってたんだけど
あれってあくまで簡易な感じの「開発ゲーム」だから、設置できるオブジェクト？とかに限りがあるらしくて
「もっと大ボリュームのゲームを作ってみたい」「将来ゲーム作る人になりたい」みたいなこと言い出したんだよね
scratchってのがいいって聞いたけど、ちょっと調べたらなんか『はじプロ』とそんなに変わらんような気もしている
かと言ってなんかガチな開発環境みたいのを揃えても難易度高すぎて飽きたりしそうだし
そもそもガチな開発環境ってゼニかかるやん…ゼニはあんまり出せへんねん…
PCは何とかメモリ16GBのを貸してやれるけど、グラフィック処理がいいやつとかでは全然ないし、そんなガチガチな開発環境はとても揃えられん
でも子どもが目ェキラキラさしてテンションブチ上がってるの見たら、挫折に終わるとしてもできるだけやりたい放題させてやりたいじゃん…「将来の夢」とまで言い出すんなら尚更…
つーわけで、似たようなご家庭各位、『はじプロ』の次、ってどんなのやらせてます？
なんか良いのあったら教えてほしい
最近scratchというビジュアルプログラミング言語を子供達と一緒に遊ぶ機会があったのだが、そのScratchで作られたゲームをよく見てみると、マリオだったり、世に出回っているゲームのコピーのようなものであったりと、著作権的に問題ありありの内容を子どもたちが平然と遊んでいるのを見てて、うーん..と少し感じる。
Scratchは教育用としての側面が強く、学校現場でも非常によく使われているらしいのだが、その教育という面を盾にして、何でもやっても良い、著作権無法地帯みたいなことが起きていると思う。
学校現場でまず著作権から教えれば、とも思うが、著作権に対しての考えが緩い先生方に、この著作権について教えるというハードルは中々に高い。この辺りは、学校が〜、いや保護者が〜、いや外部の人が〜、とかで結局、著作権についてはたらい回しにされそう。
Scratchの明らかに著作権違反のものを楽しく遊んでいる子どもたちを見ていると、少し前の共有ソフトで違法ダウンロードしたゲームを、俺たち遊んでいるぜ‼️ヒャッハー‼️みたいな状況と少し似てなくもない。
足りなかったねん(´・ω・`)
