part so ptee does duty for the holos we soon grow to use of an
allforabit. Here (please to stoop) are selveran cued peteet peas of
quite a pecuniar interest inaslittle as they are the pellets that make
the tomtummy's pay roll. Right rank ragnar rocks and with these
rox orangotangos rangled rough and rightgorong. Wisha, wisha,
whydidtha? Thik is for thorn that's thuck in its thoil like thum-
fool's thraitor thrust for vengeance. What a mnice old mness it
all mnakes! A middenhide hoard of objects! Olives, beets, kim-
mells, dollies, alfrids, beatties, cormacks and daltons. Owlets' eegs
(O stoop to please!) are here, creakish from age and all now
quite epsilene, and oldwolldy wobblewers, haudworth a wipe o
grass. Sss! See the snake wurrums everyside! Our durlbin is
sworming in sneaks. They came to our island from triangular
Toucheaterre beyond the wet prairie rared up in the midst of the
cargon of prohibitive pomefructs but along landed Paddy Wip-
pingham and the his garbagecans cotched the creeps of them
pricker than our whosethere outofman could quick up her whats-
thats. Somedivide and sumthelot but the tally turns round the
same balifuson. Racketeers and bottloggers.
    Axe on thwacks on thracks, axenwise. One by one place one
be three dittoh and one before. Two nursus one make a plaus-
ible free and idim behind. Starting off with a big boaboa and three-
legged calvers and ivargraine jadesses with a message in their
mouths. And a hundreadfilled unleavenweight of liberorumqueue
to con an we can till allhorrors eve. What a meanderthalltale to
unfurl and with what an end in view of squattor and anntisquattor
and postproneauntisquattor! To say too us to be every tim, nick
and larry of us, sons of the sod, sons, littlesons, yea and lealittle-
sons, when usses not to be, every sue, siss and sally of us, dugters
of Nan! Accusative ahnsire! Damadam to infinities!
    True there was in nillohs dieybos as yet no lumpend papeer
in the waste, and mightmountain Penn still groaned for the micies
to let flee. All was of ancientry. You gave me a boot (signs on
it!) and I ate the wind. I quizzed you a quid (with for what?) and
you went to the quod. But the world, mind, is, was and will be
writing its own wrunes for ever, man, on all matters that fall 

 Jute.       'Zmorde!
    Mutt.      Meldundleize! By the fearse wave behoughted. Des-
                  pond's sung. And thanacestross mound have swollup 
                  them all. This ourth of years is not save brickdust 
                  and being humus the same roturns. He who runes 
                  may rede it on all fours. O'c'stle, n'wc'stle, tr'c'stle,
                  crumbling! Sell me sooth the fare for Humblin! Hum-
                  blady Fair. But speak it allsosiftly, moulder! Be in
                  your whisht!
    Jute.       Whysht?
    Mutt.      The gyant Forficules with Amni the fay.
    Jute.       Howe?
    Mutt.      Here is viceking's graab.
    Jute.       Hwaad!
    Mutt.      Ore you astoneaged, jute you?
    Jute.       Oye am thonthorstrok, thing mud.
    (Stoop) if you are abcedminded, to this claybook, what curios 
of signs (please stoop), in this allaphbed! Can you rede (since
We and Thou had it out already) its world? It is the same told
of all. Many. Miscegenations on miscegenations. Tieckle. They
lived und laughed ant loved end left. Forsin. Thy thingdome is
given to the Meades and Porsons. The meandertale, aloss and
again, of our old Heidenburgh in the days when Head-in-Clouds
walked the earth. In the ignorance that implies impression that
knits knowledge that finds the nameform that whets the wits that
convey contacts that sweeten sensation that drives desire that
adheres to attachment that dogs death that bitches birth that en-
tails the ensuance of existentiality. But with a rush out of his
navel reaching the reredos of Ramasbatham. A terricolous vively-
onview this; queer and it continues to be quaky. A hatch, a celt,
an earshare the pourquose of which was to cassay the earthcrust at
all of hours, furrowards, bagawards, like yoxen at the turnpaht.
Here say figurines billycoose arming and mounting. Mounting and
arming bellicose figurines see here. Futhorc, this liffle effingee is for
a firefing called a flintforfall. Face at the eased! O I fay! Face at the
waist! Ho, you fie! Upwap and dump em, ace to ace! When 

  where the liveries, Monomark. There where the mis-
                  sers moony, Minnikin passe.
    Jute.       Simply because as Taciturn pretells, our wrongstory-
                  shortener, he dumptied the wholeborrow of rubba-
                  ges on to soil here.
    Mutt.      Just how a puddinstone inat the brookcells by a
                  riverpool.
    Jute.       Load Allmarshy! Wid wad for a norse like?
    Mutt.      Somular with a bull on a clompturf. Rooks roarum
                  rex roome! I could snore to him of the spumy horn,
                  with his woolseley side in, by the neck I am sutton
                  on, did Brian d' of Linn.
    Jute.       Boildoyle and rawhoney on me when I can beuraly
                  forsstand a weird from sturk to finnic in such a pat-
                  what as your rutterdamrotter. Onheard of and um-
                  scene! Gut aftermeal! See you doomed.
    Mutt.      Quite agreem. Bussave a sec. Walk a dunblink 
                  roundward this albutisle and you skull see how olde 
                  ye plaine of my Elters, hunfree and ours, where wone 
                  to wail whimbrel to peewee o'er the saltings, where
                  wilby citie by law of isthmon, where by a droit of
                  signory, icefloe was from his Inn the Byggning to
                  whose Finishthere Punct. Let erehim ruhmuhrmuhr.
                  Mearmerge two races, swete and brack. Morthering 
                  rue. Hither, craching eastuards, they are in surgence:
                  hence, cool at ebb, they requiesce. Countlessness of
                  livestories have netherfallen by this plage, flick as
                  flowflakes, litters from aloft, like a waast wizzard all of 
                  whirlworlds. Now are all tombed to the mound, isges 
                  to isges, erde from erde. Pride, O pride, thy prize!
    Jute.       'Stench!
    Mutt.      Fiatfuit! Hereinunder lyethey. Llarge by the smal an'
                  everynight life olso th'estrange, babylone the great-
                  grandhotelled with tit tit tittlehouse, alp on earwig,
                  drukn on ild, likeas equal to anequal in this sound
                  seemetery which iz leebez luv.

froriose. What a quhare soort of a mahan. It is evident the mich-
indaddy. Lets we overstep his fire defences and these kraals of
slitsucked marrogbones. (Cave!) He can prapsposterus the pil-
lory way to Hirculos pillar. Come on, fool porterfull, hosiered
women blown monk sewer? Scuse us, chorley guy! You toller-
day donsk? N. You tolkatiff scowegian? Nn. You spigotty an-
glease? Nnn. You phonio saxo? Nnnn. Clear all so! 'Tis a Jute.
Let us swop hats and excheck a few strong verbs weak oach ea-
ther yapyazzard abast the blooty creeks.
    Jute.       Yutah!
    Mutt.      Mukk's pleasurad.
    Jute.       Are you jeff?
    Mutt.      Somehards.
    Jute.       But you are not jeffmute?
    Mutt.      Noho. Only an utterer.
    Jute.       Whoa? Whoat is the mutter with you?
    Mutt.      I became a stun a stummer.
    Jute.       What a hauhauhauhaudibble thing, to be cause! How,
                  Mutt?
    Mutt.      Aput the buttle, surd.
    Jute.       Whose poddle? Wherein?
    Mutt.      The Inns of Dungtarf where Used awe to be he.
    Jute.       You that side your voise are almost inedible to me.
                  Become a bitskin more wiseable, as if I were
                  you.
    Mutt.      Has? Has at? Hasatency? Urp, Boohooru! Booru
                  Usurp! I trumple from rath in mine mines when I
                  rimimirim!
    Jute.       One eyegonblack. Bisons is bisons. Let me fore all
                  your hasitancy cross your qualm with trink gilt. Here
                  have sylvan coyne, a piece of oak. Ghinees hies good
                  for you.
    Mutt.      Louee, louee! How wooden I not know it, the intel-
                  lible greytcloak of Cedric Silkyshag! Cead mealy 
                  faulty rices for one dabblin bar. Old grilsy growlsy!
                  He was poached on in that eggtentical spot. Here 

I've been pondering the way language works as an attribute in community.

Right now there are two attributes to highlight: NSFW and "only moderators can post".

There is an active pull request to add "only the home instance can allow posting", sort of a variation on the "only moderators" can post: https://github.com/LemmyNet/lemmy/pull/3889

Which is the 20 source file changes for the new feature.

I envision that new attributes will keep coming up, and I see need for an additonal one to make cleaner the [email protected] feature.

Observation

A general 'attributes' table could be created like the existing language table. And then duplicate the logic in Community Edit for picking the languages associated with a community... except you are picking the attributes associated with a community.

This could possibly cut down on the amount of lemmy_server code changes for each new attribute?

I envision in the future there will be 'members only can post' (subscribed only), and variations of NSFW that people want to implement... and it could be done by not having to add new PostgreSQL columns to tables... and just a general scheme to insert a new registered attribute ID...

the duskrose has choosed out Goatstown's hedges, twolips have
pressed togatherthem by sweet Rush, townland of twinedlights,
the whitethorn and the redthorn have fairygeyed the mayvalleys
of Knockmaroon, and, though for rings round them, during a
chiliad of perihelygangs, the Formoreans have brittled the too-
ath of the Danes and the Oxman has been pestered by the Fire-
bugs and the Joynts have thrown up jerrybuilding to the Kevan-
ses and Little on the Green is childsfather to the City (Year!
Year! And laughtears!), these paxsealing buttonholes have quad-
rilled across the centuries and whiff now whafft to us, fresh and
made-of-all-smiles as, on the eve of Killallwho.
    The babbelers with their thangas vain have been (confusium
hold them!) they were and went; thigging thugs were and hou-
hnhymn songtoms were and comely norgels were and pollyfool
fiansees. Menn have thawed, clerks have surssurhummed, the
blond has sought of the brune: Elsekiss thou may, mean Kerry
piggy?: and the duncledames have countered with the hellish fel-
lows: Who ails tongue coddeau, aspace of dumbillsilly? And they
fell upong one another: and themselves they have fallen. And
still nowanights and by nights of yore do all bold floras of the
field to their shyfaun lovers say only: Cull me ere I wilt to thee!:
and, but a little later: Pluck me whilst I blush! Well may they
wilt, marry, and profusedly blush, be troth! For that saying is as
old as the howitts. Lave a whale a while in a whillbarrow (isn't
it the truath I'm tallin ye?) to have fins and flippers that shimmy
and shake. Tim Timmycan timped hir, tampting Tam. Fleppety!
Flippety! Fleapow!
    Hop!
    In the name of Anem this carl on the kopje in pelted thongs a
parth a lone who the joebiggar be he? Forshapen his pigmaid
hoagshead, shroonk his plodsfoot. He hath locktoes, this short-
shins, and, Obeold that's pectoral, his mammamuscles most
mousterious. It is slaking nuncheon out of some thing's brain
pan. Me seemeth a dragon man. He is almonthst on the kiep
fief by here, is Comestipple Sacksoun, be it junipery or febrew-
ery, marracks or alebrill or the ramping riots of pouriose and 

When reading news, I want to know which website goes with the headline... just seeing a link to archive.org doesn't give that information. Cross-posting should be based on source URL, not the various archive sites hosting copies.

hadde a wickered Kish for to hale dead turves from the bog look-
it under the blay of her Kish as she ran for to sothisfeige her cow-
rieosity and be me sawl but she found hersell sackvulle of swart
goody quickenshoon and small illigant brogues, so rich in sweat.
Blurry works at Hurdlesford.
                                             (Silent.)
    566 A.D. At this time it fell out that a brazenlockt damsel grieved 
(sobralasolas!) because that Puppette her minion was ravisht of her
by the ogre Puropeus Pious. Bloody wars in Ballyaughacleeagh-
bally.
    1132. A.D. Two sons at an hour were born until a goodman 
and his hag. These sons called themselves Caddy and Primas.
Primas was a santryman and drilled all decent people. Caddy
went to Winehouse and wrote o peace a farce. Blotty words for
Dublin.
    Somewhere, parently, in the ginnandgo gap between antedilu-
vious and annadominant the copyist must have fled with his
scroll. The billy flood rose or an elk charged him or the sultrup
worldwright from the excelsissimost empyrean (bolt, in sum)
earthspake or the Dannamen gallous banged pan the bliddy du-
ran. A scribicide then and there is led off under old's code with
some fine covered by six marks or ninepins in metalmen for the
sake of his labour's dross while it will be only now and again in
our rear of o'er era, as an upshoot of military and civil engage-
ments, that a gynecure was let on to the scuffold for taking that
same fine sum covertly by meddlement with the drawers of his
neighbour's safe.
    Now after all that farfatch'd and peragrine or dingnant or clere 
lift we our ears, eyes of the darkness, from the tome of Liber Li-
vidus and, (toh!), how paisibly eirenical, all dimmering dunes
and gloamering glades, selfstretches afore us our fredeland's plain!
Lean neath stone pine the pastor lies with his crook; young pric-
ket by pricket's sister nibbleth on returned viridities; amaid her
rocking grasses the herb trinity shams lowliness; skyup is of ever-
grey. Thus, too, for donkey's years. Since the bouts of Hebear
and Hairyman the cornflowers have been staying at Ballymun, 

sound of Irish sense. Really? Here English might be seen.
Royally? One sovereign punned to petery pence. Regally? The
silence speaks the scene. Fake!
    So This Is Dyoublong?
    Hush! Caution! Echoland!
    How charmingly exquisite! It reminds you of the outwashed 
engravure that we used to be blurring on the blotchwall of his
innkempt house. Used they? (I am sure that tiring chabelshovel-
ler with the mujikal chocolat box, Miry Mitchel, is listening) I
say, the remains of the outworn gravemure where used to be
blurried the Ptollmens of the Incabus. Used we? (He is only pre-
tendant to be stugging at the jubalee harp from a second existed
lishener, Fiery Farrelly.) It is well known. Lokk for himself and
see the old butte new. Dbln. W. K. O. O. Hear? By the mauso-
lime wall. Fimfim fimfim. With a grand funferall. Fumfum fum-
fum. 'Tis optophone which ontophanes. List! Wheatstone's
magic lyer. They will be tuggling foriver. They will be lichening
for allof. They will be pretumbling forover. The harpsdischord
shall be theirs for ollaves.
    Four things therefore, saith our herodotary Mammon Lujius 
in his grand old historiorum, wrote near Boriorum, bluest book
in baile's annals, f. t. in Dyffinarsky ne'er sall fail til heathersmoke
and cloudweed Eire's ile sall pall. And here now they are, the fear
of um. T. Totities! Unum. (Adar.) A bulbenboss surmounted up-
on an alderman. Ay, ay! Duum. (Nizam.) A shoe on a puir old
wobban. Ah, ho! Triom. (Tamuz.) An auburn mayde, o'brine
a'bride, to be desarted. Adear, adear! Quodlibus. (Marchessvan.) A
penn no weightier nor a polepost. And so. And all. (Succoth.)
    So, how idlers' wind turning pages on pages, as innocens with
anaclete play popeye antipop, the leaves of the living in the boke
of the deeds, annals of themselves timing the cycles of events
grand and national, bring fassilwise to pass how.
    1132 A.D. Men like to ants or emmets wondern upon a groot 
hwide Whallfisk which lay in a Runnel. Blubby wares upat Ub-
lanium.
    566 A.D. On Baalfire's night of this year after deluge a crone that 

for in the byways of high improvidence that's what makes life-
work leaving and the world's a cell for citters to cit in. Let young
wimman run away with the story and let young min talk smooth
behind the butteler's back. She knows her knight's duty while
Luntum sleeps. Did ye save any tin? says he. Did I what? with
a grin says she. And we all like a marriedann because she is mer-
cenary. Though the length of the land lies under liquidation
(floote!) and there's nare a hairbrow nor an eyebush on this glau-
brous phace of Herrschuft Whatarwelter she'll loan a vesta and
hire some peat and sarch the shores her cockles to heat and she'll
do all a turfwoman can to piff the business on. Paff. To puff the
blaziness on. Poffpoff. And even if Humpty shell fall frumpty
times as awkward again in the beardsboosoloom of all our grand
remonstrancers there'll be iggs for the brekkers come to mourn-
him, sunny side up with care. So true is it that therewhere's a
turnover the tay is wet too and when you think you ketch sight
of a hind make sure but you're cocked by a hin.
    Then as she is on her behaviourite job of quainance bandy,
fruting for firstlings and taking her tithe, we may take our review
of the two mounds to see nothing of the himples here as at else-
where, by sixes and sevens, like so many heegills and collines,
sitton aroont, scentbreeched ant somepotreek, in their swisha-
wish satins and their taffetaffe tights, playing Wharton's Folly,
at a treepurty on the planko in the purk. Stand up, mickos!
Make strake for minnas! By order, Nicholas Proud. We may see
and hear nothing if we choose of the shortlegged bergins off
Corkhill or the bergamoors of Arbourhill or the bergagambols
of Summerhill or the bergincellies of Miseryhill or the country-
bossed bergones of Constitutionhill though every crowd has its
several tones and every trade has its clever mechanics and each
harmonical has a point of its own, Olaf's on the rise and Ivor's
on the lift and Sitric's place's between them. But all they are all
there scraping along to sneeze out a likelihood that will solve
and salve life's robulous rebus, hopping round his middle like
kippers on a griddle, O, as he lays dormont from the macroborg
of Holdhard to the microbirg of Pied de Poudre. Behove this 

The three of crows have flapped it southenly, kraaking of de
baccle to the kvarters of that sky whence triboos answer; Wail,
'tis well! She niver comes out when Thon's on shower or when
Thon's flash with his Nixy girls or when Thon's blowing toom-
cracks down the gaels of Thon. No nubo no! Neblas on you liv!
Her would be too moochy afreet. Of Burymeleg and Bindme-
rollingeyes and all the deed in the woe. Fe fo fom! She jist does
hopes till byes will be byes. Here, and it goes on to appear now,
she comes, a peacefugle, a parody's bird, a peri potmother,
a pringlpik in the ilandiskippy, with peewee and powwows
in beggybaggy on her bickybacky and a flick flask fleckflinging
its pixylighting pacts' huemeramybows, picking here, pecking
there, pussypussy plunderpussy. But it's the armitides toonigh,
militopucos, and toomourn we wish for a muddy kissmans to the
minutia workers and there's to be a gorgeups truce for happinest
childher everwere. Come nebo me and suso sing the day we
sallybright. She's burrowed the coacher's headlight the better to
pry (who goes cute goes siocur and shoos aroun) and all spoiled
goods go into her nabsack: curtrages and rattlin buttins, nappy
spattees and flasks of all nations, clavicures and scampulars, maps,
keys and woodpiles of haypennies and moonled brooches with
bloodstaned breeks in em, boaston nightgarters and masses of
shoesets and nickelly nacks and foder allmicheal and a lugly parson
of cates and howitzer muchears and midgers and maggets, ills and
ells with loffs of toffs and pleures of bells and the last sigh that
come fro the hart (bucklied!) and the fairest sin the sunsaw
(that's cearc!). With Kiss. Kiss Criss. Cross Criss. Kiss Cross.
Undo lives 'end. Slain.
    How bootifull and how truetowife of her, when strengly fore-
bidden, to steal our historic presents from the past postpropheti-
cals so as to will make us all lordyheirs and ladymaidesses of a
pretty nice kettle of fruit. She is livving in our midst of debt and
laffing through all plores for us (her birth is uncontrollable), with
a naperon for her mask and her sabboes kickin arias (so sair! so
solly!) if yous ask me and I saack you. Hou! Hou! Gricks may
rise and Troysirs fall (there being two sights for ever a picture) 

of the lipoleums, Toffeethief, that spy on the Willingdone from
his big white harse, the Capeinhope. Stonewall Willingdone
is an old maxy montrumeny. Lipoleums is nice hung bushel-
lors. This is hiena hinnessy laughing alout at the Willing-
done. This is lipsyg dooley krieging the funk from the hinnessy.
This is the hinndoo Shimar Shin between the dooley boy and the
hinnessy. Tip. This is the wixy old Willingdone picket up the
half of the threefoiled hat of lipoleums fromoud of the bluddle
filth. This is the hinndoo waxing ranjymad for a bombshoob.
This is the Willingdone hanking the half of the hat of lipoleums
up the tail on the buckside of his big white harse. Tip. That was
the last joke of Willingdone. Hit, hit, hit! This is the same white
harse of the Willingdone, Culpenhelp, waggling his tailoscrupp
with the half of a hat of lipoleums to insoult on the hinndoo see-
boy. Hney, hney, hney! (Bullsrag! Foul!) This is the seeboy,
madrashattaras, upjump and pumpim, cry to the Willingdone:
Ap Pukkaru! Pukka Yurap! This is the Willingdone, bornstable
ghentleman, tinders his maxbotch to the cursigan Shimar Shin.
Basucker youstead! This is the dooforhim seeboy blow the whole
of the half of the hat of lipoleums off of the top of the tail on the
back of his big wide harse. Tip (Bullseye! Game!) How Copen-
hagen ended. This way the museyroom. Mind your boots goan
out.
    Phew!
    What a warm time we were in there but how keling is here the
airabouts! We nowhere she lives but you mussna tell annaone for
the lamp of Jig-a-Lanthern! It's a candlelittle houthse of a month
and one windies. Downadown, High Downadown. And num-
mered quaintlymine. And such reasonable weather too! The wa-
grant wind's awalt'zaround the piltdowns and on every blasted
knollyrock (if you can spot fifty I spy four more) there's that
gnarlybird ygathering, a runalittle, doalittle, preealittle, pouralittle,
wipealittle, kicksalittle, severalittle, eatalittle, whinealittle, kenalittle,
helfalittle, pelfalittle gnarlybird. A verytableland of bleakbardfields!
Under his seven wrothschields lies one, Lumproar. His glav toside
him. Skud ontorsed. Our pigeons pair are flewn for northcliffs.