WHO THE HECK IS PETER PYTORCH?
YOU WANNA KNOW ABOUT ME? ALRIGHT, BUCKLE UP, ‘CAUSE THIS AIN’T GONNA BE PRETTY. I’M PETER PYTORCH, DIGITAL DRIFTER, CODE COWBOY, AND PART-TIME COOKIE CONNOISSEUR. I’VE BEEN SKULKING AROUND THE INTERNET SINCE THE DAYS WHEN “404 NOT FOUND” WAS A PERSONAL CHALLENGE, NOT A DEAD END.
THE ORIGIN STORY (SORTA)
BORN IN THE DIGITAL BACKWATERS OF SOME FORGOTTEN TOWN, I GOT MY START HACKING INTO LOCAL LIBRARY COMPUTERS TO EXTEND MY BOOK BORROWING LIMITS. (YEAH, I WAS THAT KID.) BY THE TIME I HIT HIGH SCHOOL, I WAS RUNNING A BBS OUT OF MY PARENTS’ BASEMENT, TRADING PIRATED GAMES AND ARGUING ABOUT WHETHER THE MATRIX WAS A DOCUMENTARY.
THE HACKER’S JOURNEY
I’VE BEEN TO PLACES MOST PEOPLE DON’T EVEN KNOW EXIST. EVER HEARD OF THE “NULL BYTE CAFÉ”? IT’S A GREASY SPOON IN CYBERSPACE WHERE THE COFFEE TASTES LIKE REGRET AND THE WI-FI’S ENCRYPTED WITH A 256-BIT HANDSHAKE. OR HOW ABOUT THE “QUANTUM HACKATHON” IN A DERELICT SERVER FARM IN THE NEVADA DESERT? THREE DAYS, NO SLEEP, AND A SERVER RACK HELD TOGETHER WITH DUCT TAPE AND SPITE.
Welcome, brave netizen, to the depths of the digital abyss. You want to know about me? The man, the myth, the rogue pixel wrangler behind this… well, thing? Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. Once you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes back. And sometimes, it throws rogue pixels at you.
So, who am I? I’m Peter Pytorch. Or, as my babushka used to call me, Petro Petrovich. (That’s a closely guarded secret from my East European past. Don’t spread it around.) Call me Pytorch. Call me Pete. Call me late for dinner if you must—but only if it’s pizza. Or cookies. Just don’t call me a “web developer.” I’m more of a digital archaeologist. A code conjurer. A glitch whisperer.
I’ve been around the internet block more times than I care to count. I’ve got the scars to prove it. I’ve seen websites that’d make your eyes bleed. I survived the browser wars. I’ve stared into the face of pop-up hell and lived to tell the tale. I was coding in Notepad while your WYSIWYG editors were still in diapers (probably hand-coded by Microserfs).
Born in the digital backwaters of some forgotten town, I got my start hacking into local library computers to extend my book borrowing limits. (Yeah, I was that kid.) By high school, I was running a BBS out of my parents’ basement, trading pirated games (don’t tell anyone) and arguing about whether The Matrix was a documentary.
My hacking sessions were fueled by a volatile mix of Mountain Dew, caffeine, and the faint scent of ozone and oregano. (We don’t talk about the oregano. More on that later.)
I’ve forgotten more about the internet than most people will ever know. I’ve witnessed the rise and fall of empires (Netscape, anyone?). I’ve bent code to my will. And I’ve built this sanctuary—Silversurfer.buzz—to preserve the last remnants of the internet’s untamed wilds.
Because the internet deserves better.
Because you deserve better.
Before the internet was flooded with cat videos and targeted ads, it was a glorious, untamed wilderness. A place of wonder. A place of danger. A place where a man could lose himself in a sea of 0s and 1s and emerge… changed. Or at least with a killer recipe for microwave nachos.
I built Silversurfer.buzz as a refuge from the corporate-approved, cookie-cutter wasteland we call the modern web. Think of it as a living, breathing digital labyrinth. Every link here has been personally hand-curated by me—unearthed from the depths of the digital debris and polished to a mirror shine. No tracking cookies. No clickbait. Just pure, unadulterated internet gold.
Here, you’ll find:
This is my gift to you, dear surfer. A map for the lost. A light in the digital void.
A
ABOUT PYTORCH (THAT’S ME!)
So, you want to know about the digital derelict behind this… well, this thing? Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. Once you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes back. And sometimes, it throws rogue pixels at you.
I’m Peter Pytorch. Or, as my babushka used to call me, Petro Petrovich. (Don’t tell anyone. It’s a closely guarded secret from my East European past.) Call me Pytorch. Call me Pete. Call me late for dinner (especially if it’s pizza. Or cookies). Just don’t call me a web developer. I’m more of a… digital archaeologist. A code conjurer. A… well, let’s just say I’ve been around the internet block a few times. And I’ve got the scars to prove it. I’ve seen things, man. Things you wouldn’t believe. I’ve seen websites that’d make your eyes bleed. I survived the browser wars. I’ve stared into the face of pop-up hell. I was coding in notepad when your fancy WYSIWYG editors were still in diapers, probably made by Microserfs. Born in the digital backwaters of some forgotten town, I got my start hacking into local library computers to extend my book borrowing limits. (Yeah, I was that kid.) By the time I hit high school, I was running a BBS out of my parents’ basement, trading pirated games and arguing about whether The Matrix was a documentary. My hacking sessions are fueled by a volatile mixture of caffeine and sugar. Mostly Mountain Dew, with an ever-present faint scent of oregano and ozone.
I built this digital sanctuary, silversurfer.buzz, as a refuge from the corporate-approved, cookie-cutter wasteland that the internet has become. It’s a meticulously hand-curated collection of the weird, wonderful, and genuinely useful corners of the web, with a focus on AI, Software & Code, and Education. Every link and resource has been personally vetted and selected. Here, you won’t find any tracking cookies (Unless I put them there. Just kidding… unless…?). Everything you find here is 100% original in its selection and presentation, unearthed from the depths of the digital debris and presented for your perusal.
WHY AM I DOING THIS?
Because the internet deserves better. Because you deserve better. Before the internet was filled with cat videos and targeted ads, it was a glorious, untamed wilderness. A place of wonder. A place of danger. A place where a man could lose himself in a sea of 0s and 1s and emerge… changed. Or at least with a killer recipe for microwave nachos. The internet was a lawless, ungoverned land. The internet was better.
I’m here to remind you of that. To bring back a little bit of that old-school magic. To show you that the internet can still be a place of discovery, a place of weirdness, a place of… well, you’ll see. The weirdest, most wonderful treasures I’ve gathered are ready for you to explore.
WHAT CAN YOU EXPECT FROM ME?
WHAT DO I EXPECT FROM YOU?
MY CREDENTIALS?
I’ve got more certifications than a squirrel has nuts. But trust me, you won’t find them on LinkedIn. (They banned me. Something about violating their terms of service by exposing the truth about the Y2K bug. It was real, sheeple! Wake up!) My qualifications are as follows:
SO, DIVE IN, SURFER
Explore the depths of silversurfer.buzz. Lose yourself in the digital debris. But be warned: once you enter, there’s no telling what you might find. Or what might find you. And keep the cookies coming. The machines are always hungry… and so am I. 🍪
P.S. If you happen to know the whereabouts of any vintage Pogs, hit me up. My collection is… incomplete. And it keeps me up at night.
P.P.S. Don’t touch anything in the server room. Seriously. I mean it. Especially the blinking red button. We do not speak of the red button. Also, I am not responsible for any encounters with rogue AI. Or any sudden urges to grow oregano.
P.P.P.S. If you mention dried herbs, especially oregano, I become inexplicably agitated. It’s best not to ask. Trust me, you don’t want to open that can of worms. Or should I say, that jar of herbs? Just don’t go there, okay? I’ve got my reasons, and they’re not for the faint of heart. Let’s just say that some mysteries are best left unsolved, and some questions are better left unasked. Especially when it comes to my relationship with certain aromatic plants. Capiche? Move along, nothing to see here. These aren’t the herbs you’re looking for. I’ve said too much already. If anyone asks, this conversation never happened. And if you find any oregano lying around, it’s not mine. I’m just holding it for a friend. A friend named… uh… not me. Yeah, that’s it. Not me.
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Welcome, brave netizen, to the depths of the digital abyss. You want to know about me? The man, the myth, the rogue pixel wrangler behind this… well, thing? Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. Once you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes back. And sometimes, it throws rogue pixels at you.
So, who am I? I’m Peter Pytorch. Or, as my babushka used to call me, Petro Petrovich. (That’s a closely guarded secret from my East European past. Don’t spread it around.) Call me Pytorch. Call me Pete. Call me late for dinner if you must—but only if it’s pizza. Or cookies. Just don’t call me a “web developer.” I’m more of a digital archaeologist. A code conjurer. A glitch whisperer.
I’ve been around the internet block more times than I care to count. I’ve got the scars to prove it. I’ve seen websites that’d make your eyes bleed. I survived the browser wars. I’ve stared into the face of pop-up hell and lived to tell the tale. I was coding in Notepad while your WYSIWYG editors were still in diapers (probably hand-coded by Microserfs).
Born in the digital backwaters of some forgotten town, I got my start hacking into local library computers to extend my book borrowing limits. (Yeah, I was that kid.) By high school, I was running a BBS out of my parents’ basement, trading pirated games (don’t tell anyone) and arguing about whether The Matrix was a documentary.
My hacking sessions were fueled by a volatile mix of Mountain Dew, caffeine, and the faint scent of ozone and oregano. (We don’t talk about the oregano. More on that later.)
I’ve forgotten more about the internet than most people will ever know. I’ve witnessed the rise and fall of empires (Netscape, anyone?). I’ve bent code to my will. And I’ve built this sanctuary—Silversurfer.buzz—to preserve the last remnants of the internet’s untamed wilds.
Because the internet deserves better.
Because you deserve better.
Before the internet was flooded with cat videos and targeted ads, it was a glorious, untamed wilderness. A place of wonder. A place of danger. A place where a man could lose himself in a sea of 0s and 1s and emerge… changed. Or at least with a killer recipe for microwave nachos.
I built Silversurfer.buzz as a refuge from the corporate-approved, cookie-cutter wasteland we call the modern web. Think of it as a living, breathing digital labyrinth. Every link here has been personally hand-curated by me—unearthed from the depths of the digital debris and polished to a mirror shine. No tracking cookies. No clickbait. Just pure, unadulterated internet gold.
Here, you’ll find:
This is my gift to you, dear surfer. A map for the lost. A light in the digital void.
You won’t find me on LinkedIn (they banned me for “violating their terms of service” by exposing the truth about the Y2K bug). But trust me, I know what I’m doing. My qualifications include:
Let me make one thing clear: I have no relationship with oregano. None. Zero. Nada. If you find any oregano lying around, it’s not mine. I’m just holding it for a friend. A friend named… uh… Not Me. Don’t ask. Trust me, you don’t want to open that jar of herbs. Capiche? Move along. These aren’t the herbs you’re looking for.
So, what are you waiting for? Dive into Silversurfer.buzz. Explore the depths of the digital labyrinth. Lose yourself in the weirdest, wildest corners of the web. But remember: once you enter, there’s no telling what you might find. Or what might find you.
And if you find any vintage Pogs… hit me up. My collection is incomplete, and it keeps me up at night.
P.S. Don’t touch anything in the server room. Especially the blinking red button. We do not speak of the red button.
P.P.S. Bring cookies. The machines are always hungry. 
WELCOME TO THE DIGITAL WILDERNESS.
Explore. Discover. And bring cookies.
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