It's sometimes clever to run
compromise
in a
webworker
.
This way you can keep the synchronous operations off the main-thread,
and run multiple tasks (potentially) in parallel.
Now this is a story all about how my life got flipped-turned upside down. and I'd like to take a minute, just sit right there, I'll tell you how I became the prince of a town called Bel-Air. In west Philadelphia born and raised, on the playground was where I spent most of my days. Chillin' out maxin' relaxin' all cool, and all shooting some b-ball outside of the school. When a couple of guys who were up to no good started making trouble in my neighborhood, I got in one little fight and my mom got scared, she said, "You're movin' with your auntie and uncle in Bel-Air". I begged and pleaded with her day after day but she packed my suitcase and sent me on my way. She gave me a kiss and then she gave me my ticket. I put my Walkman on and said, "I might as well kick it". First class, yo, this is bad. Drinking orange juice out of a champagne glass. Is this what the people of Bel-Air living like? Hmm, this might be alright. But wait I hear they're prissy, bourgeois, all that. Is this the type of place that they just send this cool cat? I don't think so, I'll see when I get there. I hope they're prepared for the prince of Bel-Air. Well, the plane landed and when I came out. There was a dude who looked like a cop standing there with my name out. I ain't trying to get arrested yet, I just got here. I sprang with the quickness like lightning, disappeared. I whistled for a cab and when it came near. The license plate said "Fresh" and it had dice in the mirror. If anything I could say that this cab was rare, but I thought, "Nah, forget it" – "Yo, home to Bel-Air"! I pulled up to the house about 7 or 8 and I yelled to the cabbie, "Yo home smell ya later". I looked at my kingdom, I was finally there. To sit on my throne as the Prince of Bel-Air.
worker output: