It sounds like what you are looking for is a form of an object request broker. Provide the name of a class as a string (or, if the set of desired objects is more constrained, an integer or enum or something similar) and then build an instance based on that key. Generally, all these objects typically inherit from some base class like Object so that the broker can return an Object* and the client can dynamic cast it down to the actual thing. I've used a pattern like this in the past that worked pretty well using macro magic to enable classes eligible to be instantiated through the broker (register the key and the class name with the broker). This was pre-C++03, so doubtless there are cleaner and more modern ways to implement such a thing these days.
lobsticle
Actually, these are fucking great. Super outsidery. I'd buy but want to make sure the kids get the bulk of the profits, not the teacher.
The Eric Prydz remix slaps so hard too.
This is the shit you feel when you're high
HURRY! HURRY HAAAARRRRRRRD!
My curling peeps will know what I'm talking about.
I just love this. They all legitimately look so happy.
I wonder if they're a publicly traded company. Given the choice between this company trying to compete in the marketplace against Apple versus a guaranteed revenue stream from licensing and royalty fees (and likely a lucrative one at that), I'm pretty sure I know which the shareholders would pick. If this company ends up doing the former and going under, I can just smell the shareholder lawsuit that would ensue.
This is super wholesome and I am here for it.
After School Satan Club would be such a great name for a band.
At least the NYT came up with an accurate headline this time.
I believe you can tell Niagara Airbus where to drop you off when you schedule your ride with them. My sister's used them a few times to get from her house in St. Catharines to Person or Buffalo and they picked her up at her place.
Now I have their damn jingle stick in my head. Just 1990s Niagara things...
As an old Perl jockey, you can pry my backticks out of my cold, dead hands.