Cold water, applied suddenly, can be inspirational. I was reminded of this Friday morning when, mid-shower and all lathered and shampooed, the gas ran out. It wasn’t a matter of jumping out of the shower, either. I had to rinse it all off first. So I wasn’t just surprised by the icy blast. I had then to deliberately submit to it.
For as long as people have had fears, we have been afraid of things falling from the sky. Palentologists of comedy tell us that this particular danger may have been discovered by a researcher named Og, a colleague of the late Thag Simmons, when a flock of prehistoric pigeons flew over on a day he was late to an important meeting, though if challenged they admit that this is surmise.
Seems to me that it is an affliction primarily of men, though I know of exceptions. It is the compulsion to take any object, machine, or device, and somehow “improve” it. I know of no man who does not suffer from this — and suffer is indeed the word — and if there is any I’m not interested in knowing him. We compulsive improvers make the world a more interesting if less efficient place.
This might explain it. Donald Trump had a dream in which he was told that reality is an illusion, that it’s all in his head, that all that exists is what he imagines. The notion would not be original to him. Nothing is, except his regard for himself.
The events of the last week have captured the news media, the commentariat, and the online amateur philosopher sites — TwitteX and suchlike. Though they are connected, I think therein lie two separate compelling stories. Here, I hope to tell both of them, separately.
When I made a list of suggested replacements for Windows on those machines which Microsoft Corporation has deemed unsuitable for Windows 11, I left one out because I hadn’t heard of it. We’ll remedy that shortly, but first a little history.
Many years ago a radio network colleague came into the newsroom one Friday night all excited. She and her well-known musician husband, confirmed city dwellers, were going to rent a car the next day and explore the countryside. On Monday, I asked how the excursion had been. Her always cheerful expression turned into a horrified scowl. “We turned around and came right back. The rats up there are three feet long!” They had seen one crossing the road at night.
Let us begin by my saying that in my estimation Microsoft Corporation is a distillation of pure, if not always competently executed, wickedness. Microsoft has distributed evil since it expanded beyond BASIC programming language interpreters (which may or may not have been evil) in 1980. It is continuing its assault with perhaps its boldest attack on its customers ever.
If one is observant he gets used to spotting things that oughtn’t be there, even if they are fairly small. I guess I’m observant, because the other night, as I sat on the dark brown couch in the dimly lit living room I noticed an inch-long mostly very dark brown insect on the couch a few inches away from me. Before I sent it to its eternal reward I looked at it, and was filled with dread.