Friday, July 3rd, 2015 -( 22°C / 72°F @ 11:45 am under sunny skies on our side of the river here in Atlantic Canada )- -My friend, Greg’s daughter -Kyla-‘s birfday 🙂
Domino, looks like he was complaining about something or other- In May of 2013
— Okay, let’s see. I can’t say this morning got off to a rough start because I’m still up since last night. The computer I rely on the most, the one I’m writing this on right now, is going blind on me- if I’m doing any graphic-heavy 3D stuff- the monitors suddenly go black and say “hey- we’re not connected to anything-” and since I got this computer specifically to work on completing my game world, and the game that’s supposed to happen inside that world- this is disconcerting. I better look up the spelling on that one, it doesn’t look right. Must be okay, the spell checker doesn’t like words with dashes attached to them, but ‘disconcerting’ passed their test.
— Planned obsolescence – Do you think that anybody who ever thought it was a good idea to make sure stuff fell apart more sooner than later so they could sell more stuff should be drawn and quartered in public? I mean why wait until these mudder fuppers die and have to face their karma in their life reviews? For the same reason that judges are all going to be in big trouble when they have to explain themselves to the Man who told them “Judge not- that ye be judged-” It’s not my place to condemn ice holes for making everybody’s lives miserable? -Shrug- But every once in a while I want to be there when one of those ‘persons’ is in dire need of a quick ride to a hospital and the parts he so cleverly had his engineers make out of plastic instead of aluminum the way they had always been in the past- fall apart and the ice hole has to die alone in his vehicle because his clever designs worked so freakin well? I mean the height of this revenge type thinking would be, the poster child for planned obsolescence opens the door of his planned obsolete automobile, falls to the pavement and gasps for help and some homeless guy whose life he ruined comes over to him, blind drunk, opens his zipper and pees all over the slime ball while that evil ice hole gasps his last breaths and dies in an extreme state of fear. Grumble grumble grumble —
— But- on a lighter note – I did download over 750 photos (not all of them worth keeping) onto three different computers last night while dealing with computer catastrophes. The stupid ‘We know better than you do what you want to do’- routines inside one computer decided that I wanted all 757 photos to go get lost somewhere on a cloud, and told me my drop box was full. So I swore at that computer and told it to take those photos down from the flippin cloud and put them in a nice new file on my desktop. When it – obviously scared half to death – did what I told it to, I discovered a couple lost gems in that flippin cloud, that I never wanted anything to do with in the first place. No danged cloud has any business grabbing my stuff like that. And, oh yeah, the nearly lost gems on that should be lost cloud? – the above photo of Domino the Bengal Cat was one of them. Yum.
— And now I should belatedly get my posterior to bed. I’m going to skype with mom tonight, and she’s delighted to be able to see me and hear me when I do that. And now that I got my grumbling done, I won’t have to darken our conversation tonight with angry thoughts about ice holes who so freakin cleverly design things to fall apart a long time before they need to. – I won’t say, “May they rot in hell.” Because we’re already there, so how about, “May they open their eyes and realize they’ve created a living hell for themselves right here and now.” – Shrug. I often think I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy, because I don’t collect enemies and sort them according to how rotten they are to their cores- But- Waking up in hell is a blessing that us truth-seeking ‘Angels-In-Training’ wish upon ourselves so we can continue our mission to manifest Heaven on Earth. & No, it’s not too late to keep trying to do that.
~~~~~ Jim (who tortures spelling checkers for fun, and has the poetic license to prove it can be done.)