You are STILL not getting a regular blog post. I'm going slowly, carefully and taking a lot of rest breaks so I don't pull out what's left of my hair.
It is times like these that I desperately crave cigarettes. To Nancy Wick who suggested yesterday that in place of tobacco, I might toke a little weed - nice thought, Nancy, but I really do want to finish this chore in a reasonable length of time.
Moving right along, today, I will regale you with my first-ever tech troubles story.
It took place back in the mid-1980s when personal computers were relatively new to the general public. I was sort of familiar with them from work (actually, only at the network video library for searching footage; we still used typewriters at our desks) and a few tech-savvy friends.
It cost a frightening $1500 and if you recall, in those days they looked something like this:
The machine was delivered with all its parts: tower, keyboard, mouse and gigantic monitor. I unpacked it onto the dining room table along with the two-inch thick user manual. Remember, the book was for DOS then – no graphical interface as Windows hadn't arrived just yet, though it soon would.
Not to mention, this is important to the story, that the manual was written by and for techies. Not of word of it made sense to me.
The parts sat there on the table for a few days. The manual (that might as well have been written in Swahili) scared the crap out of me. At last, I decided to tackle it.
And here is what the mostly obtuse computer manufacturing industry did right and did right from the beginning: each plug was a different shape so that there was no way I could mistake which cable fit where. No manual needed.
So I easily got the monitor plugged into the computer, the keyboard and mouse into the computer, the computer into the wall. Then I pressed the “on” button.
Remember, if you had a pre-graphical interface computer, that there were just words on a black screen – usually orange or green. Mine happened to be orange. And right in the middle of the screen, it said:
FATAL DISC ERROR
I thought I had “fatally” broken the computer. I quickly turned it off (who knows, it might explode) and wondered if I could get back my $1500.
And so it sat until a technician could make time to come to my house a few days later to make things right.
Okay, I admit it: way too long a story for such a lame punch line so as a reward, here's some cool news.
Yesterday, Jon Stewart's replacement for The Daily Show was announced. He is Trevor Noah, the show's newest correspondent with just three appearances under his belt.
”Noah, who is 31, brings an unusual background to the job: He's from South Africa, the son of a black woman and a white man, speaks six languages, and may be better known overseas than he is in the United States.” reports The Atlantic.
“(To give The New York Times a comment about his appointment, he had to call from a tour stop in Dubai, where he relayed his reaction: 'You need a stiff drink, and then unfortunately you’re in a place where you can’t really get alcohol.')”
You can read more at The Atlantic and undoubtedly, all over the web.
At The Elder Storytelling Place today, Claire Jean: Supermarket Self-Check