Dragoncaller (dragoncaller) wrote,

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May we have your liver?

Or, Why I would not be saddened in the least to hear the news that Bill Gates had slipped in the shower and broke his neck and was paralyzed from the eye brows down.

So, I'm working on my latest novel. The crashing of plastic keystrokes fill the night as my story unfolds. The Ray-O-Vac tubes of my brain are warmed up and ideas are flowing right along when suddenrificaly, and without warning, a little box pops up on the screen saying that windows needs to re-boot.

I'm working heres!

Can't you tell I'm doing stuff? Can't you wait until I'm not doing stuff? You can sense my keystrokes and mouse jiggling, how about waiting until that stuff ceases?

So I click on "Re-boot later" and try to re-align the harmonics of my 286 processor brain and try to get some much needed writing down. Just as I get up to speed again, a note pops on the screen. "How about now?"

I click on "Fuck no, Ahm buzy!" and trying to get back to work.

Almost instantly a box pops up again that whines, "But I need to re-boot". I click on "No, you don't, I'll tell you when you need to re-boot" and try to calm myself to get back to work.

"But," The computer argues, "If I don't re-boot now, I can't install the update to the programs that you never use and slow down your computer and force you to finally upgrade to a computer built in this century".

I click on "How about doing what I frelling tell you to do for a change?"

There is silence for a moment, and I try to get back to work. I have to get my hero across the battle field without him getting ripped to shreds by cannon canister shot.

"I'd really like that update now" My computer mopes.

"You were working fine before, why should I update you now?" I click on that button, my fingers mashing on the mouse with authority.

"Because I need to justify my hefty price tag." The computer replies, running a three second count down to reboot.

I quickly jump up and click on "Oh, no you don't! You can have all day to reboot when I'm done"

"But I'm ready now!" My computer pouts. "You work for me!"

"No, you work for me." I clicked on that box as strongly as I could.

Well, it's come to the point when my writing is over for the night. My brain, soft and squishy is no longer responding as it should. I'm done, computer, so you have the next 8 hours to do as you'd like.

The 21st century is disappointing, to say the least.
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