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But It’s Such a Pretty Blue Screen of Death

My computer at home is very close to being finished. I think, in the entire process of backing up data, uploading data, installed a new Windows version, new drivers, new printers, new CD burner/reader, and a new network router, I only saw 2 or 3 blue screens of death. And all of them happened when I was trying to get my laptop to go out over the wireless connection, recognize a network printer connected to my Dell box, and print over the net. Best guess is I just have the wrong drivers. It’s kind of nice getting to see that pretty blue screen so few times, after having done so much with so little hardware (most of which is out of date.) As much as I like to knock Microsoft, and, face it, we all do, I must admit, they’ve come a long way. Actually, I think Dell is a friend indeed (not to be confused with “a friend with weed” which, I’m told, “is better” or so the song goes.)

I’ve gotten a lot done. Yesterday, I got two different email clients configured, one for home email (ahem, “spam”) and one for work. Steve was over, helping me out and, at one point, he said, “don’t you want to restore your email?” I was like, “NO. No….No! No! No! NO!” I wanted to avoid the spam-o-rama at all costs. The problem with restoration of email is that I get tons of junk. I’ve so much spam, I could bury myself in it. It’s like a black hole. The black hole of the net is covered with spam, and all of it resides in my email box. It waits to pounce on me when I’m not expecting it and, believe me, it can get mighty ugly.

All of this long-winded diatribe on the benefits of a network router, a wireless card, and broken printer drivers can be summed up with the following plea:

If you send email to my home address or use it to communicate with me on a regular basis, please be advised that I have removed all of my OLD email, including my contact information, so you may not hear from me in a while. I’m determined to enjoy having only 87 messages, 68 of which are claims that I can enlarge my penis, lose 30 pounds overnight, or make millions selling crap nobody wants on eBay.

This, of course, can be shadowed by the follow-on plea:

If I don’t contact you, or don’t respond to your email, please send me another note. I’ve recently un-buried myself from the spam heap and do want to talk with you, I’m just attempting to avoid the penis enlargement gang who, apparantly acting on a tip that mine is too small, keep following me in the hopes that I will buy and use their wonderful products.

Not that I have anything against the penis enlargement gang. Try as they might, I don’t think they’ll have much success in my case. Call it a hunch. I wish I could send them a blue screen of death for their troubles but, as luck would have it, it appears I’m even out of those.

Until next time…


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