Head Rambles

Grandad June 28th, 2009

Well, I wrote on Friday how my laptop was complaining of ill health….

It is very sick indeed.

In fact it has pretty much seen the white light at the end of the tunnel, though there is still a faint heartbeat. There is word of a heart transplant in the coming week but just in case, I’m currently removing everything off the hard drive before the funeral.

I am having to resort to a clapped out old machine that I thought was an air-conditioner, but turns out to be a PC. It’s in the junk room, and there is nowhere to sit so I won’t be doing much typing here.

I thought of asking Herself for a loan of hers, but after an attempt at baseball-bat-persuasion she has locked herself and her laptop in the bedroom.

So every cloud does have a silver lining?

One way or another, I am sans e-mail or even a decent browser, so I don’t think I’ll be in touch much.

• Blogging , computers
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Grandad June 27th, 2009

If you lot think I am going to sit around messing with computers on a lovely day like today, you can think again.

This is a day for the Great Outdoors.

Maybe a game of golf?

I just don’t feel like dishing out the shit today.

• Around the garden , Rambles
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Grandad June 26th, 2009

There sometimes is an occasion in the tides of man when only one word will suffice to sum up a situation.

Last night, that occasion occurred.

“Fuck” I roared, as a message came up un my screen telling me that my hard disk was about to fail.

Sandy ran for cover; Herself muttered something uncomplimentary and Minnie actually stopped eating for a moment.

I did a backup of everything and then ran a check on the disk.

Fucking thing packed up.

This morning I ran some more tests.  Everything seemed to be OK, so I started on a wee project I had been asked to do for one of the newspapers.

The fucking computer crashed with a grinding noise.

I’m flying on one engine at the moment.  I have a feeling this machine is about to expire.  One of several futures awaits me.

Maybe it is sorry for scaring me and will carry on working normally, in which case the world can breathe a sigh of relief.

I am about to run some software on it, and that could mean a rebuild, in which case the world will have to survive without Grandad for a few days.

Or it could blow up.

This could be the last post?

Is Grandad about to expire?

• computers
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Grandad June 25th, 2009

One of the most irritating things to appear on this Interweb is Twitter.

For the life of me, I cannot understand it.

You send text messages and are confined to 140 letters, and that includes spaces.  People then answer you when you aren’t looking and you have to try to work out what the fuck their answer means.

I mean to say, I have had erudite replies such as “Not long now, there’s always sacks full of them going by in the river beside me. It’s a pussy buffet”, or “*boom tish*”.  Now unless I have a damned good memory [which I haven’t] how the hell do I know what they are on about?

Another irritating thing about it is that I use a thing called Tweetdeck.  Now that is grand because I can bury it under a load of other programmes but the fucking thing keep popping up an irritating little thing in the corner of my screen, telling me that some prat has said something that is so fucking boring that it would make the phone book look interesting.  And if I switch it off, how am I suppose to know if someone has sent me a message?

And then there are the names!  God give me strength!!

Tweeting ?

Twittering  ??

Retweet  ???

Jayzus!!!

Of course everything that everyone says is intensely boring.  Do I want to know they are on the bus?  Do I want to know their coffee is growing cold?

I have two principles -

1. If I have something to say, make it interesting.
2. Don’t say anything.

See?  It’s simple.

And if anyone wants to watch me sating nothing, I have even added a button.

• Internet
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Grandad June 24th, 2009

When I took on this web hosting business, I thought it would be simple enough.

All I had to do was give people their little space on the Interweb and I could then sit back and rake in the readies.

Not so.

All those cretins that I euphemistically call ‘clients’ keep phoning me with their problems.

I usually hang up on the ones who are blaming me for their hard disk crashing or for the fact that their dog now has rabies, but one or two manage to sneak through my defences.

A hell of a lot of them seem to have problems with e-mails.

Why the fuck can’t they write a letter like the rest of us?

They phone me and complain that they can’t send e-mails or they can’t receive e-mails.  They complain that their mailbox is full, or that they are getting spam.

The ones who are getting spam give me a laugh.  Who doesn’t get spam?  I usually just laugh at them [and maybe if I’m feeling good, I’ll remove them from some of my mailing lists].

The ones who complain about their mailbox being full are simple.  I just go onto their server and delete all their mail.  For some reason, this annoys them despite the fact that I have solved their problem.  Some people are never satisfied.

The ones who complain they are not receiving mails are usually just sad fuckers who are blaming me for their lack of friends.

Oddly enough, I’m getting a lot of complaints from people who claim they can’t send mails.

I did a bit of investigating here as I was intrigued as to why these mails were so important.

One of my clients has just got married.  The horny fucker has been sending rather graphic mails to his new mother-in-law telling her how he has fallen in love with her [and what he would like to do with her].  I had a moral dilemma here, so I just redirected all his outgoing mails into his wife’s inbox.  They are all on the same server, so he stopped getting error messages and the problem was solved.

There is another bloke who has come up with a new business idea.  I’m not sure exactly what it is, but it has something to do with selling ice-cream on line.  He is trying to promote his idea by mailing every Tom Dick and Harry he can think of.  Fucking idiot.  I redirected his outgoing mail into a null account, so he is now happy.

One persistent bastard did some sleuthing of his own.  He claims that my mail server has been blacklisted on the Interweb for ‘spreading malicious material or spamming’.  He had a fucking nerve.  He should mind his own business, and let me get on with mine.

Anyone want any Viagra or an excellent watch?

• work
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Grandad June 23rd, 2009

I have come to the conclusion that women know fuck all about clothes and clothing.

They spend a fortune on magazines, and watch all those crappy programmes on television but they still refuse to learn.

Even the so called experts on the television know fuck all.

What women fail to recognise is that clothing has certain basic functions.

Its primary function is as protection.

Quite honestly, I don’t fancy trailing my dangly bits through a bed of nettles when I am out walking the fields, and I defy anyone to trim brambles when in the altogether.

Clothing also serves to keep us warm.  I can guarantee that my manhood would shrink to a mere eight inches if I had to walk down to the pub bollock naked on a frosty winter’s evening. 

Clothing is also a primary means of storage.  If I did arrive in the pub in my birthday suit, how am I supposed to pay for my pint, when I have nowhere to keep my change?  Where am I supposed to put my pipe when I am not using it?  Where can I store a phone number if I should strike lucky?

Herself is always on to me about my clothes.  She nags me to buy new shirts and when I tell her to fuck off, she buys them anyway.  She always gets white ones with no breast pockets.  What use is a shirt without a breast pocket?  And then she complains that I get the white shirt dirty.  God give me strength!!  Of course a white shirt is going to show up the blood or whatever.

She goes and buys me trousers, but they don’t have decent hip pockets in them.  They are uncomfortable and the material is so thin that it is no protection at all against the gorse.  Then she complains when I go out hunting in my comfortable tatty old chords.

I’m seriously coming to the conclusion that us men should reclaim the clothing industry and stop all this fashion crap.

Gok Wan should leave it to the men

Then women can concentrate on what they do best.

Like cooking, cleaning and having babies.

• Around the house
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