On my way to work today, I
saw a pig flying through a snowstorm in the middle of Death Valley
during a raging wildfire, and all the missing ballots in Ohio
showed up in a riverboat casino near South Point. Immovable objects
collided with irresistible forces, eyeballs evolved, and a
multimillionaire sports figure thought twice before committing some
loathsome act of felonious wickedness.
Oh, and John Dvorak said he likes Macs.
Sorta.
I'm not a real Mac pundit, although I pretend to be one on the
Web.
No, I'm just a simple teacher and an early Mac user. I
discovered computers in the stone age of computing, back during the
late 1970s and early 80s. I've sort of been frozen in time since
System 7, in a way, when discovering a GUI was fun.
Recently, I was unfrozen by some
scientists and discovered the strange new world of
OS X.
At first, it was frightening and confusing! Sometimes the
bouncing icons in the Dock makes me want to leave my computer and
go back to using slide rules and counting rocks.
When the computer talks to me, I sometimes wonder, "Did little
demons get inside it and speak?"
I don't know! My primitive mind can't grasp the complex concepts
provided to me by the Pundits of Lore™.
But there is one thing I do know - when a man like John Dvorak
finally confesses that after all these years of catering to the
lowest common denominator, he's finally decided that maybe, just
maybe, there's a better way of computing (and if not better, at
least alternative and valid one) - well then, ladies and gentlemen
of the Mac Web, I have to say, I think . . . I think
. . . my work here is done.
For what else is there to do for a snarky columnist who, on a
good day, fielded both the "dumbass" and "uniformed" labels and has
been accused by his own peers of purposeless (purposeless!) ranting
without sufficient research, sloppy journalistic standards
(standards!), and a complete and utter lack of control of the
English language, whose only purpose in life was to ridicule the
Pundits of Lore™ and to chip away with a cheap "only one
dollar" aluminum spoon at the mighty edifice that is the altar of
the Axis of Macevil: Dvorak, Enderle, and that IT guy who works at
your company but won't sign your purchase order?
Whatever shall I do, except to keep moving my phalanges against
this all-too-mushy cheapo Dynex keyboard and let my heart spill out
onto your screen, relating my anguish, my disbelief, nay, my
astonishment at Mr. Dvorak's change of heart.
I just can't freaking believe it.