Last month was my worst month ever in recorded history, and my recorded history goes back a long time. It is a pity that month fell exactly when the disaster with Theresa came due. Bear in mind it was also a turning point, a very critical month in my career. My success now depends on how long my health holds out against the odds. I spent the entire day working with MicroSoft’s System 7.What a piece of junk, again it’s primary purpose seems to be to cause a universal software update to get rid of all the pirated copies out there. They don’t seem to have learned that they cannot win at that game. Their entire coding architecture is too ill-thought to ever make it even partially invulnerable. They didn’t fix the real bugs back in 1994 when they had the chance.
It was an education. I discovered most new laptops do not have a dialup internal modem, although the jack is there to fool the customers. Yes, I was connecting dialups for my French-Canadian customers, who are a captive group. There is nobody else left in S. Florida that can work with Win98 and nobody who can recognize the French commands. It took two hours to figure out that modem was missing, then a special trip to Best Buy for a $60 external model.
Then (as I’ve warned before) the newest IE (Internet Explorer) does not have Outlook Express. One has to use Mozilla or other third-party software. It took another hour to work around that, with the customer losing all the accumulated addresses and setting which Outlook cannot export. Outlook was junk since day one, but nobody listened.
Including a break for tea and chicken sandwiches, it was a seven hour marathon to get that connected. Like Vista, all the included software is not free, it is only trial period samples. Google has bribed, er, I mean, funded various downloaded apps to install Google Chrome and Google toolbars when they were not asked for. I gave the Frenchies a break since I was admittedly learning it as I went along. One day, I too will be forced to move to the new MonkeySoft Operating System.
By late afternoon, I was so internally tired, I came home to read. Trivia time. You know that little skip Chuck Berry did on stage? It has a name, “duckwalk”. Duh, okay. More trivia. A slinky has 80 feet of metal and it seems there are collector clubs for articles made of real bakelite, not plastic. Real bakelite, they'll have none of that phony bakelite.
On the way home, there was some incident at the Canada Motel on Washington, police, three fire engines, ambulances, dogs, and onlookers. The cops had a ladder and were going from tree to tree. I also stopped in at the motorcycle shop to discover they have a used 49cc bike motor in perfect condition and will install it for $150. Check back tomorrow, as I may sell the Taurus for parts and move on the Fishmann PA system.
Meanwhile, no word from Wallace. That is the worst possible thing to do, as I have some extra money but for example, do I pay the rent or the electric bill which will soon go to collections? Both may be lost money unless I know the game plan, so I wait. I lose nothing by waiting. You see, things have changed in the past few months and I am no longer the one who loses when others fail to perform. Strange how some people get strange. Ah, but I understand the mentality of people who try to angle things so their problems land on you.
As I passed through downtown to get here, I was shocked into a distant past on the street. There ahead of me was a perfect Robynette-body, an incredible sight to see. I’ve seen a lot, my friends, and I know perfection. Then, the woman turned around and said hello, calling me by name. It was like my brain froze down memory lane from a vision so badly wanted again. Momentarily, the realization that the Reb is now nearing 40 hit me, and I saw that it was Alexis, the daughter of the owners of G’s place. My entire conscious reasoning was halted into suspended animation by that half-second blaze of paradise. Bound by a wild desire? That hasn't happened around here in years. (She went on to become a stripper or something.)
