Oh,
computer of mine, this morning cold and
icy,
you gave me such a hard time. You refused
me
entry to the Internet, would not even display
the
Google Icon allowing me the access I needed
to
stream and receive my world-wide connecti-
vity.
(Pity, pity, poor me.) Try after try, finessing
your
sensibilities, pleading and cursing with word
and
finger, pressing every key available to me,
hoping
to achieve a reliable model of accessibility.
Alas,
I found reboot as a last ditch necessity. And
praise
be, you spiteful electronic piece of crap, it
worked.
I realize even in your world of advanced
technology
there are no guarantees. In ancient times
you
would have surely been stoned for your vile and
malicious
improprieties—guilty as charged—heinous
crimes
against mankind, I surmise.
Chris
Hanch
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