NeXTStep sprung from Shame & Pride
Blowd in the morn; in evening died.
But Apple bought it and kicked out pros;
X-men cheered and paid through the nose.

Whatever is Born of NeXTStep Birth
Must perish like all crap and dirt;
Mac OS X, you are worse than XP:
Then what have I to do with thee?

(Blake)

Interview with the X-man

"My i-love's as a fever, longing still
For upgrades to sink into the money pit,
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill:
My sickly appetite to eat shit.

My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that I still gobble up i-Life,
Hath left me, and I desperate now cough
Up good money for an X-infested G5.

Past cure I am, now reason is past care,
And frantic mad for evermore eye-candy.
My thoughts and my discourse as Stevie’s are:
At random from the truth, expressed vainly;

For I have sworn X fair, and thought X bright,
While it’s as ugly as hell, as dumb as shite."

(Shakespeare)

This message has been edited. Last edited by: yabor,

Read all about it

Miss Aqua, the prolific author of
Yes, it’s Me, Me again, Me and I,
Onan, I-GUI, In search of Myself--
That Miss Aqua must die.

Interview with a Pro

“Shall I tell you about my working day?
It sucks, because X is a piece of shit.
Dead zone bugs grow out of Exposé,
Quartz spells b.l.o.a.t., and X is full of it.”

“Always too bright the traffic light shines,
Fonts are upscaled, blurred and dimmed,
And the more you use X, the more it declines --
Four years on, its fat remains untrimmed.”

“Nine’s eternal toolness shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that flair it owns,
Unlike Toy-Story X, which was by NeXTies made
Targeting twiddlers, chimps and drones.”

“So long as pros can breathe and think and see,
So long will they long for Mac OS 9.3”

(Shakespeare)

Ah, sweet sweet silly...

Brother yabor! You're a sight for sore, very sore, bloodshot eyes.

How's it going, man?

Hello brother thalo, I’m well, thanks, and I hope you’re well too.

These days my free time is taken up by chess. I want to become a decent chess player. I’ve been a chess addict on and off during my life.

I’ve pretty much given up on Apple. Though I’ve still got hope, I don’t see any sign that things are changing for the better. Tiger seems to be just another frustrating X-cat, another Aqua extravaganza. It wouldn’t surprise me if it would turn out to be even slower than Panther on my ageing eMac.

I still come to thalo.net every day, and read every post.

They shall drink aqua that know no better,
But Mac pros shall drink it never;
The NeXTmen who made aluminot
Shall look on hell, but we shall not.

Father Unix with traffic lights lit,
The Pope is not so slow as it.
Our workflow that freezes could not lay
Marketeers have stopped for aye;

And in the buried AHIGs lie
Thoughts much wider than the sky.

(Housman)

Father Steve

Stevie, the gentlest father,
Impatient of no child
That sends him critical feedback --
His admonition mild

In the world and on the Web
By his flock be heard,
Delighting jubilant X-men
With promise of more Gogurt.

How fair his keynote speech,
A rainy afternoon, -
The i-Apps, and the i-Pod;
And when Big Tiger come

Steve’s voice among the Quartz
Incite the timid prayer
Of the worthiest chimp,
The most unworthy switcher.

When Mac pros try and work
He turns as long away
As will suffice to piss on 9’s grave;
Then, winking to Exposé,

With infinite affection
And infiniter care,
Wills beachballs on their desktop,
And dead zones everywhere.

(Emily Dickinson)

(Just passing this on....)


Why Computers Sometimes Crash! by Dr. Seuss.


If a packet hits a pocket on a socket on a port,
and the bus is interrupted at a very last resort,
and the access of the memory makes your floppy disk abort,
then the socket packet pocket has an error to report.
If your cursor finds a menu item followed by a dash,
and the double-clicking icon puts your window in the trash,
and your data is corrupted cause the index doesn't hash,
then your situation's hopeless and your system's gonna crash!
If the label on the cable on the table at your house,
says the network is connected to the button on your mouse,
but your packets want to tunnel to another protocol,
that's repeatedly rejected by the printer down the hall.
And your screen is all distorted by the side effects of gauss,
so your icons in the window are as wavy as a souse;
then you may as well reboot and go out with a bang,
'cuz sure as I'm a poet, the sucker's gonna hang.
When the copy on your floppy's getting sloppy in the disk,
and the macro code instructions is causing unnecessary risk,
then you'll have to flash the memory and you'll want to RAM your ROM,
and then quickly turn off the computer and be sure to tell your Mom!
Well, that certainly clears things up for me. How about you? Thank you,
Bill Gates, for bringing all this into our lives.

The Blue Chimp

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over quaint and geeky gibberish of archaic unix lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my studio door.
`'Tis some marketeer,' I muttered, `tapping at my studio door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And what with stripes and blurry fonts my eyes were sore.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From thalo.net surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Liz More -
For the rare and friendly maiden whom the angels named Liz More -
Killed on stage for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each thick gray curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some marketeer entreating entrance at my studio door -
Some late marketeer entreating entrance at my studio door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my studio door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Aqua there, and nothing more.

Deep into that aqua peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams we Mac pros have all dreamt before.
But the silence was unbroken, and the downpour gave no token,
And the only words there spoken were the whispered words, `Liz More!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the words, `Liz More!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into my studio turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the window, when, muttering strange mumbo jumbo,
In there limped the blue chimp who runs the local Apple Store.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my studio door -
Perched upon a bust of MacLash just above my studio door -
Perched, and crapped, and nothing more.

Then this azure chimp beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Thou art cumbersome and slow,' I said, `and art sure no pro.
Ghastly blue and silly monkey wandering from the Apple Store -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Black Night's NeXTian shore!'
Quoth the blue chimp, `Nevermore.'

The blue chimp still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I pushed my desk in front of chimp and bust and door;
Then, upon the desktop sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this chimp from the Apple Store -
What this fat, ungainly, and ominous chimp from the Apple Store
Meant in saying `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if chimp or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Dull and fat yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this studio by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Cupertino? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the blue chimp, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if chimp or devil!
By the HIGs that Apple gave us - by that CEO we both adore -
Tell this pro with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
I shall clasp a buried maiden whom the angels named Liz More -
Clasp a rare and friendly maiden, whom the angels named Liz More?'
Quoth the blue chimp, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, chimp or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the aqua and the Black Night's NeXTian shore!
Leave no gum drop as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy teeth from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the blue chimp, `Nevermore.'

And the blue chimp, ever shitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of MacLash just above my studio door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the traffic light o'er him streaming drops his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!

(Edgar Allan Poe)

This message has been edited. Last edited by: yabor,

quote:

---

Then this azure chimp beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Thou art cumbersome and slow,' I said, `and art sure no pro.
Ghastly blue and silly monkey wandering from the Apple Store -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Black Night's NeXTian shore!'
Quoth the blue chimp, `Nevermore.'

---

Oh my holy crap, I believe I have soiled myself! LOL! Friggin' brilliant, brother yabor. I love it. Christmas came early.

I'm glad to see you back from vacation all energetic and full of cheer, brother thalo.
Lizzy get your gun.

Unix Geeks

In no other field have medical quacks flourished as prominently as in the field of OS X-induced illness.
It is not hard to understand why.

In the first place unix geeks -- the medical quacks specializing in OS X victims -- can usually make a great deal of money. In the second place, if they are sincere, or partly sincere, the healing success they are almost sure to achieve will greatly bolster their delusions. In some cases, of course, the doctor is an out-and-out charlatan. In other cases he is as sincere as was the notorious Saint Phil about the amazing speed of OS 10.1. In still other cases, there is that baffling mixture of sincerty and skulldudgery which so often is found within a crackpot’s brain.

There are two great secrets to the unix geek’s success. One is the fact that many OS X-induced ills, including some of the severest, will vanish without trace with no treatment other than turning the Mac off and using instead a Windows PC. Suppose, for example, Miss Smith -- a cute-looking newbie to Apple -- is unable to get rid of that characteristic splitting headache which is caused by staring at OS X’s blurry fonts. Bona fide doctors recommend Miss Smith to switch to Windows or Linux. Miss Smith is horrified and kicks them out. She decides to try a unix genius she has heard about, whose methods are unorthodox, but who has been strongly recommended on Apple apologist websites. The doctor proves to be a distinguished-looking geek who talks with great authority about Unix. He charms her with mumbo jumbo. Diplomas from several geek schools are on the wall, and he is apt to have a sexy (but phony) tail.

Miss Smith decides she has nothing to lose. In addition, she is lonely and enjoys talking to geeks about OS X. So she takes off her bra and lets the doctor shine the mysterious red light from his mouse over her shapely breasts for ten minutes. It only costs 500 dollars, but of course she has to return for three or four additional treatments, depending on her looks. The doctor forbids her to power up her iMac at home: because the ‘Mac Fotons’ ejected by the LCD-screen, though harmless, are ‘extreme’, and would neutralize the red light’s healing effect. She is allowed, however, to use a Windows box if she so wishes, as “Redwood fotons are a sorry lot, too feeble to interfere with the healing goodness of the red light.”
After a week or so her headache has vanished. Incredible as it may seem, Miss Smith is now firmly persuaded that the red light is responsible for the cure. She becomes one of the geek’s loyal boosters. She powers up her iMac again. Before the year is over, the geek has milked tens of thousands of dollars from her bank account. Half the successes of unix geeks are exactly of this sort.

The other half are due to the fact that many OS X-victims are wholly psychotic. Negative thoughts about OS X are shunned like Death. If such a patient’s faith in Apple, and thus in unix geeks, is sufficiently strong, regardless of how bizarre the geek’s methods may be, he will often “cure” himself by entering in a state of denial. The victim eventually ends up believing that the headaches, nausea, shaking hands, apoplexia, in some cases even blindness that became part of his life since he started using OS X, are either peanuts, his own fault, or, believe it or not, non-existant. And, of course, the larger the following the geek has, the more the patient’s faith is augmented. Moreover, if dozens of Miss Smith’s friends are chatting about red-light healing, the stronger will be her desire to become part of this trend -- an initiate who can talk about HER experiences with the new type of treatment. When everyone is seeing functional Finders, you naturally would like to see one yourself. If everyone is getting cured by red light, you want to be cured the same way. Regardless of what her more enlightened brothers, or even Brother thalo himself, may tell her, Miss Smith has one simple and irrefutable answer -- it works.

And work it does. Every time X-Critics drag a geek into court, he has no trouble at all finding scores of dupes willing to testify about miraculous cures. Just as every faith-healing evangelist, now matter how strange his doctrines, will have astonishing platform success, so every modern unix witch, no matter how preposterous his rituals and mumbo jumbo, will always find patients he can heal.

(Martin Gardner)

Ode to OS X

System of mists and crystal sausages,
Close bosom-friend of marketeering crooks;
Conspiring with Steve how to load and press
His NeXTCrap onto Apple's -Macs and -Books.

Where are the AHIGs of old? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them: you have Quartz, and iTunes too;--
Roccocconic bloat swallowed functional gray
And Aqua flows slower than piss mixed with glue.

You gogurtize the GUI and make the Finder stall;
You fill the Mac with Open Sores to the core;
You swell icons, and fatten with drop-shadows
The white desktop type; you set spinning more,
And still more, the ubiquitous beachball,
For chimps to lick, twiddling behind the Firewall;--
Now digibait clogs the damnèd workflow of pros.

(John Keats)

This message has been edited. Last edited by: yabor,

quote:

---

And Aqua flows slower than piss mixed with glue.

---

Some of your finest work, brother Keats-bor! That whole last stanza has to be read aloud to really appreciate it.

Keats is a personal fave of mine.

Ode on thalo.net

Slow, bloated apps are stalling here and there
Among the GUI half aqua, half metal;
Again I watch the ubiquitous beachball
Lord it over this fucked-up freeware.
Yet tonight feel I little of that bleak despair
Brought on by a dockie’s rise and fall,
Or by gibberish spouting from the Terminal,
Or by traffic lights that dumbly at me stare:
For I am brimfull of the fun and dada
That in a little website I have found;
Of bro thalo’s crusade in the OS X era,
And all his love for less-is-more drown’d;
Of brother Brad sporting his kinky grey bra,
And faithful Plat’num gloriously crown’d.

(Keats)

This message has been edited. Last edited by: yabor,

Slowspeed

Alfred Beta Next, Supreme Head and First Craptician of the University of Craptology, at Apfelsino, Stalifornia, is in his own opinion the greatest scientific genius living today. It’s regrettable there isn’t some sort of Nobel Prize which would recognize his fantastic career and the computer Operating System that is based upon his theories. As proof, here are two testimonials from Next himself.

“His [Next usually writes of himself in third person] mind responds to every question and the problems that stagger the so-called Mac pros are as kindergarten stuff to him.”

“When I look into the vastness of my greatest practical triumph to date -- OS X -- and see the workings of its contents ... I sometimes think that I was born ten or twenty thousand years ahead of time.”

The publishers of Next’s book, ‘Slowspeed’, have this to say about him: “In comparison to Next’s Law of Slow Speed and Suction-and-Bounce movement, Einstein’s law of relativity is but a primer lesson, and the lessons of Newton, Copernicus and Galileo are but infinitisimal grains of knowledge.” (Note: ‘Slowspeed’ was published by Next.)

A preface to the same book, by someone with the improbable name of Typo Jops, states: “To try to write a sketch of the life and works of Alfred Beta Next in a few pages is like trying to restrict space itself. It cannot be done ... Who is there among us mortals today who can understand Next when he goes below a certain level? There seems to be no limit to the depth of his mental activities ... countless human minds will be strengthened and kept busy for thousands of years developing the limitless branches that emanate from the trunk and roots of the greatest tree of wisdom ever nurtured by the human race.”

In this article I will endeavour to survey briefly the basic principles of Craptology. Although Next has written more than fifty books and pamphlets, the most important sources of his views are ‘Craptology’ (in four volumes, 2000-2004), ‘Distraction’, 1999, and ‘Slowspeed’, 2001. It is from these books that most of the quotations will be taken.

Craptology is defined modestly by Next as “The knowledge of Life and everything pertaining thereto.” He has little use for the theories of “so-called wise-men and self-styled pros ... everything must be provable or reasonable, or it isn’t Craptology ... If it isn’t real; if it isn’t truth; if it isn’t knowledge; if it isn’t intelligence; then it isn’t Craptology.”

Craptology underlies the entire structure of the beloved Macintosh Operating System X, and the result is a computer OS so novel and ground-breaking that Next was forced to invent new terms to describe it. In fact, Next himself has declared that “The correct principles of computer operating systems were unknown until established by Next.” Many of his books open with lengthy glosaries defining these new and revolutionary terms.

In a bold move, the concept of “user-friendliness” is completely redefined. Next conceives of an OS in which there is neither toolness nor workflow, but ony blurry objects moving at slow-speed through quartz-space; objects which provide the end-user (“mark”) with varying degrees of Distraction. Objects of heavy Distraction “gogurtize” objects of lesser Distraction through the operation of various basic Nextonian principles (two of which are ‘Genie-Suction’ and ‘Bounce’ -- see further down). The law governing this gogurtizing process is called Slowspeed. “Gogurtization was far too reaching for the superannuated Macists of personal computing,” Next writes. “... but little by little the rising generations of advancing marketeers have begun to grasp its tremendous value ...”

When a balance is reached between objects of greater and lesser Distraction, Next calls it ‘Aquanimipoise’.

An even more universal principle is that of ‘Permission-and-Spin’. Next defines this as “Mark-engendered activity which grinds down or ceases forthwith in accordance with the level of its nuisance value vis-a-vis the primacy of Distraction-related GUI functions and appearing spin-carrying globular objects moving at slow-speed in quartz-space; each of these depending upon Special Privileges for organic-user mortification and upon varying changes caused by counteracting Sudo-Particles in a state of fluctuating Prefnesia.” Next suggests that an “Extreme Mathematics” will have to be devised for computing these complicated permissions and spins.

The concepts of Genie-Suction and Bounce recur again and again in Next’s thinking. “Flow” -- such as rain, heat, urine, etc. -- is due to these two forces. Light is a “substance similarly drawn into the eye by Suction.” Music is another substance similarly bounced out by iPods and genie-sucked into the ear. Gravity? It is simply the “pull of the earth’s Suction.” In fact, Next candidly admits, “When one studies ... Craptology ... all problems theoretically concocted in connection with Physics will fade away ...”

The human body, as might be expected, operates by means of little Suction and Bounce pumps. Air is sucked into the lungs, candy into the stomach, and blood around the body. Each cell contains minute pumps. Waste matter is, of course, eliminated by downward Bounce. “The internal workflow goes on as long as the Suction and Bounce Terminals ... are properly mainained.” When they cease to suck and bounce, the man dies: his Permission to Live has ended.

The earth is a huge apparatus operating by Suction and Bounce. Although it spins around in a semi-transparent sea of “gibberish” -- a substance essential to life -- it contains within its body a substance even more precious which Next calls “Kraptonite.” This creates a Suction which draws into the earth, through an opening at the North Pole, both gibberish and various substances supplied by the sun and by gases from meteors. Some of this material is also sucked into the earth through surface “ports.” Through the center of the earth, from pole through pole, extends a huge crystal tube. From it branch the arteries (“stripes”) through which flow life-giving substances to all parts of the earth, and veins (“channels”) that flush away waste matter. The South Pole is the earth’s anus. Through it, by Bounce, are expelled the “discharched gases,” although some of this waste matter is eliminated through “fan-movement.” The Aurora lights, at both poles, are caused by these gaseous movements in and out. On page 102 of ‘Slowspeed’ is a beautiful color plate showing the earth in violent action at both ends.

Sex, as might be expected, is simply Suction and Bounce. “Suction is the female of the movement. Bounce is the male ... The attraction of one sex for the other is merely the attraction of Suction for Bounce.”

Of course much more could be written about the extraordinary principles of Craptology, but this should be enough to give a picture of its great depth and scope.

I know of no more inspiring close for this article than the last verse of a poem written by Next himself:

So, cheer up, marks, the Mac is dead,
The future is alrighty,
Move over, Bill, Steve wins the till,
With strength from Next ALMIGHTY.

(Martin Gardner)

Happy Days

LOL! I must tell a tale of awe and shock:
Large playful icons are dancing in my dock;
Gone is the gloomy Mac of platinum days:
X charms us in a thousand graceful ways;
Soft-focusèd Aqua! I’m sure no magic wand,
Or e’en the touch of princess Viagra’s hand,
Could conjure up more pleasing biggitude.
Nor is this all: for you in thoughtful mood
Transported hearts and minds beyond delight
By gracing our screens with traffic light.

Stevie! your fun-loving X to wetware is kind,
And comes like a hazy sun-set to my mind;
And night and day I fiercely pray to God,
That He may fix your growing bald spot:
For never yet was more clearly seen
The ignobility of lean-and-mean.
Therefore, Steve, I humbly but firmly
Call on your gentle spirit to hover nigh
My bank account; and I await Tiger in trust
To see less-is-more still bite the dust.

(Keats)

Ode on a Graphic Pro

Thou unwillingly adopted user of OS X,
Thou foster-child of unix and slow time,
Website owner, who dost there express
Apple’s tale more sweetly than our rhyme:
What old Mac legend haunts about thy G5
Of workflows, toolness and less-is-more,
Of joy and freedom and young Stevie?
What is it about the interface of 10.4
That makes you puke? Come, embrace iLife!
Play an i-tune. Don’t worry, be happy.

Graphic pros are sweet, but digikids
Are sweeter; therefore, ye cool gears, spin on;
Not for grim usefulness, but for shits
And giggles. The AHIGs of old are buried and gone:
Fair thalo, catcher of fish, thou must now leave
The Mac behind, and enter the NeXTCat’s lair;
Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss
Lizzy More again -- yet, do not grieve:
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!

(Keats)

This message has been edited. Last edited by: yabor,

J.J.Q. The Mighty - Song of Macincrap

Thalo was a print guru
that dwelled in Mac OS 9;
he used a Mac of beige color
with many wires to labor on;
her GUI he loved, all platinum fair,
of Azul were her thumbs made,
her icons fashioned with less in mind,
and crispness upon her fonts laid.

A panoply of colored stripes,
to Apple's logo he relegated them;
his shining desktop a score apps
to coax ideas and arts from him;
his mouse was sightless and wired,
his arrow shadowless ebony;
of silver was his menubar,
titlebar of chalcedony;
his CRT was vibrant,
of adamant his tower tall,
and smiling Mac upon his boot,
upon his OS no emerald.

...

To be continued?