8 Sep 2015

And Then, A Click In Haste….

Over at Head Rambles is a sad tale of the vagaries of installing Windows 10. He has my symphony. Hay, a song always lightens the load, right?

Anyhoo, he ends his post with, "But even more I hate my little compulsion to click that little button "just to see what happens"."

Oh boy. I'm betting a whole bunch of us could type volumes on that simple statement, 'Just to see what happens.' You ever work with an engineer or mechanic who, upon receiving a new bit o' kit could just install said bit o' kit and fire it up? Not one. First rattle out the box, get said bit o' kit on the bench and strip it down to see what's inside and how it works. 'Think I'll move that bit just to see what happens.'

Coincidentally, yesterday, I clicked something I had no need to click. In fact I had to dig around a bit to find the thingy to click on but find and click I did and a short time later, related or not, I have no idea, clicking yet again on stuff I never use, Microsoft Apps, I didn't fall over backwards in amazement to discover nothing happened. Let's try the store. Flash and gone. Nothing. Is that a problem? For what I do, no. For Windows 10 and many users, I can imagine it being a big problem.

Voyage round the World Wide Web, and I may have mentioned this before, but the abbreviation for World Wide Web is WWW. So we have an abbreviation that takes fractionally longer to say than World Wide Web {How fascinating is that then?}, I found I'm far from alone with this 'problem'. I'll just wait, as it troubles me not, for Service Pack Forty to fix it. This is not strictly true – I'm sure I'll fiddle 'till I 'break' something else. Thing is, it's all tickety-boo on the ex 7 machine but on the ex 8 dot 1 it's far more boo than tickety.

By the way, out of interest, I did try one of they system restore thingies. It recommended resetting to 1995…

In other news Dave announced he'd dropped a bomb on two fellows and, in the same breath, given the go-ahead to let twenty thousand other fellows in. Dave, sorry ol' buddy but you really need to cool your jets and start thinking things through 'couse, right now, you're coming across as being dumber 'un a doorknob.

Quote;  Norman Ralph Augustine.

"One of the most feared expressions in modern times is 'The computer is down.'"

            Steve Wozniak.

"Never trust a computer you can't throw out a window."


Caratacus said...

Knew I'd heard it somewhere ...

From "A Man For All Seasons":

William Roper: So, now you give the Devil the benefit of law!

Sir Thomas More: Yes! What would you do? Cut a great road through the law to get after the Devil?

William Roper: Yes, I'd cut down every law in England to do that!

Sir Thomas More: Oh? And when the last law was down, and the Devil turned 'round on you, where would you hide, Roper, the laws all being flat? This country is planted thick with laws, from coast to coast, Man's laws, not God's! And if you cut them down, and you're just the man to do it, do you really think you could stand upright in the winds that would blow then? Yes, I'd give the Devil benefit of law, for my own safety's sake!

Mac said...



This whole ‘crises’{?} thingy is really gripping her indoors as it took us six years and a small fortune to get her a leave to remain visa. Now she sees that all she needed to have done was to rock-up at the border, declare she was being persecuted in her home land for her dislike of noodles and walk right in.

I find the BBC and other ‘news’ channels 24 Hour Rolling Bol**x compulsive viewing lately just to see the obvious, in your face, contradiction between their words and their pictures.
All their senior handwringers are in strategic locations and I love the way they breathlessly announce, with a runny nosed kid in shot, that these migrants - refugees hasn’t been used for a while now - have all fled war-torn lands{?}, have been walking for many weeks{?} through deserts, wading rivers, risking tempestuous seas and walking the lines with little or no food or water.
These reporters aren’t dumb so it can’t be lost on them that the ‘desperate’ folk they’re standing in front of are mainly male, are all reasonably dressed, right down to designer trainers, well groomed, with hair trendily coiffured and with many using smartphones that are amazingly, given the reported ‘weeks’ of hiking and swimming, still working and miraculously still charged. {I do hope someone has a patent out on those super strength covers and extra long-life batteries!} I’ve seen far more dishevelled lookin’ people escaping Tesco after an hours shopping of an early Friday evening.
It’s also not surprising to hear the first thing they seem to say upon arrival in the EU is, “I want.....”. I guess that’s them showing how well they’ll assimilate into our culture.
I feel it’s all going to come alarming unglued pretty soon and I wonder what’s really going on behind the scenes; but I try not to dwell on ‘wondering’ for too long.
This music is ‘way out there’ and possibly ‘way, way to far out there’ for many folk, but give it a try;


Caratacus said...

Just got back from a day of back-breaking hard labour in the Bristol area and read your comment above. I can see that you speak from the heart there ... well-said too sir, if I may make the observation.

One of the sites I had to visit was a place of essentially masculine, hard-assed, sweaty physical endeavour and in my visits in the past there have been the usual collection of Bristolian accented worthies of every hue on hand. Today, as I went to open the plate glass door to the offices I thought I saw a blur of motion behind the mirror bright reflection. As I stepped in the apparition swirled around in an unwinding spiral to reveal a lady of middle-eastern origins completely encased, head to foot, in yards and yards of heavy brown material. Never one to be wrong-footed, I said, "Salaam alaikum" and gave a slight bow. She was gratifyingly surprised ... (understandably so bearing in mind that I am large, bearded, hairy, was wearing a vest and sweating like a dray horse after a particularly heavy day delivering beer) but gathered herself sufficently to respond in kind.

But I bethought me of a tale I heard some time ago which I thought may amuse:

A young Arab asks his father:
– What is this hat thing that we are wearing?
It's a “chechia” because in the desert it protects our heads from the sun!
– And what is this type of clothing that we are wearing?
It’s a “djbellah” because in the desert it is very hot and it protects your body!
– And what are these ugly shoes that we have on our feet?
These are “babouches”, which keep us from burning our feet when in the desert!
- Tell me, papa…
Yes, my son?
- Why are we living behind the petrol station in Edgware Road and still wearing all this old bollocks?

Mac said...


Despite all we say, one has to have sympathy with the ‘common folk’ of all lands that are caught-up in nightmare situations not of their making.
I well remember my last visit to Cairo - great place, great people - doing some oil field course sort of stuff. On the last day the boys came in, the same guys who’d been such fun and shown me great hospitality, all looking very sad with hang-dog expressions. I asked, as you would, what was to-do and they explained the developing situation to me in simple terms.
At the end of the day, my last day, we said our farewells and the boys said, “In the weeks, maybe years to come, remember us and weep for us.”
Not many days after getting home that ‘spring’ thing kicked-off.
Sadly, my first thought was for myself and how lucky I’d been to have left the country when I did but then my thoughts did, and frequently still do, turn to the people who’s home it is.

Caratacus said...

Thank you, Mac. Perhaps the following (from my kid Sister - a hard-bitten, no-nonsense NHS theatre manager of the old school) will give depth:

You’re 29 years old with a wife, two children and a job. You have enough money, and can afford a few nice things, and you live in a small house in the city. Suddenly the political situation in your country changes and a few months later soldiers are gathered in front of your house. And in front of your neighbours’ houses.
They say that if you don’t fight for them, they will shoot you.
Your neighbour refuses. One shot. That’s it. You overhear one of the soldiers telling your wife to spread her legs. Somehow you get rid of the soldiers and spend the night deep in thought. Suddenly you hear an explosion. Your house no longer has a living room. You run outside and see that the whole street is destroyed.Nothing is left standing. You take your family back into the house, and then you run to your parents' house. It is no longer there. Nor are your parents.

Caratacus said...

You look around and find an arm with your Mother’s ring on its finger. You can’t find any other sign of your parents.
"But asylum seekers have so many luxury goods! Smartphones, and designer clothes!"
You immediately forget it. You rush home, and tell your wife to get the children dressed. You grab a small bag, because anything bigger will be impossible to carry for a long time, and in it you pack essentials. Only 2 pieces of clothing each can fit in the bag.
What do you take?
You will probably never see your home country again.
Not your family, not your neighbours, your workmates…
But how can you stay in contact?
You hastily throw your smartphone and the charger in the bag.
Along with the few clothes, some bread and your small daughters favourite teddy.
"They can easily afford to get away. They aren’t poor!"
Because you could see the emergency coming, you have already scraped all your money together.
You managed to save some money because of your well paid job.
The kind people smuggler in the neighbourhood charges 5,000 euros per person.
You have 15,000 euros. With a bit of luck, you’ll all be able to go. If not, you will have to let your wife go.
You love her and pray that you the smugglers will take you all.
By now you are totally wiped out and have nothing else. Just your family and the bag.
The journey to the border takes two weeks on foot.
You are hungry and for the last week have barely eaten. You are weak, as is your wife. But at least the children have enough.
They have cried for the whole 2 weeks.
Half the time you have to carry your younger daughter. She is only 21 months old.
A further 2 weeks and you arrive at the sea.
In the middle of the night you’re loaded onto a ship with other refugees.
You are lucky: your whole family can travel.
The ship is so full that it threatens to capsize. You pray that you don’t drown.
The people around you are crying and screaming.
A few small children have died of thirst.
The smugglers throw them overboard.
Your wife sits, vacantly, in a corner. She hasn’t had anything to drink for 2 days.
When the coast is in sight, you are loaded onto small boats.
Your wife and the younger child are on one, you and your older child are on another.
You are warned to stay silent so that nobody knows you’re there.
Your older daughter understands.
But your younger one in the other boat doesn’t. She doesn’t stop crying.
The other refugees are getting nervous. They demand that your wife keeps the child quiet.

Caratacus said...

She doesn’t manage it.
One of the men grabs your daughter, rips her away from your wife and throws her overboard.
You jump in after her, but you can’t find her again.
Never again.
In 3 months she would have turned 2 years old.
Isn’t that enough for you? They still have it too good here and have everything handed to them on a plate?
You don’t know how you, your wife and your older daughter manage to get to the country that takes you in.
It’s as though everything is all foggy. Your wife hasn’t spoken a word since your daughter died.
Your older daughter hasn’t let go of her sister’s teddy and is totally apathetic.
But you have to keep going. You are just about to arrive at the emergency accommodation.
It is 10pm. A man whose language you don’t understand takes you to a hall with camp beds. There are 500 beds all very close together.
In the hall it’s stuffy and loud.
You try to get your bearings. To understand what the people there want from you.
But in reality you can barely stand up. You nearly wish that they had shot you.
Instead you unpack your meagre possessions:
Two items of clothing each and your smartphone.
Then you spend your first night in a safe country.
The next morning you’re given some clothes.
Among the donated clothes are even branded ‘label’ clothes. And a toy for your daughter.
You are given 140 euros. For the whole month.
"They’re safe here. Therefore they should be happy!"
Outside in the yard, dressed in your new clothes, you hold your smartphone high in the air and hope to have some reception.
You need to know if anyone from your city is still alive.
Then a 'concerned citizen‘ comes by and abuses you.
You don’t know why. You don’t understand “Go back to your own country!"
You understand some things like “smartphone” and “handed everything on a plate.”
Somebody translates it for you.
And now tell me how you feel and what you own?
The answer to both parts of that is “Nothing.”

Caratacus said...

My apologies - apparently the post was a bit on the long side. Never been accused of that before :-)

Mac said...

Very eloquently put and is yet more proof, should more be required, that coins do, indeed, have two sides and that we need to look through the images we’re presented with as well as the words. Thank you.
Sadly, I still fear that in amongst all the goodies it’s quite possible there could be a bunch of baddies so do keep that longbow by the door.