I’m feeling not so much the day of the lord but a day of rest.
No whales to be seen today. I think they may have read the San Francisco Chronicle and realized floating shitheads abound. We did get to see a rather large pelican dive-bombing what I assume was a fish.
Sadly, I did see what I at first thought was a living seal bobbing close to shore. As it came closer and closer to the beach, it was clear that it was the corpse of young seal with a rather vicious chunk removed from its side.
I gotta say, I like the walking to the beach and doing nothing seaside, even if it meant seeing the down side of nature. The saddest part of the poor dead little guy was the cluster of girls that “discovered” it and then commenced with the throwing shit at it. Feebly, I walked by and told them to leave it alone. Why the fuck do little kids face death with stick and rock pelting?
Other than the wonders of nature, the weekend was all about rocking the wonders of technology. Clearly, Steve Jobs is working some serious voodoo. I purposefully ignored the new specs for Apple’s new line of MacBooks; No reason to consider when I was happily using last year’s model. In some kind of fucked up cosmic fate, on Friday, I closed my laptop lid as I groggily headed to bed only to wake up on Saturday to a shattered screen fanning out from what looked like a mini-bullet hole. Methinks I clammed onto some kind of boulder or something.
Worse yet, in the voodoo department, I already had an appointment set for a telephone call with Apple support and a visit to the local Genius bar. Mysteriously, the same fateful Friday my iPhone had stopped wanting to connect to 3G. As the Genius pulled open the box for a fresh phone to replace the ailing one, it was hard ignore the shiniest replacements for my cracked screen.
(As a side note, here’s the thing about Apple. Not only did the Genius replace my phone (in turn giving me another 90 days warranty even though the phone was due to end its year-long protection in three weeks), he gave me the business card for a third-party repair place down the street that beats Apple’s boutique pricing in case I wanted to fix the screen. I know folks bitch about the Cult of Mac, but that’s some pretty good customer service mojo offering up the lower priced advice.)
(Also, as another check on fandom for fandom’s sake, I have a long history of buying smart phones, especially if you at the old, olden days, when I had a Handspring Visor and modem module. I kept that next to my horseless carriage and victrola. In every phase of bleeding edge technology, I’ve had issues with hardware both of my own and the manufacturer’s making. Only with the iPhone have I gotten shiny new replacements when things went awry, although I remember Handspring as a relic of good hardware.)
Steve, and his Jedi mind tricks, wanted me to stay in the fold, so I obliged with a shinier, newer, faster MacBook with the sweet little SD card reader in the side that means I don’t have to find my cheap plastic card reader every time I take a photo.
The benefit of the cracked screen is M. is really all about the size of the display and prefers a desktop computer. In all the years I’ve ever seen him with a laptop, it’s been no where near a lap. A quick trip to Fry’s, some extra RAM and a 25-inch HD monitor later, and he has a sweet little system. You can’t see the crack if you don’t use the screen.
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