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Archive for October, 2008

Dear the bearded shirtless man (a.k.a., the patriarchal figure (presumably) of the Next Doors),

By all accounts, it is still October.  When I left this morning, barely beating out the sunrise, it was approximately thirty degrees, not even counting windchill.  I was wearing multiple layers and a winter coat.  You were… not.  You were, at seven in the morning, in October, in the Northeast, sitting on your porch, as bearded and shirtless as ever.  I appreciate that you bustled indoors once you heard me emerging from the safe cocoon that was my warm (oh so warm) abode, but it did not spare me the image of your vast, fleshy, perplexingly naked back shuffling off.

Does the beard keep you warm in the winter?  Is that it?  You don’t need all of those flashy Halloween decorations you put up circa-September.  When the small children approach your house tonight seeking candy, they’ll see you and be frightened enough.

Yours,

the Brain

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Dear my coworkers,

Internet use ‘good for the brain’.  So sayeth BBC News, at least, and they’re all British and stuff, so you know they’ve got their heads on all straight-like.  (Bet you thought I was going to make a joke about British dentistry right about here, didn’t you?  Well, this is a classy establishment, kids.  We have standards.  Leave your shoes by the door and use a damn coaster, mmkay?)  I mean, these are the people who’ve brought us that Willy Shakes dude.  And… tea, I think.  And the Queen!  So, I mean, clearly.  (Are we clear?)  The point is, science.  If you’re going to listen to “scientific” claims that an all-butter diet is going to save your heart/waistline/butterlust, then you can listen to some British nerds and maybe try and figure out how to work your printer, or not close down your virus scanning program in the middle of a scan just because “all those pop-ups are annoying.”

Speaking of annoyance, I wear mine on my sleeve.  Here’s hoping someone somewhere learns something.

Peace out,

the Brain

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I make no claims to be a technological genius.  One of my gentleman associates (you might call them “dude bros”), a stalwart Mac user, knows more about PCs than I could ever hope to, despite them being the only thing I use.  Technology doesn’t much interest me beyond turning it on and reaping the benefits.  But here’s the thing: I can, in fact, turn it on.

I’m not afraid of machines.  I don’t really care about machines, but I make the effort to learn what they do (and if I’m feeling good, how they do it), and at the very least, how I can make them do it.  The same cannot be said for my coworkers, one of whom I’ve had to teach, on several separate occasions, despite her writing the information down, how to send documents to the non-default printer.  Just today I had to help out someone with an audio CD that wouldn’t play.  The problem?  The volume on the computer was set to mute.  And when I figured this out and turned it on, they acted as though I was the second coming.  It’s not brilliance so much as the application of common sense.  Or what I would have previously considered common sense, before I started interacting with the commonfolk and realized this sense was not present.

I recognize that I’m the youngest person in the office.  By a good twenty-odd years in my department alone.  But just because I’ve whiled away the purported best years of my life in this technological age doesn’t mean I’m any more capable than anyone else in this building.  Theoretically.  Right?  It’s ageist or something.  I mean, the fatherperson is older than all of my coworkers (not that I’d tell him that), and he’s constantly buying technology or downloading new programs to futz around with and master.  So if it’s not an age thing, than what?  Fear of a robot planet?

Hey guys, I’ve seen the future.  Fear not.  Will Smith saves us every time, be it from robots, aliens, or vampires.  That’s one less thing for you and I to worry about.  So don’t you think we owe it to him to at least learn how to program our VCRs?

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