Thursday, April 12, 2007

Ten, nine, eight, seven...

Hotel rooms can be cold and impersonal...but, but I get someone to clean up after me, make my bed and breakfast isn't cold cereal. Cold and impersonal. Call me R. Daneel Olivaw (I did not have to Google that reference).

So Windows has this little shield thingy in the status bar telling me that I need to install stuff. (And I do not, the Doom will descend upon me and fire shall rain from the heavens, and there will be a hail of frogs and a flurry of toads and scattered showers of other assorted amphibians.)

I love how Express Install has this whole spiel accompanying it and Custom Install has absolutely nothing other than an ominous paranthasis-ized Advanced. An Advanced that manages to convey all the menace that would emanate from a large heavily armed and more than slightly deranged religious fanatic (Deranged and religious fanatic, redundant, I know.). That Advanced is saying, “Click me and you’re fucked. Really. Fucked. In an unpleasant manner. Not in a manner involving supermodels and butter. Click the Express Install and you will not have to see you villages burning and hear the lamentations of your women.”

Not feeling up to the task of braving the Express Option. I chose custom and went back to coding. The Update Manager thing works quietly in the background (Insert mental image of a quiet psychopath who has a well founded dislike of the spotlight and prefers the shadows.). In a half hour it is done and up pops this dialog…

That isn’t a notification as much as it is a threat. “Fucking click now or I will fucking restart on your ass in five fucking minutes.” Later, I click. Begone vile dialog. Leave me be. I am busy coding. I do not want a restart interrupting the flow of my thoughts. Later. Go away. Come back in an hour or two.

Ten minutes later.

Mother fucker. Go the fuck away.

Ten minutes later.

Aaaargh. Bastard fucking spawn of the Devil!

“Restart. Or will in five minutes. I need to restart. The ritual need to be completed. I so not think you are capable of sentient, intelligent thought or action. When you click later, you clearly fucking mean that you will change your mind in ten minutes. I need to show you the countdown. Five minutes motherfucker and then I take the decision away from you. You will bend to m y will. Resistance is futile. You will be assimilated.”

Later. Later. Later. Late…

(Three minutes have passed. Tab and Enter. Bad idea.)

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.