Technology Pick Ups

If I could rearrange the alphabet, I would put "U" and "I" together. And it would stand for "user interface."

Why Email is like a Penis.

Some folks have it, some don't.
Those who have it would be devastated if it were ever cut off.
They think that those who don't have it are somehow inferior.
They think it gives them power. They are wrong.
Those who don't have it may agree that it's a nifty toy, but think it's not worth the fuss that those who do have it make about it.
Still, many of those who don't have it would like to try it.
It can be up or down. It's more fun when it's up, but it makes it hard to get any real work done.
In the long-distant past, its only purpose was to transmit information considered vital to the survival of the species. Some people still think that's the only thing it should be used for, but most folks today use it for fun most of the time.
Once you've started playing with it, it's hard to stop. Some people would just play with it all day if they didn't have work to do.
It provides a way to interact with other people. Some people take this interaction very seriously, others treat it as a lark.
Sometimes it's hard to tell what kind of person you're dealing with until it's too late.
If you don't apply the appropriate protective measures, it can spread viruses.
It has no brain of its own. Instead, it uses yours.
If you use it too much, you'll find it becomes more and more difficult to think coherently.
We attach an importance to it that is far greater than its actual size and influence warrant.
If you're not careful what you do with it, it can get you in big trouble.
It has its own agenda.
Somehow, no matter how good your intentions, it will warp your behavior.
Later you may ask yourself "Why on earth did I do that?"
It has no conscience and no memory.
Left to its own devices, it will just do the same damn dumb things it did before.

The Story of Micro and Mini

The Story of Micro and Mini Micro was a real-time operator and dedicated multi-user. His broad-band protocol made it easy for him to interface with numerous input/output devices, even if it meant time-sharing. One evening he arrived home, just as the Sun was crashing and had parked his Motorola 6800 in the main drive (he missed the 5100 bus that morning ), when he noticed an elegant piece of hardware escorting her daisy wheels in his garden. He thought to himself, "She looks user-friendly," "I'll see if she'd like an update tonight." Mini was her name, and she was delightful, engineered with eyes like COBOL and a Prime mainframe architecture that set Micro's peripherals networking all over the place. He browsed over to her casually, admiring the power of her twin 32 bit floating point processors and inquired "How are you Honey Well?" "Yes I am well," she responded, batting her optical fibers engagingly and smoothing her console over her curvilinear functions. Micro settled for a straight line approximation. "I'm stand-alone tonight," he said, "How about computing a vector to my base address?" "I will cut out a byte to eat, and maybe we could get an offset later on." Mini ran a priority process for 2.6 milliseconds then transmitted Okay. "I've been dumped myself recently, and a new page is just what I need to refresh my disks. I'll park my machine cycle in your background and meet you inside. She walked off, leaving Micro admiring her solenoids and thinking, "Wow, what a global variable, I wonder if she'd like my firmware?" They sat down at the process table to a top of form feed of fiche and chips and a bucket of baw dots. Mini was in conversational mode and expanded on ambiguous arguments while Micro gave occasional acknowledgments, although, in reality, he was analyzing the shortest and least critical path to her entry point. He finally settled on the old "would you like to see my benchmark subroutine?" but Mini was again one step ahead. Suddenly she was up and stripping off her parity bits to reveal the full functionality of her operating software. "Let's get Basic, you RAM," she said. Micro was loaded by this stage, but his hardware polling module had a processor of it's own and was in danger of overflowing its output buffer (a hang-up that Micro had consulted his analyst about). "Core," was all he could say, as she prepared to log him off. Micro soon recovered, however, when he went down on the DEC and opened her device files to reveal her data set ready. He accessed his fully packed root device and was about to start pushing her CPU stack, when she attempted an escape sequence ...."No, No" she cried, "You are not shielded." "Reset, Baby," he replied, "I've been debugged." "But I haven't got my current loop enabled, and I can't support child processes," she protested. "Don't run away," he said, "I will generate an interrupt." "No that's too error prone, and I can't abort because of my design philosophy." Micro was locked in by this stage though, and could not be turned off. But Mini soon stopped his thrashing by introducing a voltage spike into his main supply, where upon he fell over with a head crash and went to sleep. "Computers," She thought as she compiled herself, "All they ever think of is HEX."