Saturday, August 06, 2005

Open Letter To My Computer

It appears that our relationship is not improvng. Over the 2 years that we have been together, you have fucked me on an almost daily basis. Why do you hate me? I do not hate you, even though I curse at you rather frequently. That is only because you continue to screw up my life. I think you enjoy it.

It is true that I am not particularly fond of your kind. But do not get me wrong. I am not prejudiced. I dislike all computers equally. It is not because you are a Mac that I find you loathsome from time to time, in fact I think your particular race is more acceptable. At least y'all are nice to look at. I have been fucked over by just as many of your PC brethren over the years as well.

I think perhaps we got off on the wrong foot.

Two years ago I took you into my home. I paid extra for you too! I thought, "This is an investment. You get what you pay for." So I laid down $3,000 for you to come into my life.

Within the first two weeks you had your first "accident". In one of your tempermental rages you decided you wanted a new harddrive and sabotaged all the work I had done so that I would Get a new one for you. I did so. Luckily, I had not done much work in those first two weeks and everything you destroyed was salvagable.

But, with your new harddrive, you were still not happy. You continued to flake out on a monthly basis, destroying my life in the process. Everytime I thought things were "cool" between us, you threw another shit fit and decided not to work.

You are an insufferable little bitch now and then. But what am I to do? I am like an abused housewife, afraid to leave. Without you I'm nothing. I don't have the money to replace you. And I know in my heart you'll change...

We never properly established our roles at the beginning of this relationship. I am your employer. You are my employee. You do work for me and I pay you by giving you a roof over your head, keeping you off the streets.

I am not interested in your life. I don't want to know what you did over the weekend, or hear stories about your family. I do not want to be your friend. You are my employee. Let's keep this on a professional level.

All I ask is that you work!

If you continue to take these random "vacations", have the decency to leave my things behind, so that I may easily gather them and go elsewhere.

I don't know what to do.

I am one strand away from snapping. If you fear for your life, you will learn to be more hospitable. Because I swear to you, on my grave, the next time you decide you want to fuck around with my life, I am going to get analog on your ass and smash you to bits with this Louisville Slugger and toss the scraps to the street below. I kid you not.

This is a warning.

2 comments:

Foilwoman said...

Dave, sweetheart, honey: It's a machine. It doesn't care. It's kind of like the Terminator: it doesn't feel sorrow, empathy, anger, or pity. You can't bargain with it. And whatever machine you buy tomorrow? It will be out-of-date by late evening tomorrow when you get it assembled. Life sucks, then we die. Go have some ice cream.

Anonymous said...

Shoulda gotten a PC, Dave. ;-)

Heh, sorry.

Hope things improve with the computer situation.