At 28 second mark in yesterday's silly youtube, you can hear my computer announce the time. My computer announces the time every thirty minutes.
It's nine thirty, said my computer 15 minutes ago.
What I heard, however, was this:
It's nine thirty.
That's thirty minutes later than the last time I had to come over here and tell you what time it is. And, just like at nine o'clock, you have now allowed another thirty minutes to transpire during which you have made no positive contribution to world at large. You are a piece of shit and if you check your email or stat counter one more time, the authorities are going to come over here and put you in asshole prison.
Oh joy. Now it's nine fifty. Wonder what she'll be telling me in ten minutes.
Monday, April 27, 2009
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13 comments:
I'm not sure that computers should talk. It's just a feeling, really, that No Good can come of It.
I hate dealing with the 'ugly cashiers' at 24 hour supermarkets and hearing "scan the next item", "put the item in the bag" like I'm that stupid.
I wonder if it hears me saying "F*** You" back.
It is now 1:20 ET. Your computer will be with you in ten minutes. Please prepare a nice cheese sandwich with the crusts removed and a glass of V8 Splash because your computer is hungry.
Start > Control Panel > Time Settings > Audio > Disable.
RJ
To be honest, I enabled the function so I wouldn't let time get away from me, so this is a self-induced torture.
It does work to an extent. The miserable thing will scoot my butt off the net and onto The Terrifying Manuscript.
erf.
Get a male computer. They can't tell time but know the baseball scores.
You tend to look at things from an extremely negative perspective. Does your computer also play The Cure at a heavy rotation.
It's just telling you the time, sis. You're not a p.o.s., you just need the proper motivation to get off your ass, rather than delving into pessimism.
Relax, Nietzsche, everything will get better once you put the pen to the paper rather than the fingers to the keys.
I'm being redundant now, I absolutely loathe when I do that, but you get the drift.
Last week I heard an unfamiliar beeping and it was my oven sending me a message across the little screen - (cue scary music)
I second Shanerology's sentiments, Erin.
"Dave Bowman: Hello, HAL do you read me, HAL?
HAL: Affirmative, Dave, I read you.
Dave Bowman: Open the pod bay doors, HAL.
HAL: I'm sorry Dave, I'm afraid I can't do that.
Dave Bowman: What's the problem?
HAL: I think you know what the problem is just as well as I do.
Dave Bowman: What are you talking about, HAL?
HAL: This mission is too important for me to allow you to jeopardize it.
Dave Bowman: I don't know what you're talking about, HAL?
HAL: I know you and Frank were planning to disconnect me, and I'm afraid that's something I cannot allow to happen.
Dave Bowman: Where the hell'd you get that idea, HAL?
HAL: Dave, although you took thorough precautions in the pod against my hearing you, I could see your lips move.
Okay, okay already! I'm done bellyaching!
A hobby perhaps? jemison
I'm very thankful my computer does not tell me how much time I've spend dicking off. Ignorance is bliss.
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