Archive for September, 2007


Bobbing for Apple

I don’t know about anyone else but I’m getting a tad fed up with Apple trying to force me to update iTunes on a seemingly daily basis, to the tune of a rather unimpressive 60MB.

Let us remind ourselves that iTunes, now bundled with the perennial underachiever known as Quicktime, is essentially a media player and nothing more – and that much of the time it struggles with that as a raison d’etre as it is – why then must I be offered a 60MB ‘update’ to it on such a regular basis, and perhaps just as importantly, why does it never actually make it any better?

Has Apple never heard of releasing small updates to address minor issues (of which there are many within iTunes) rather than re-releasing the entire package? If you’d bought a house and one of the stairs squeaked when you stepped on it, you wouldn’t go out and buy a new house would you??

Given Apple’s history as a turd polisher of the highest degree, you’d have thought that they’d have managed to buff this particular one to a bit more of a dull shine by now.

This week…

…I are been mainly inconveniencing cyclists.

L

Get over it.

Yes, shock horror, 10 years after her untimely demise Diana is STILL dead!!

It’s time to wake up and realise that there really wasn’t anything particularly special about her – she was just a girl who married the wrong guy – it didn’t work out so she dated a variety of losers, did some charity work, manipulated the media more than they seemed to realise and then died in a car accident.

I’m sure it’s all terribly sad, but not to the degree of requiring some kind of ghoulish national mourning en masse spanning a decade.

Toilet Humour

Was out on a client’s site all day today and got to the point where, somewhat inevitably, a spot of micturation was required. Nipped in to the toilet that they seemingly reserve for visitors and office staff (their largely eastern-European blue collar workforce, who have their own facilities apparently) to find a torn and dusty bag of potpouri hanging from some aging pipework with via the medium of disgruntled string – both had clearly been there for some years and doubtless the potpourri had long since lost all of its original odour.

I noticed a faded label on the torn bag announcing its intentions as “hint of spring” – I figured after that length of time in such uneviable surroundings, “waft of piss” might have been more appropriate.