Sunday, May 22, 2005


Not Fooling Around Anymore


A couple of weeks ago, my third el-cheapo inkjet in as many years turned into a pile of useless plastic crap.

I’m not #@%ing around anymore.

My newest printer weighs about 100 pounds, is rated for 30000 pages a month, and takes raw toner refills. With the money saved, I will immediately switch to Dom Perignon for all my beverage needs.

I bought it at a computer show for approximately what 3 cartridges would have cost me for my old inkjet. It sits in a back room, where its bulk and noise don’t bother me, produces crisp text and solid color graphics, fast, and has a network print server and Adobe Postscript built in. It uses more electricity than I’d like, so it’ll be turned off most of the time.


:: Dave Walker 19:27 (EST/EDT) [+]

:: [/tech/computers/os/all]
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One dusty July afternoon, somewhere around the turn of the century, Patrick Malone was in Mulcahey's Bar, bending an elbow with the other street car conductors from the Brooklyn Traction Company. While they were discussing the merits of a local ring hero, the bar goes silent. Malone turns around to see his wife, with a face grim as death, stalking to the bar. Slapping a four-bit piece down on the bar, she draws herself up to her full five feet five inches and says to Mulcahey, "Give me what himself has been havin' all these years." Mulcahey looks at Malone, who shrugs, and then back at Margaret Mary Malone. He sets out a glass and pours her a triple shot of Rye. The bar is totally silent as they watch the woman pick up the glass and knock back the drink. She slams the glass down on the bar, gasps, shudders slightly, and passes out; falling straight back, stiff as a board, saved from sudden contact with the barroom floor by the ample belly of Seamus Fogerty. Sometime later, she comes to on the pool table, a jacket under her head. Her bloodshot eyes fell upon her husband, who says, "And all these years you've been thinkin' I've been enjoying meself."