Saturday, January 30, 2010

Seagate

Seagate is a manufacturer of hard drives and “storage solutions.” Yes, this is exactly the same as saying Seagate is a manufacturer of hard drives and hard drives. I know, you’re probably thinking “storage solutions” could refer to flash drives, servers, etc. Well, they’re hard, so they are hard drives. Shut up; I win.

A little history, my first computer, bought for us by my grandmother, was a Packard Bell. That was the computer equivalent of the Space Shuttle Challenger, only seven people didn’t fall out of space, living through the entire ordeal, until crashing into the ocean and dying instantly. My second computer was an IBM. Hell of a machine, I must say, and it went strong for five years, its only limitation was the drastically increasing demand of programs. Then came my Dell. Dell has a history of making low cost computers and providing awesome customer service. After figuring out what each model number meant and learning some Hindi, I realized that Dell was nothing but a scam. Sure, you want a machine that costs little and does just as much, well, Dell is your baby. But when one of the main components fail and you lift the hood to find an abomination (Maxtor hard drive), well you would understand.

This brings us to where I learned about hard drives. Everyone knows that guy who constantly brags about the size of his penis. Hell, he may even have a big penis, but he can’t parallel park worth a shit and the only way he’s parking anyway is if it’s a pull through. Analogies aside, Maxtor sounds tough, looks tougher, but has the performance of the Cincinnati Bengals; they are good about 1 in 20 seasons. Then I bought me an external Western Digital. I know, WD sounds like a high tech phone company and not someone who specializes in “storage solutions.” Yet I have had one of their drives for two years now without problem. Hitachi, despite sounding like an old and respected Japanese actor, also sent me a “storage solution” that performs well to this day, and I’ve been using it for about two years.

The first of the year offered me the opportunity to not play it so safe. It was a time for adventure. Most people vow to lose weight. I vowed to find 365 new things to hate. So far I have 422, the last being Seagate. You see, I like to build my own computers. It’s funny, rednecks can build cars out of tomato cans and ball bearings. Yet they can’t put a PC together which consists of around ten parts fully loaded, and annoyingly refer to the internet as the computer. I first obtained a pirated version of Windows Vista. I figured, hey, I’m a pirate, how ironic that they sell Seagate hard drives. So I have this thing up and running, I’m trucking along for fifteen days. When the Seagate “Storage Solution” decides it’s going to die. I repeat, it was in service for fifteen days. Ever seen that episode of Andy Griffith where that guy breaks into the Mayberry bank, only to find Andy Taylor waiting for him, where he explains that they haven’t been able to get into the bank safe for several years so they had someone install a door on the side? Well, I’m waiting for that bank robber to come along and retrieve my precious files from my impenetrable “storage solution.” Angered, but not finished, I decided to try another Seagate I had lying around (which came free with a bare bone kit I bought). It was dead right out of the package. 2-0.

Yes, I normally back things up. I do this about once a week. Unfortunately for me, I have been so busy with everything I didn’t back up anything on this drive. Gone are Chapters 6, 7, 8, 9 and 10 of my yet to be titled novel. Gone are the second and third parts of my graphic novel. Gone is the Reanimated Dossier. Gone are all those memories, and Seagate’s 5 star rating at Tiger Direct. I fucking hate you, Seagate. I hope your company is bought out by Packard Bell.

Update, five seconds later: In the pro section, I failed to mention that both Seagate drives are completely quiet as advertised. Obviously they are taking full advantage of non-moving parts.

Friday, January 1, 2010

13

I could have saved this for a Friday, but instead I decided to just do it for this particular blog. Aside from the sun, moon and stars, oh, and wolves, the number 13 has significance in every single culture across the world. In Hinduism, a feast is prepared on the thirteenth day of the dead. Oddly enough, there were thirteen people at the Christian Last Supper (Judas being last), as well as the Norse Banquet (Loki being last), not to mention my thirteenth birthday. But who gives a shit? Apparently a lot of people. Superstition leads people to believe this number has more significance than any other. They’re wrong, stupid, and piss me off. I hate them.

No one really knows how it all started, this is true, but I can tell you of the Thirteen Club. It was Friday the 13th, 1881 at 8:13 p.m. when William Fowler invited 12 other guests to dinner in room 13 of the venue. They walked under a ladder, at amongst piles of salt, and thirteen-million other things that were supposedly bad for you. These clubs sprang up all over North America and five future presidents joined their ranks. They did not believe in the ridiculous superstition of unlucky 13. In a cruel twist of fate, none of them survived and it is a documented fact that all of them are dead today. Ironically, the 13 stars of the 1983 film Diner all lost their careers within a thirteen year span. Okay, Steve Guttenberg never had a career.

Fear of Friday the 13th is called paraskevidekatriaphobia or frigganshuthefuckuphobia. Now don't get me wrong, I was a kid once, and I have seen every Friday the 13th film, but unless you're being chased by an undead psycho with a hockey mask and machete, well, nothing to worry about. Right? A study done by the Dutch concluded that accidents on Friday the 13th were fewer than other Fridays, presumably because the Dutch are less intelligent than Americans (which isn't saying much.) In contrast, a British study said the exact opposite, but did not rule out how many of the Brits were driving on the wrong side of the road. Right hand side, idiots.

Even more annoying are people who pretend like the number 13 is lucky. It's not. Colgate University, where they make and study new types of toothpaste and have a rivalry against Crest College, was founded by 13 men with 13 dollars and 13 prayers and 13 articles, blah, blah, blah. There is a huge list of sports celebrities who have worn the number 13 (none of which were the best at anything). The United States had 13 colonies and plasters 13 all over our symbols and currency, yet we're in a recession every 20-30 years. There was also Apollo 13, considered unlucky by many, but they made it back from fucking space, where no one is coming to get you, so I think that is pretty lucky. Serves you right for sending actors into orbit.

In conclusion, I would just like to say that 13 is the age when you become a young man according to somebody. It is also a film about two slutty jailbait junkies. Let us not forget the Glenn Danzig written/Johnny Cash composed song, either. Now taking everything you have learned here, you should be well equipped to go out into the world and disregard the number 13 as just another number lacking any significance whatsoever. If not, well, you're a dumb ass.

Keywords

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