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1.)business
2.)numbers
3.)money
4.)people
.......ok, that laid out, it is time to pursue the meaning of the full ashtray in front of me as I try to find a noncombustible place to lay my everpresent smoke. It is vile to smoke but I have no choice in the matter, driven by complex hydrocarbons. ... The thing is full and the goal is to find ingenious new (to me{weeklly[daily]}) methodologies to keep things cool.
Sony SMC210D6's play music on the compilation of turbo pascal 5.5 as the partial ellipses are drawn on the screen using the BGI interface.. Needs: a shortwave radio at about 4-5 MHz. and of course the venerable turbo pascal integrated environment.
these are subs for the true no-hum real computers of the past which play music on the AM radiio..
The 486DX66 can play its own symponys but upon spectral analysis it will be seen that it emits on the higher energy bands appropriate to its processor clock speed. I have recieved with much incense burning and holiness of pagan idolatry a part of the console of an IBM 360, a panel. steeped in dirt and ruin, with switches and the empty sockets of incandensant lamps long ago slavaged. I am overwhelmed by the terror and fascination of the realization and seek the knowledge of the meaning of the present setings of the address switches, although no doubt long ago perverted by scraphandlers' filthy tentacles. I can only conjecturwe that the planar core memory assy. which I excavated from the mud and slimes (see previous interrogatron test) belongs to this sacred (at the risk of blasphemy) machination. I have truly come as a pilgrim of the holy computer life path to see the evolution as it has flown by, scarecly eliciting a notice, of the data_processing whole deal. Even now I am compelled to keep and preserve (with strictly U.S.A. components) a pair of pdp11/05's, as no heathen offshore part shall defile the pure.
Dangerous talk.
"stimulating rhetoric."
"The theatre of noise is proof of our potential"
But I digress.
The whole point is that tiny spiders now crawl upon and infest the entire
network and are controlled by what seems only to be fractal chance
but what is really unbeknownst to its implementors their own doom.
They are very nosey spiders. they are in your car, listening to
everything you say on your way to work.
it's more fun to compute.
My computer is a shield,
stripping the magnetic field.
(listen now as it is stripped away)
The acolytes chant:
Remember now oh CPU to save the file periodically..
Oh interrupts! call my device oh great machination as I am only
magnetic ink to be printed, read, modified, and upon resolution
discharged to the bit-bucket.
It's more fun to compute.
Computers, more precisely, Programmed Data Processors, have through the pure influence of greed (satan's instrument, played like a bagpipe), come to convolute all reason with intricate details no man alone can grapple with.
The razor sieve of data_processing will cut us all to ribons eventually.
It's happening now. We are sliced into bytes of Boolean existance and
correlated with data of what? No man knows..
Go ahead, load Windows Again..