Rants

Posts in which I fly off the handle.

Friday, July 28, 2006

I Mean, Really…

OK, Apple, I swear if you don’t morph QuickTime Pro into just plain ol’ QuickTime and make its features a part of the basic OS out of the box, why, I’m gonna....

I don’t know what I’m gonna do. But I sure am going to be annoyed by it.

Here’s my deal (and I’m going to stay in the Mac Universe for the time being)

You buy a Mac. It’s lovely. Sleek, svelte and all kinds of other “good-ly” adjectives. Even if it’s “just” a laptop (laptops all kind of look the same to me, sacrilege, I know), it’s a mighty pretty thing sitting on your desk/lap/tentacles/paws. You fire the bad boy up and even the registration and set up screens are kind of nice. (Am I the only one who digs the music for Tiger’s set up?)

Minor nit pick: Apple, my friends, you could also calm down on trying to push .Mac down my throat as well. This is a minor thing, really, but when I say, “No, I don’t want .Mac right now” I didn’t make a mistake and I really did mean that. “No means NO” and is not an invitation to ask me again.

Anyway, you use the thing for a bit and everything goes swimmingly and then you go to watch a movie trailer or try and re-save out a video file.

Yes, there it is. You want to watch the full screen vid, but you are thwarted because in order to watch full screen QuickTime, you must shell out $29.95 for a QuickTime Pro license. Worse, the program bugs you EVERY TIME you fire up the Player with its little software hand stuck out, begging you to upgrade to Pro.

This is the kind of thing that happens all the time in the Windows world, mind you. I bought Reha a Dell laptop (don’t look at me like that!) and WordPerfect (just the word processor, mind you) and it wants someone to fork over cash for the whole Suite upgrade EVERY TIME you open the program. I could also point to a half dozen other Windows apps that do the same thing. Quicken, for example. Ugh, don’t get me started on how much I loathe Quicken for Windows. Plus, think about all the insane CRAP software that comes on your average PC and you’ll get where I’m coming from. Half of it seems to be crippleware or ads for AOL.

My thing is this. You bought a Mac. You paid a bit extra for it already. Some may say A LOT extra, but these people are dumb, so I ignore them. The price difference borders on negligible to me once you throw in iLife, easy of use, the machine “just working,” no virii (for now) and all that jazz, etc. But granted, you did probably pay a bit more for the gleaming box you have your appendages wrapped around.

SO APPLE, DON’T ASK FOR THIRTY MORE DOLLARS FOR SOMETHING THAT SHOULD BE BUILT INTO THE OS!

Whew! Do I feel better now!

Now it’s a debatable point as to whether QT Pro’s capabilities are such that they are a “value-added” proposition. I think they are and I go ahead and pay for the capabilities and not at all because I like to watch movie trailers full screen. (I don’t really). I think Apple has for the past few years tried to make themselves into a “it’s your media, do what you want with it” type of company. Pimping iMovie, iDVD, GarageBand and iTunes are obvious steps in that direction. And it works. People do stuff in iMovie and parents make DVDs for grandparents. My kids use GarageBand to practice the piano. But in order to really “do stuff” you end up needing QT Pro. It’s massively useful on that front and you really can’t do anything even “semi-pro” without QT Pro. And we’ve already drunk the Kool-Aid, my fruity friends, we’ll be buying sleek, svelte and sexy hardware forever as long as we still have the use of our tentacles to whip out our credit cards at the nearest Apple Store.

So just bite the bullet and include it on every Mac.

Please.

Until then, know that I bought the thing a while ago and I’m still bugged.

And on the Windows front, go ahead and bug them all you want for $30 donations. Seems to me that they are used to it. Plus, putting QT Pro into the OS would be one more thing to differentiate better the Mac platform from Windows. A license for QT Pro in every pot! Unless you were dumb, thought you’d save some cash and bought a Windows box. You have to pay $30 in order to be able to watch the full screen trailer for Mission Impossible III.

And see:

Happy now?

Grumble. Grumble. Grumble.

Monday, November 07, 2005

Seriously, buy HD stock NOW

To whoever re-did our basement last time:

BITE ME. And after you are done biting me, I shall string you up by your appendages with your dumb TWO WIRE (non-grounded) electrical cabling and then I shall stuff your orifices with the fictionally grounded outlets you used down there. I have thus far re-wired the entire basement, except one row of outlets. I hate you, former owners with bad taste in paneling.

Oh, and we have a new record for trips to the Home Depot in one day.

Three.

Yes, I went to the Home Depot THREE times on Saturday. First, in the morning to get my list o’ things I needed for the day. Second time was after lunch and working for a few hours for the things I forgot in the AM run and lastly when I went to get stuff late that night just to round out the “Crap, I need more clamp thing-ys.” Needless to say I was a tad bit embarrassed by this and went to a different HD the last time. Two times is understandable, three just means you should have hired someone to do what you are trying and quite obviously failing to do.

I’m going running in the morning. First time in over a month. I expect it will go badly and I’ll have some great story about coughing up my left lung on Wasatch Blvd. I look forward to telling that in loving detail.

Wednesday, October 12, 2005

Death to all SUVs

When the revolution comes, SUVs will be the first ones up against the wall. I MAY spare the owners of the SUVs if they swear alliegence to me and the promise to drive a Prius forever. But I’m smashing all the SUVs into coffee table sized slabs and selling the slabs as modern art on E-Bay. I know some people have legitimate reasons for owning something as large as a Ford Expedition or an H2, but I KNOW that most people just think they are cool and somehow safer. Never mind the roll over incendents.

Anyway, I love this. Truly I do. Also note the Batman style parking job.

Viva la rivoluzione!!

Friday, October 07, 2005

To the Batcave, Robin!

I’m usually a fairly realxed guy. And as you peruse the “rants” section, you can see that my pet peeves are minor. Really, I almost didn’t even include that section, because I just figured that I wouldn’t even have enough content for it.

But, this kind of crap just about kills me. See that Chevy Avalanche there in the photo? See what it says down on the concrete labeling the space? That’s right, it says “C-O-M-P-A-C-T” you big dumb SUV driving LOSER!

When you have to step up TWO feet just to get into your vehicle it no longer falls into the category of “compact.”

And, what’s with the “batman” style parking job? Why do people, men usually, feel the need to park this way? I call it Batman style. Like, I know that I’m soooo important that when I leave here (a bank parking lot), I will have to depart with such fury and vigor that I can’t afford the time it takes to back out like a normal person. Don’t you see the signal in the sky? Commissioner Gordon needs us! Come Robin!!

The other day I saw a Hummer H2 parked in one of those spaces. It took up once and a half spaces, no lie! Why, people, why?

Monday, October 03, 2005

PETA may have a point

My Mother-in-Law used to live with us. It was a trip and not all that fun, frankly. I think it was harder on her, but there were moments such as the one described below that were not so pleasant for me/us either. She passed into the Great Beyond earlier this year. I cried at her funeral. But I also cry during MasterCard commercials, so let’s not judge too hastily.

Earlier last year (2004) Reha and I are going to go to La Caille with another couple. (Valentine’s Day one day late) Nice dinner, right? La Caille is one them there places with the clothe napkins and tablecloths and no plastic sporks and Everything! The other folks are coming to our house to pick us up at 7. Reservations are for 7:30. Now, Reha had asked her Mom at around 4:30 or 5 what she thought she was going to do about dinner for her and the kids and if we needed to do anything, like run out and pick something up or order a pizza. Marji (Mother-in-Law) said, “Oh don’t worry about it, we’ll be fine,” or something like that. So at about 6:30 or so, she calls down (Reha’s doing her hair at this point, I think) and says, “I think we’ve decided to have fried chicken.” Like from KFC.

So Reha says, (and this is the part that kills me), “Would you like us to go get it?” So now this whole passive-aggressive thing is going on, “That would be great. But y’all need to get ready.” At this point Reha looks at me (I am of course completely dressed at this point, given my utter lack of an ability to be fashionably late) and I say, “OK, I’ll run get it.”

By this time it is 6:45.

So I grab a couple of kids to get them out of the way and scoot off to KFC for a whole mess o’ chicken. BUT, and this is the thing. Reha had sent our oldest and most responsible offspring (Carrie) upstairs to write down EXACTLY what Grandma wants from KFC. This is the child I bring with me, along with a younger brother to help keep an eye on the sacred list. The list says breasts (white meat only, of course), 6 corns on the cob, 1 cole slaw and 3 mashed potatoes and gravy. I still have it and treasure it. I’ve pressed it in my Book of Remembrance Scrapbook along with the rose bouttoneire from Junior Prom, but that’s a whole ‘nother story. Does the sacred list say ANYTHING about extra crispy or original? Nope. Not word one. So I, not even remembering that there is a distinction between the two (duh, yep, I’m THAT stupid sometimes), get original recipe.

Does Marji EVER eat original recipe? Nope, not in a million years. She’s an extra crispy gal from way back.

Oh, and as I am scooting out with children and list in tow at 6:45, the other couple pull up into our very crowded driveway (another story for another day). I say, “I’m getting chicken. I’m not running away! I’ll be back in a flash!”

Chicken is purchased in fairly massive quantities. Think family meal. Think thirty bucks worth of fried bird and accompanying side dishes. It arrives home and is unwrapped and severe disappoint is heard on the part of Marji. Actually, it is beyond disappointment; disgust is more like it. “I’m NOT eating that chicken!” but said with a tone that, had you only been listening and not been able to see the offending chicken, might have guessed from the sound that the chicken breast in question had mold in copious quantities growing on it, was glowing from having been dipped in radioactive sludge, or was dripping urine or some other noxious substance. There is also a tossing (with disgust) motion of the poor dead bird back into the container (one of those big striped buckets) associated with the utterance of the dreaded phrase, “I’m NOT eating that chicken.”

Was there anything really wrong with the chicken to warrant such outrage? No, the chicken was tasty and wholesome, it merely had the wrong consistency of crusty goodness. An offer was tendered (by Reha) to go (or have me go, more likely) and purchase more chicken of the non-offensive variety.

Enter the martyr, “No, I’ll be fine. I’d just make you late. I’m not too hungry anyway.” Which to me begs the question, why, in the name of all that is holy did we not just order a pizza and have the wonders of a modern delivery system take over and bring food to OUR HOUSE? Never mind that now we ARE late, ‘cause the KFC, while pretty close, is still 5-7 minutes away one way and there is the ordering, purchasing and returning of new, extra crispy fowl to take into account. I think it was about 7:20 or so when the unveiling of the foul fowl is happening. (Sorry, couldn’t resist the foul thing.)

But here is the real kicker. According to Reha, but this has yet to be verified in the wild, it is possible that Marji didn’t even like the crust too much. Again, there is speculation, internet rumor sites are buzzing, that she usually just tore the extra crispy skin off and just ate the succulent, tasty goodness inside. She might have just liked the way the extra crispy tastes on the inside better.

AAAAARRRRGGGGHHH.

So one of the high points of the evening, once we finally got to the fancy, schmancy La Caille, was when I ordered the chicken entrée and when it came I got to say, “I’m NOT eating that chicken!” and toss my fork down on the plate. Whee! That was fun. Also that part is untrue. I ordered the prime rib, which was good, no complaints, but I still said the line when it came and got a big laugh. ‘Cause sometimes the truth just isn’t funny enough.

So what is the lesson that we have all learned? Sometimes, even when you make every effort to exercise due diligence, failure is always looming. And, extra crispy. ALWAYS extra crispy.

Duh.

 

Novus

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