Riding or being ridden around the island of Rügen, Germany. Other than battling some horrendous winds (thank the Gods I’m on an e-bike), this is a great place to ride a bike, check out scenery, take a boat tour and study German. OYG.
Rant on.
-T
Tom's blog of whatnots and other stuff
Write. Just write. Write more.
Riding or being ridden around the island of Rügen, Germany. Other than battling some horrendous winds (thank the Gods I’m on an e-bike), this is a great place to ride a bike, check out scenery, take a boat tour and study German. OYG.
Rant on.
-T
Subtitle: The Body Of An Email Never Sent?
Exchanges with an old friend about the system we all must live in is getting brighter and brighter, dear worst-reader. Or maybe not. After attempting to part a few worst-words about Marx to my old friend who believes with all his heart that capitalism is alive and well, I started this response. My old friend seems to think that there is an underlying dynamic in capitalism I fail to grasp/understand because I never ran a business, I think economics is pseudo-science at best, and have not really participated in this system since the turn of the century. My first response is usually something like…
…I’ve never climbed Mt. Everest but I know it’s the highest mountain.
All platitudes aside.
The problem that I’m actually having with communicating with my old friend is not really about who knows this or who knows that (about whatever) but instead he has chosen a life of early retirement that is a rival to mine. I do not like rivalry. Where I married well and that enabled my early retirement, he worked his ass off as a retailer only so that he could finally sell his business and then live off of real-estate investments–indeed the modern #Americant dream. All in all, he’s an achieved fellow to my worst-writing lack of publication (other than this blog). On top of that my old friend is a hobby, armchair, maniacal economist who, like I said before, thinks the world economy is fine as long as you understand economics.
All I can say in response is: fcuk economics!
And here’s my latest response.
The only “underlying dynamics at play” is corruption and profitable manipulated ignorance on a mass scale. Corruption, cheating, status-quo and downright reactionary ignorance are truly the only things going on in our life-time. With that in mind, there doesn’t need to be a new Marx because the old one has never been tried in the first place. The reason for that is simple. If Marx’s theory would be somehow used then almost all holders of today’s wealth would have no say in the economy or politics. The reason for that wouldn’t be because the rich are evil but instead because the rich today are UN-EARNERS. Most of the richest people in the world today have their wealth because they have been able to wield a corrupt and bankrupt system that has been enabled post FDR, post 1970s. The old economy rules the $hitshow, dude. Anyone who derives so much wealth from the stock market, considering the state of the so-called economy and how labour has been transferred over the past three decades of globalisation, for example Warren Buffet, does so not because of any great productive ability but instead because he is able to play the system–which is ultimately the opposite of productive. It is a silly game considering how so many very capable people can have so little because they do not wish to play (this game). That you associate this in anyway with freedom is mind boggling to me—but understandable considering the world you grew up in or even worked in and are obviously dependent upon. By-the-buy. Communist states and dictatorships have hijacked Marx’s political theory to their own personal, group-think gain. This is starting to include the US. The ignorant masses—mostly lead by middle and upper-middle class morons who live for consumption—have yielded ALL political power to the un-earned rich. The irony here is that because of a Dollar Dictatorship, America is run by a politburo hegemony of war mongers and cheats—that simply enable those that ONLY inherit or game the system. It has never been more true/real than now how the US was never any different than the Soviet Union fifty or so years ago. The politburo states of America, baby. Btw, Marx isn’t an economist as much as he is a philosopher and the first and only person to have ever really put effort into codifying human (mis)behaviour in the context of labour and capital.
Rant on.
-T
The will to survive driven by convention. The lack of intellect culled by fear. The rearing of nation states reached its nadir. Welcome to your Dollar Dictatorship.
Ok. I’ve been having some correspondence problems of late. A dear old friend of mine–who is an advocate of the lie that is capitalism–and I have a general disagreement on what this nonsense is all about. He seems to think that capitalism is about free markets and the exchange of goods and services. To a certain point I agree with him. But what happens when that point has long been circumvented or surpassed? According to some (intellectuals) capitalism has only one direction that it can go. If that’s true, ultimately that direction leads to where we are today. The only question remaining is: where can it go from here?
Below is my response to an email sent by my old friend who thinks, perhaps, he might have one-upped me regarding my dilettante and hap-hazard defeatism that has made me worst-writer about anything pseudo capitalist. My old friend’s original email follows toot-suite.
Dear Old Friend:
Thanks much for your correspondence. Looks like you’ve really hit a (my) button with this one. So let’s go there, shall we?
Dear Tommy aka worst-writer,
I was reading an article that had some valid points with respect to “capitalism” and the attitudes of those who trounce just about every aspect of it, finding nothing but fault without understanding the complexity of the system and how it works (which is nearly impossible for any individual by the way).
- “The peculiarity of successful free market capitalism is that it has generated enough prosperity that it enables to be sustained an entire segment of the population who are able to devote themselves simply to the pursuit and propagating of ideas. They include schoolteachers, college and university professors, authors of “serious” and “popular” journals, magazines and newspapers, books and Tommy’s.
- “When a writer of a newspaper or magazine article or editorial piece, says at some point that “critics” or “experts” say, invariably among them are “the Tommy’s” whose role in the division of labor is to interpret, analyze, and challenge the ways things are and how they might otherwise be for the better. Most such Tommy’s, if one is frank and direct, have lived in “ivory towers” of academia and the general informational media a good part or even all of their lives. They know little or nothing about the actual day-by-day working of a business, meeting a bottom line to meet an enterprise’s employee payroll, or the need to focus on the consumer satisfactions of others to avoid a loss and maybe earn a profit.
- “Their knowledge of “capitalism” is usually derived, and sometimes exclusively, from reading the earlier and other contemporary critics of the market economy. Businessmen are “exploiters” of workers, “plunderers” of the planet, the greedy “cutthroats” who would sell their own mother for an extra margin of profit, and who reduce all of human life to a financial bottom line. They care nothing for “society,” and make their employment decisions based on racist and misogynist prejudices and biases.
- “This cultivates an arrogance and hubris in many such Tommy’s, the “social critics” of the human condition, that if only they were in charge or if their advice was followed by those holding the reins of political power and decision-making, how much better could the world be made.
- And, third, de Jouvenel, said, there is the implicit resentment by many Tommy’s that the market economy places them at a disadvantage. What is that disadvantage? That the market rewards people for catering to the everyday, “lower” wants of the uninformed and manipulated consumers, rather than they, the Tommy’s, who devote their lives to the “big ideas” – the beautiful, the just, the good, the better – but who have little or none of the recognition or income of the billionaire businessmen who has made his fortune by persuading easily manipulated homeowners that they really needed his “designer” bathroom sink faucet. How morally depraved that the man who could have been the world’s next great music composer has to lower himself to earn a living in the market economy writing catchy television commercial jingle songs.
- “Do not want to own your fortune, they want you to lose it; they do not want to succeed, they want you to fail; they do not want to live, they want you to die; they desire nothing, they hate existence.”
-end-

Pseudo-Reviews begin here.
It’s been a long cold wet winter, dear worst-rider. No. Seriously. The weather has been so dismal the past few months here in the Germania tribe of #eurowasteland that I’ve barely ridden the R&M. Although I’ve been living in the old country for well over twenty-five years now, this past winter season has been extreme when it comes to all things wet and cold. That in and of itself is worth worst-writing about (or am I already doing that on this worst-blog?) Nomatter. Speaking of weather…
I was in The Homeland recently… Can you believe you can call it that now? But perhaps they shouldn’t stop there. Perhaps they should/could call it Orwell’s Homeland. But I digress.
I was in The Homeland last October for a wonderful visit. Spent some beautiful days in Baltimore. That’s right, dear worst-rider. When the police aren’t shooting people and when the automatons aren’t walking around like Zombies, and when the f’n sun shines like there’s no tomorrow, Baltimore is actually a great little city to hang around for a few days. This particular visit left me with the impression that October weather in Baltimore is the best weather in the world. Add to that the fact that once I stepped foot back in the old country, about two weeks after my Homeland visit, it started to rain and didn’t stop until yesterday. I kid you not!
I’ve experienced wet and cold weather living in this part of #eurowasteland. But in my twenty-five years I can’t remember it being this bad. I’m kinda ashamed I didn’t do more worst-riding for the past few months. But I’ve set my riding weather limits to seven degrees celsius and trees being uprooted due to flooding ground water. Yea, limits. (See pic above.)

On the other hand, I can’t help but think this break from the R&M has done me some good. It’s aloud me to readjust my e-bike senses. That is, getting back on the bike after only sporadic use during the past three or four months has allowed me to re-orient myself with it. Not only that but while it’s been in my basement turning a year old I’ve finally started fiddling with its parts. For example, for the first time I adjusted the air shocks–even though I’m not quit sure how-to do it. I also re-adjusted my thud buster seat going back to the middle rubber mount from the highest (hardest) setting. I also have a new rear tire, although that wasn’t my fiddling. And the Bosch system was updated. So let’s go there first, shall we.
Just after returning to the old country last October–in fact, the day I arrived–I was also scheduled to bring my R&M in for a check-up and frame replacement. As pointed out in this pseudo-review, the dealer delivered my R&M with paint damage on the frame. If I hadn’t insisted on having the damage repaired I’m sure that the dealer–and perhaps R&M???–would have gladly let the damage slide at my cost. I say that because, 1) I had to wait something like eight months for the frame and 2) after the dealer finally replaced it and I picked up the bike, they said/claimed the following:
“You know, we replaced that frame, which would normally have cost around five hundred or so in labour, for nothing.”
My response: Whaaaaaaaaa?
I don’t know about your experience with customer service, dear worst-rider, but such a comment is common-place here in #eurowasteland, especially in certain parts of Germany where people really do believe they $hit roses. But enough of my worst-writing vulgarities and limited intellect as a somewhat disappointed high-end e-bike consumer.
So. During this money grubbing check-up my frame was replaced. They also replaced both rear brake pads, which I questioned (more on that in a sec). I also had them install a new rear tire even though it could have probably gone a few hundred kilometres more–but that was my choice. I was thinking at the time that I’d kill two birds (with one stone) and bought a second tire (see pic above where said tire is neatly folded and waiting). I’m now thinking that was an error on account I’m almost sure I want to go with more street oriented tires in the future. Maybe more on that later. They also updated my Bosch system with the new eMTB riding mode. Let me say this about eMTB:
Whoop-di-fcuking do!
In fact, I might even ask the dealer (it’ll be a new dealer by then) if I can return my Bosch system back to the old riding modes. With four modes of riding, I really don’t see the reasoning behind eMTB, which seems to only combine the top three levels of riding. In fact, the other day while going up a short but very steep hill using eMTB the motor kicked a bit too hard and caused a wheelie. To prevent a backward flip I had to jump off the pedals. Indeed. Unwanted wheelies during steep ascensions… I’m gettin’ too old for that $hit.

As far as the brake pad replacement goes, there is a problem with the rear brake calliper on my R&M. In my opinion, the frame mounts are not properly aligned for this calliper setup. The brake pad that is on the outside of the disk is always rubbing. I know this because the rear wheel never spins freely. Although there is a way to adjust the position of the calliper on the frame mounts, it can’t be moved enough to one side to prevent the rubbing on one of the pads. Once I get a new dealer, I’ll be addressing this issue. Otherwise I’ll be replacing pads mostly because of this unnecessary rubbing.
Actually I don’t have anything more to say about the tires on this bike. I love them. So I might just go one more set and then go to street tires. I don’t know. I’m confused about tires.
The front forks have no manual.
The pic above is a screenshot of the CD that was delivered with this bike that is supposed to contain an owner’s manual for my forks. The only problem is, there is no manual. The good news is that my bike was delivered with a cute little air pump specific to these forks. This is helpful because they are springless air forks. If, by accident, you let out all the air–which I did–you’ll need this pump to get going again. Either that or you’ll have to ride home with useless, impotent front forks. (Sounds worst-rider erotic, eh!) And there is one other problem. Because there is no user manual for the forks, how much pressure can I put in them? Since I fiddled around with air forks back in the day when I was a real-man motorcyclist–as opposed to a wuss on an e-bike–I figured I could fill the forks till they don’t move anymore, which I think was around 150psi. Right now I’m running something like a 100psi and they’re still a bit hard. Or is it 10psi? Who the fcuk cares. And you know what they say about hard (forks) and men in their fifties, right? Ok. Enough.

Btw, my better-half’s R&M Mixte is definitely gonna skip the eMTB Bosch update. The main reason is because the update seems to be just another gouging mechanism for dealers. You see, Bosch doesn’t charge for the update. But dealers do. Go figure. Also. The Mixte is mostly used on roads, so it really doesn’t need eMTB.
In the last few days I’ve been able to go on longer rides with my GX, even though off-road is still very very wet–in fact so wet that even my extra wide tires sink a bit much for my taste. We’re planning a new tour up on the Baltic Sea at the end of May, though. We’re looking at about ten days of riding and maybe 1500km along the German north coast not far from Poland. Looking forward to it.
Oh. As far as battery life goes… I’m gonna have to worst-write something about that (again) soon. Reason? During the first 2000km I could go 30km before the first notch on the battery gauge would disappear. Now I can barely go 15km. After questioning a dealer about this he said that as soon as it gets warmer I should have all the power back. I’m skeptical. Even though the Bosch e-bike motor is great and I trust the Germans engineered it well and Hungarians put it together well, the battery–or the batteries–is a different story. Indeed. Batteries are the weak link here. But I digress.
Good riding, baby.
Rant on.
-T
It’s been another busy worst-day, dear worst-reader. It started with early day chores having something to do with goodies for evening grub consumption. The joke is always on me, though. Reason? I’m the one that has to prepare the evening grub. And I’m no good at getting the grub. But at least I can cook it. Nonetheless. Let’s go there, shall we? The pic (above) with the noodles fails to contain the broth of my bi-montthly Japanese soup night. Nomatter. The other pic is of a Mini I checked out and test drove today. Although I’m no advocate for cars in this f’d-up world, I’m not anti-auto. They are quite useful. The thing is, I’ve been living with leased corpo cars for the better part of twenty years. You know what? Corpo cars suck. (But that’s a whole ‘nother post.) I haven’t owned a car since… way back when. But I have been driving lots. And not just driving. I’ve been driven on German f’n Autobahns. And you know what? German Autobahns… suck. You want to know why? They suck because, well, these f’n Germans just started building them. Seriously. They just started building them, like, yesterday. And you know what that means? It means traffic traffic traffic traffic traffic, etc. Of course, leasing corpo cars in Germania is an industry für sich. With that in mind, I’m tired of leasing these damn redundant things so I can get stuck in traffic. And so. Since we want to be able to travel around Europe on e-bike vacations and we’ve long since realised that we can’t do this with trains, we’ve decided to go the route of actually buying/owning an f’n car. Hence we had Japanese soup tonight and I test drove a 2017 Mini Clubman. The trick with this particular vehicle is that it has a AHK (Anhängerkupplung). You know, one of those tow-bars installed. That way we can take our f’n e-bikes with us when we buy one of them/those things that attach to the tow-bar and we can put the bikes on it. And before you consider barking at me (us) for traveling with e-bikes with a car, we would rather do it with the train but that just ain’t possible on account the f’n German trains are a bitch bitch bitch–and the f’n things never run on-time anymore anyway. But I digress.
Rant on.
-T
The car, I’m guessing, is the remains of a Trabant. Anyone remember the Trabant? Oh I remember them well. In fact, sexual relations in one was as good as when I did it for the third time in a 1972 Beetle–and it was 1980. My stepfather was furious the next day as he drove that Beetle to work on account his car was kaputt. When he came home he interrogated me about the foot prints on the ceiling. He had measured them, you know. He had deduced that they could only be the footprints of a young female and he knew that I came home that night from a evening with a lady-friend. He even added that my lady-friend was probably experiencing some abnormal on wear on the large ball of both her feet. Wearing too many high heels, that one, he said. And so. I suppose the Trabant in the pic, including the innards of a broken tree on the Rhine, leda me down that stairwell to have a peek. Should have left it.
Rant on.
-T
The pic I want to comment on is the one with Yogi Bear. I was pumping gas into my rental car a few weeks back and what I thought was a dead screen suddenly came alive and Yogi wanted to sell me something and I thought: the scavenging scrapers of the rotten innards of the barrel of #Americant has no pause in facilitating college grads in the name of edumacation and yet this is all they can come up with? Indeed. The reason there is so much failure in this world, the reason everything is so WORST, is because this is all that’s left in order to maintain the historical wealth of old people who’ve never achieved in their lives–they’ve only inherited from other old people–and someone has to pay for that. Or maybe not. Whatever, baby.
Consume to survive.
Rant on.
-T

Returned from The Homeland last Monday. It was a horrible trip. It was horrible because, of the two weeks I was there, after doing some yard work for my Mom, I contracted a pretty bad skin ailment from poison ivy. In fact, as I worst-write this, two weeks after returning, I’m still itching. (But it is getting better.)
I arrived Sunday late afternoon in The Homeland (can you believe there is a govt. agency called that) and drove three hours south along the Atlantic coast till I reached my widowed mother. As usual she was glad to see me. As usual I was glad to see her. But more important I was glad to provide her with a bit of companionship. My mother is not only getting old but after the death of her husband a few years back, she’s now quite the lonely soul. After an evening’s nightcap and a few shared thoughts on our lives spanning an ocean, my first night of sleep in my mother’s house was preoccupied with a damn film I had seen on LH426 to PHL only few hours earlier.
Say what you will, dear worst-reader, about movies shown on the limited space of tiny flat screens on the back of airline seats. And, like audio and music, I’ve learned to cope with all things cheap when it comes to consuming media. Put another way, I don’t mind if I’m seeing or hearing a piece of art that was meant for the big screen on a krappy little screen, including krappy audio. I’ve learned up to this point in life that in the arts, especially the art of story telling, presentation can take a back seat–if and when it must. In this case, the film “The Shape of Water” got my full attention during the flight and thereafter–even while shown on a really krappy screen. In fact, I couldn’t help but preoccupy my mind with the movie while battling the discomforts afforded us all as we travel in/with an industry run by college grad automatons who obviously can’t manage their way out of wet paper bags–which is more proof why not only the airline industry but #Americant is in a perpetual state of bankruptcy. But then again, that’s why I almost never fly US carriers. Go figure.
That’s right, dear worst-reader. The airline industry… Or better put: the human cattle transport industry hasn’t changed in the quarter century I’ve been using it to cross the Atlantic while living as a miserable expat. So when a two hour film can captivate me and take my mind away from $hitty service, $hitty seats, rattling fuselages and stinking compatriots stuck in the same coach-class hell, I’m all for it. And that’s the ticket of these friendly skies, ain’t it?
The Shape of Water is the best film I’ve seen in years. It’s also the first film I’ve seen in years that I think deserves an Oscar–which it won a few days before my trip. In fact, like so many others and just like with so many things that were once about achievement in the arts, this was the first film in a while I thought even deserved to be up for any kind of formal recognition. That’s how bad movies have become in this age of breaking billion dollar box office records with perverted sci-fi and action genre krapp galore! And if I put some effort into it, the only winner of an Oscar that comes to my worst-mind in the last twenty years is Charlize Theron for the film Monster. Now. Monster, the movie, actually sucked. But Theron’s acting was f’n brilliant.
A little side pseudo-review. Although I focused my mind mostly on having seen The Shape of Water, I did skip through Charlize Theron’s Atomic Blonde while my flight was on final approach to PHL. What a $hitty, unoriginal, boring movie. No different than James Bond, Jason Bourne, Austin Powers, etc. OYG. Hollywood can’t get it’s mojo back even when regurgitating a film albeit with a hot blonde in the fighting lead. Oh well.
Back to one of the best movies I’ve ever seen.
Considering what Hollywood has done to movies in my life time, I think that movie making needs to be (finally) turned back over to creative people again. That’s right, dear worst-reader. I am assuming that movie making once belonged to creative people. What has brought Hollywood to where it is today, I won’t attempt to worst-write about here. It’s just that, well, Guillermo del Toro has to be the most creative person in Hollywood in decades. Seriously. Did you see Pan’s Labyrinth? If not, see it now. Unless, of course, you’re anti-creativity and stuck on stupid comic book characters with capes and masks and platitudes. Anyhoo. Guillermo del Toro’s The Shape of Water is piece of work that makes the likes of Spielberg, Cameroon, and whatever blockbuster action move director you can name, look like what they are: $hit! My hat is off and I bow deeply to creativity and Guillermo del Toro for this film.
That said, spoiler alert.
There are so many small issues I have with this film, I’ll not worst-write them all here. Reason? No need to. The movie is just good. Real good. And that’s all that matters. Instead, I’ll go back to my expat cubby-hole and continue the expat dream of living a life like any screwed-up archetypal patriarch should live. Alone and only available to fantasise about how things could be if only a God could be found in a swamp in South America that could/should save us all from ourselves.
Rant on.
-T

Subtitle: Facebook’s Mark Zuckerberg, Gawker’s Peter Thiel and #Trump’s comb-over should suck each other till there’s nothing left of all.
Disclaimer: This post is NSFW because of some harsh language. Good luck with that and sorry if I offended you before this warning. (Not!)
You know, dear worst-reader, you should ask me. (Pause.) In fact, everyone should ask me. (Short pause.) I mean, obviously, it’s gonna take longer than I may have (on this earth) to get to where I’m alluding, but eventually someone should realise: Hey! We should have asked worst-writer about this!
Worst-reader: But what should we ask, dear worst-writer?
Of all the bull$hit going on with Facebook right now and some right-wing bat$hit company called Cambridge Analytica that managed to take advantage of a bunch of really, really stupid people that should never have been allowed on the Interwebnets in the first place–which is only reason for a Facebook–one very important issue is not being discussed. That issue is nothing more than… What’s left of the tech boom brainiacs and worthwhile automatons that made #Americant great again. I mean. Is it me or do only the $hitheads remain (in Silicon Valley and elsewhere) and they are all scrapping the walls of the rotting barrel till there’s no tomorrow? In other words:
Mark Zuckerberg is a moron. Whaaaaa? Don’t believe me? Ok. Hold a sec.
If, according to his stock price and/or bank account, Zuckerberg is a success in what’s left of the new economy that has been decimated by the old economy post Dotcom boom, boy are we (you) fcuked. I know that’s probably not a very difficult assertion to deal with right now–on account #Americant is really, really full of morons considering President Stupid’s election–so let me just throw this out there to get things moving.
Indeed. There are types of money, aren’t there?
With that in mind, I’m once again perturbed how the press is dealing with all the bull$hit STILL coming out of the 2016 election. I mean, Facebook this or Facebook that…? Now Facebook is connected to a $hitbag company named Cambridge Analytica that wants personal information in order to manipulate elections. Whaaaaaa!
I don’t know about you, dear worst-reader. How much more stupid can you take? (Obviously you can take a lot more.) Whether it’s Russia hacking everything, #Trump colluding with jerk-offs to get dirt on Hillary or, God forbid, Hillary’s Benghazi and emails… Nomatter what happens the thing that need be discussed, isn’t being discussed. Oh wait. Pause. Stormy Daniel’s 60 Minute interview is on the Interwebnets.
Worst-reader: But what should be discussed, dear worst-writer?
Well, that’s an easy one. Most of my beloved #Americants problems could begin to be solved toot-sweet if all republicans are given the boot. That would mean that a super majority congress of Democrats–all of which should eventually be replaced with even lefter Dems–should run the $hitshow for at least three presidential elections. During that time, #Americants can reboot the Republican Party, replacing all republicans with candidates that reject religion in government, respect Row v Wade and require gun control that somehow–and this is a doozy–only put guns in the hands of people that can pass a literacy and cooking test given by nine woman, five of which are married and the rest are either single, lesbian or certified Harley mechanic(s). Or something like that.
But I’m off subject (again).
The thing(s) that should be discussed. For real, this time.
The thing that should be discussed is if companies like Facebook, Über, Amazon, etc., should be held to a higher level of scrutiny due to the sensitive nature of personal information that they all are gathering about their users–because users are so f’n stupid. That is, either these personal-data companies should be watched and regulated or there needs to be a law guaranteeing that personal information, no matter what platform has it, always belongs to the person (that created it). Put another way. Anything that I put on the internet, a comment, a blog post, a rant, or even activating a “like” button, etc., etc., belongs to me. Only I determine the use of that information. But perhaps I’m going too far. I mean, come on dear worst-reader. Can you actually imagine a moment in time where a law is made that protects an individual above a corporation?
We back in medieval times, don’t you know.
More that should be discussed.
And now lets move on to Peter Thiel being a useless, filthy rich schwanzlutscher-mutterficker who deserves as much ridicule as moron Mark Zuckerberg–or President Stupid. I mean, come on. Is it me or are all the slime-ball rich jerkoffs coming out of their holes at this point in fail-upwards #Americant? Who are these people anyway? Well, I’ll tell ya. These men deserve ridicule? They deserve it so much I wish it would make them go away–far away. They are obviously rich-stupid-fcuks who never gave much thought what do with their money other than waste it, make more of it, use people with it, screw some one, screw everyone! If you don’t recall, dear worst-reader, here’s a recap of Peter Thiel.
Peter Thiel is the mutterficker who, out of spite, put a really, really $hitty website out of bidness. Seriously. In fact, he didn’t just put it out of bidness. He now actually owns it. And don’t get me wrong, dear worst-reader. I have no sympathy for Gawker. I don’t care that Gawker existed and I especially don’t care that Gawker’s now gone (or owned by Thiel). What I care about is what got rid of Gawker. I care about the fact that this world somehow produces the likes of Peter Thiel who can spend a hundred million dollars out of spite to get rid of a bunch of jerk-offs that published $hit he didn’t like. Talk about gay-on-gay bitch-fighting! Thiel’s actions—and this coincides with Zuckerberg’s actions—prove that if anyone deserves to be $hit on with words, these guys do–including President Stupid. Look what these a$$holes do with their money. And that’s why it’s called: #Americant.
Btw, there’s more to discuss.
Mark Zuckerberg sold hundreds of millions of dollars in stock last week. Just look at a chart of the stock price of Facebook in February and March of 2018 and how it obviously correlates with the krapp revealed about his company and how it was involved in an election. Of course, as usual, all of this is convoluted with the idear that Zuckerberg and his wife are selling stock to finance their charity. Yea, right. Which begs the question. Insider trading anyone? Come on!
This probably isn’t worth discussing but what the hell. A bit more on Thiel.
Some years ago Hulk Hogan was on the verge of losing a defamation lawsuit that he couldn’t afford to finance because a “friend” of his made a sex tape of him getting a sympathy fcuk from said friends wife. That tape was accidentally aired by Gawker. Peter Thiel, an angry gay man that was outed by another angry gay man (at Gawker) stepped in and gave Hogan’s lawyers $100m and Hogan won the case. What a constructive use of money, eh! (Sarcasm off.)
What kind of human being is Peter Thiel or Mark Zuckerberg? Thank goodness most rational thinking people know what kind of human being President Stupid is (unless, of course, you fail to grasp the intimacy of a comb-over). If a guy like Thiel can turn personal spite into such a weapon because words were used that he didn’t like, can he also not do something worthwhile with (his) money? And can’t Mark Zuckerberg just continue connecting people that want to hook up or, what the hell, connect people who can’t grow out of high school?
Let me cut to the chase.
Is there no one out there that could do the same with their money to sue the pants of Facebook for how it abused so many more people than Hulk Hogan’s sympathy fcuk sextape and thereby, perhaps, save #Americant democracy? I mean, Facebook dished out a Krapp load of personal information to a company that then sold it to politicians who thought they could use it, take advantage of it, and make some political gain. At the least, they got their #Trump, i.e. President Stupid. Man, all this $hit that’s going on is so overwhelming (or at least should be) that it’s not even worth discussing what politician it helped or hindered. On the other hand, Facebook users click “ok” every day allowing themselves to become a product—while they think they are hooking up with regressive high schoolers that are otherwise too stupid to use the Interwebnets.
What the hell am I worst-writing about? This Krapp is happening in the Polit-buro united mistakes of #Americant. Of course it is. It’s what is deserved. It was has been earned generation after greed generation.
Rant on.
-T
Links that motivated this post:
First pseudo-review of this sort of stuff here.
Been fiddling around with audio for a few years now. About a decade ago, well into my forties, I made the mistake of purchasing a surround sound system. It was some ginormous thirty-pound, seven channel, only God knows how to setup system and after a few years the only thing I got out of it was hate. I hated having to run some fancy automated sound test with a microphone to set up the speakers. Once setup I never had the feeling that the super fancy microphone that came with it even did the right job. I hated the crossover between the speakers and the amp, especially when it came to the seven-hundred watt subwoofer that I had attached to it. And don’t get me started on the hate I have for audio encoding whether multichannel, DTS, Dolby, HD, blah, blah, blah. All in all, I was glad to finally get rid of that thing, practically giving it away after only three people bid on it. The one thing I did get out of dealing with that krapp for a few years: I love stereo. I missed plain old fashion music coming out of two speakers. Indeed. Listening to great audio doesn’t have to be a big deal–and it doesn’t have to be expensive either.
Although there was a bit of a struggle for a short while regarding whether or not my future listening needs would be analog or digital, I quickly came to realise that I didn’t care about either. The only thing I was sure about was that I no longer wanted multi-channel and I don’t want to use headphones. That’s right. There’s only one other type of sound I hate more than multi-channel sound. I hate listening to music through headphones. Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that headphone don’t sound great. I’ve heard them here or there. Some of them are mind-blowing. It’s just that the immediate connection between ear and source has always bothered me. There’s just something wrong with having my ear-drums so close to the source. I mean, when I’m at a concert I don’t put my ear up to the stage or even the amps. But there’s no reason to nitpick. I get it why some Das Volk love headphones. As far as I’m concerned, more power to y’all!
Btw, when I say analog or digital I’m referring mostly to amplification and media storage. With that in mind, I did side with the digital world even though I discarded my ageing CD player when I got rid of my multi-channel AV system. I consider myself digital because, well, I’m not getting a vinyl player or going back to cassettes anytime soon. And so… As long as I can rip CDs or download purchased music, I have no need for physical or analog media. (Wow. I hope I’ve gotten that right!) On the other hand, I haven’t bought any new music in years. Seriously. In the last five or so years, I think I’ve purchased three albums on Amazon. Otherwise, my music collection is basically ripped new, used, traded CDs from when I was young. The music is served with Plex and sometimes (my wife) iTunes.
Almost a speaker review.
This worst-post, i.e. this pseudo-review, is supposed to be about having purchased a set of Pioneer SP-BS22-LR Andrew Jones speakers–but it’s also about having achieved my dream audio system… ON THE F’N CHEAP. According to the Interwebnets, the BS22’s are some of the best speakers you can buy for the least amount of money. And the Interwebnets ain’t wrong! The only problem with these speakers is they are not for sale in Europe. And I didn’t want to have them sent to The Old Country thereby taxing the heck out of ’em. After all these years of living in Germania and having to deal with import taxes, customs, etc, I never order anything from abroad anymore. It’s just a hassle galore, don’t you know. Since I frequently travel to The Homeland…
Full stop. Can you believe the US has a government agency named Homeland? I mean, Orwell anyone?
After reading about these speakers and their specs, measurments, etc., I thought I could easily transport them back to The Old Country on a return flight. And guess what? It was easy-peesy to do just that. I made sure I traveled with the largest suitcase I own, though, because these speakers are a bit bigger than I thought–especially when you first see the box they are delivered in. But after opening them, giving them a feel and hug, I realised discarding the original packaging and getting them in my luggage wrapped in the cushion of my dirty underwear and rotting socks, they should be fine. In fact, other than a very slight dent in the fake wood vinyl covering on one of the speaker’s edges that is barely noticeable, they made it without a scratch. Needless to say I was tickled to hear them for the first time when I got back to my expat home. That’s right, dear worst-reader. I had no way to test them in the US. But hey. For a set of refurbished speakers from you-know-who online, what the hell.
Speakers in use by worst-writer.
The Pioneer SP-BS22-LR speakers are cheap. I paid $90 for them plus tax. For that kind of money they are twice as good as the Audioengine P4’s and are a tick better than my ageing B&W 305s towers. I even have the feeling that the little Pioneers are better at bass than the much taller, beefier B&Ws that have six inch woofers. But then again, I’m not a bass fan.
As you can see in the pic above, the BS22’s are attached to a TEAC A-H01 amp. The amp drives the speakers beautifully no matter what the source. In my case I use either USB (PC), fibre-optic (Apple TV) or analog cinch (Pi). Which brings me to the other magic of this low cost audio system. Although the TEAC does have a USB DAC and I can easly attache my MacBook to it, my main audio delivery system is a Raspberry Pi (model 2 B) and a HifiBerry DAC+Pro with analog cinch cables streaming via Ethernet from a Plex server.
I stream music from a Plex server in my basement via ethernet. After sorting out the power needs of the Pi–problem solved with a dedicated 5v 3amp micro USB power source–these new speakers have given me a feeling of closer for this system. Although I have plans of fiddling more with HifiBerry’s and cheap Class-T amps in the future, this setup in my work room (also my main listening room) is now my audio galore dream come true.
Total cost of work-room audio system dream come true for a small office or bedroom.
And so… Listen closely to Miles’ lips on that trumpet.
Rant on.
-T
Been fiddling with a Raspberry Pi 2 for a while now to get the best sound possible to a save-some-money audio system. Even though these little, credit card sized mini-computers are über rocking cool, the only thing I can figure them for is as clients for servers. I currently have two running. RPI 3 is a media client and the RPI 2 is the same, albeit with with a HifiBerry DAC+ Pro is mostly for my audio listening needs. For example, as I worst-write this I’m listening to Robert Plant’s Dreamland. Oh. And before I forget: More on audio on the cheap here.
Although I was able to get the Hifiberry to work from the get go, there was always some software adjustments that it needed and since I’m really, real lazy when it comes to software stuff, it’s taken me a frustrating while to fish through it and not just get some get-go but get it going get-go real well. Which brings me to this post. As you, dear worst-reader, may not note from the pics above, two pics were taken while on a relaxation, i.e. clear head walk in order to figuring out how to configure the config-txt file on both RasPlex and Volumio so that the sound card (Hifiberry) can take full advantage of the RCA cables from it. Then all I had to do was set the client software (i.e. RasPlex) to send 92khz signal (it’ll go up to 196!) through the Hifiberry Dac and bing-bong, whoopsidaisy. Then the next problem.
While on the walk to clear my head, I saw a dead bird and a fishing lure where no bird or lure belonged. The lure belongs no where near the friggin Rhein River where I was walking. In fact, that is not even a river, lake or fresh water fishing lure. But what do I know about fishing–I’m on my third marriage or so? As far as the dead bird goes, I couldn’t help but stare at the thing for a long while wondering if there was a connection. Indeed. I first saw the lure then the bird. On top of that, the bird somehow looked familiar to me. But, like the lure, I couldn’t place it or how it got there. Nomatter.
The remaining pics are from the damaged package I received from you-know-who. I had ordered two 5 volt 3,3 amp powers sources for my RPI/Hifiberry setup. As you may or may not know, RPI require only 5 volts of power. The amperes of the 5 volts, though, determines what you can run with or, as in this case, on the RPI. It seems that the error that I was consistently getting from both RPIs was due to electric inefficiencies. I had been running both PIs using old iPhone USB chargers and whatever USB A to USB micro that I could find. The RPIs weren’t getting enough electricity. These new powers sources seem to have solved the problem. Audio is fantastic. Thank you Robert Plant!
Rant on.
-T
PS Of the USB pic, the one on the left is the proper micro connector. It’s both longer and, because it’s transformer is permanent, seems to provide optimal 3 ampere power to the RPI with the HifiBerry DAC+ Pro, which requires more than an RPI without it.
PSS My next project is to try another RPI 3 with the HifiBerry Amp2.
Don’t you hate it when that happens? This particular wheel lasted for well over ten minutes–until I forced a restart on my MacBook Air 7,2. This is but another reminder of how much I’m gonna enjoy making this my last Apple hardware purchase (I spitefully hope). As far as MacOS goes, Apple has really dropped the lead ball and shown its corporate intentions with this once great computing platform. Obviously iOS is the future (for Apple). And that’s all fine and dandy–if you don’t mind obnoxious closed eco-systems and pseudo-computing. I’m just too old for that sort of thing. Seriously. I tried iOS. I purchased an iPad4 from Apple US refurbished store about three years ago. I used it on and off for about a year, testing if it could replace my 2010 13″ MacBook Pro. I bought a keyboard for it, too. Even typed a few thousands words on it. But was seriously no match for a real computer. The new iPad Pro is another story. My better half has one. Other than her work’s krappy use of spreadsheets and closed eco-system corporate communication, she uses her iPad for everything. It has replaced her use of a PC. My problem is, even after trying an older iPad and still using an iPhone is different. I just don’t like iOS. System upgrades on that platform are worse than on regular computing platforms. I’m assuming the reason for that is simple: they got you more by the balls with their closed eco-systems then they do with real computers. With every iOS update (especially on my iPhone 6s) I’ve never actually seen any improvement in the device. The only thing you get is the/a need to replace what Apple is making obsolete. Btw. When I started computing it was all about owning a device. It was about data being mine. It was about me being part of something as an individual. The thing is, I’m seriously not impressed anymore with the industries move away from personal computing to collective, eco-system digital consumption. But then again, I haven’t been impressed with an OS since I moved from WinXP to Mac Snow Leopard about ten years ago. With that in mind, I suppose my time is up. Indeed. Time to move on from Apple. Time to figure out how not to follow trends. I guess.

The pic above is from a system downgrade I did recently on my ageing MacPro which serves as my home network server. I was upgrading drive capacity and decided to do a clean install. I used to do them every year so this one was long overdue. While erasing and cleaning disks, I installed Snow Leopard 10.6.3 (yes, from original disks) for the heck of it. Nostalgia rules, baby. And boy does it still work great. Since I mainly use this device as a “headless” server for iTunes, Plex and file sharing, it’s not possible to keep Snow Leopard running. Also, even though I boot El Capitan from a PCIe SSD on the motherboard, the important stuff is on old fashion spinning drives. Apple’s High Sierra is using a new file system specifically for SSDs. Sure, the new file system will work with old spinning drives. But I’m not going there on this device. El Capitan is the end OS for this great machine which no existing NAS can replace. After it no longer works, then maybe I’ll just finally get to install Snow Leopard and do lots of nostalgic fiddling or maybe even turn it into a fish tank.
It’s such a shame that Apple and its Macintosh has gone down the road of suck.
Rant on.
-T

Don’t know why, but I’m totally into collecting these phishing emails. Here’s another one I got a few months back. Of course, when I get them I think of two things. One, of course, is to make sure I don’t click the wrong links in the email. The second is, …ha ha ha ha ha! John Podesta clicked one of these links and directly partook in the dumbing down of my beloved #americant. Wow. Rant on.
-T
Struggling, dear worst-reader. Struggling. It is so wet here–here in worst-writer country–that one can feel it in the bone(s). In fact, one of the warnings from all the extreme weather has been to watch out for falling trees. Parks have been closed, don’t you know. The ground is so wet from so much rain that trees tear out easily from gusting winds galore. But let that not stop us, eh. For our path is set, the journey we must make, or maybe not. And so…
Rant on.
-T

Subtitle: Pseudo-Review Of .99€ Movie Rental The Founder
Almost didn’t make it, dear worst-reader. If it would have come to pass, this would have been the second movie I rented on iTunes but never watched. Luckily I had a few days left when I hit the play button last night. By-the-buy, iTunes (Germany) gives you around 30 days to watch a movie once you hit that rent-button. Once you hit the play-button, you have forty-eight hours to watch your movie. What the other movie was that I rented but didn’t watch I can’t remember. Apple got .99€ from me all the same. But that’s all butter under the bridge. And speaking of bridges…
How does a blah-blah movie about an a$$hole end up being a mediocre film about the invention of fast-food? Oh wait. This movie isn’t about fast-food. This movie is about a shinning star of #americant business acumen. Right? (Sarcasm off.) Well, the one thing to keep in mind about this Harvey Weinstein production is, like a severe burn on the inside of your fingers, all you gotta do to help things be less excruciating is to put some butter on it. Butter makes everything better. Except in the fast food industry on account butter is too expensive to work with–almost like real milk was too expensive for Milkshakes (for a while).
The Founder is the story of how Ray Kroc screwed two guys out of a really interesting idear about how to feed a hungry nation of automatons–most of whom are only interested in not having to cook a meal. Other than avoiding the reality of showing the world how much of an a$$hole Kroc was, this movie actually spends the first twenty minutes making one feel good about the invention of fast-food. Oh, and if you’re so inclined and only have a few months left in your MBA studies at the University of Cocksuckers, this is one great film to watch if you need a case study that is about nothingness.
Although there are moments of reality regarding the a$$holery of the pyramidal franchise business which Kroc sucked up to, this movie gets lost between showing the real founders of fast-food magic and the cut throat reality of making more than a buck on someone else’s dime. So I guess, in a righteous universe where wrongs are outed, this movie could be called Watch Out For A$$holes Because You’re Living In A World Of Them. And with that in mind, here is worst-writer’s take on this movie in-short: there is no redeeming value in either the movie or what Ray Kroc achieved in his life. And if you want to know how to make a buck off subject matter with no redeeming value, ask Harvey Weinstein.
Rant on.
-T
PS The performances of the actors in this movie is outstanding. The writing though sucks batballs and the only thing that could have saved it is if worst-writer had written it.
Subtitle: What The Ancients Forgot In Their Writing Of The Dystopian Future We Live In Now.
Since we are in this place dear worst-reader, this dystopia place so well designed and executed (but by whom), let’s have a moment or thrice to worst-write about fear, i.e., that which rules (us). I’m not one to say I fear nothing. I am afeared aplenty. Snakes, for example. I can’t stand them. Small and tight spaces is something else I can’t stand (platzangst). And then there’s my fear of height. Actually I don’t really suffer from a fear of heights. Instead I have a fear of distance. Specifically, I fear distance between my feet and the ground–and, in some cases, I fear the distance between smart people and stupid people. (But that’s all another post.) And then there’s one last fear I shall not forget. Perhaps this is the most important fear of them all. That’s right, dear worst-reader, I fear The Female. Better put, I fear the wrath of woman scorned. Yea, baby. Now that’s something to run away from–unless, of course, you’re a fan of comb-overs. And while on the topic of fear (and comb-overs), have a look at this to begin the process of dealing with the dystopia you’ve been putting-up:
Nationally, Clinton picked up 54 percent of women voters compared with Trump’s mere 42 percent. But Trump outperformed Clinton among white women, winning 53 percent of voters in that demographic. Drilling down further, he beat Clinton among white women without college degrees by 27 points. In the three states that decided the election — Wisconsin, Pennsylvania, and Michigan — that margin was enough to send Trump to the White House.1
The best way I’ve always found to describe fear, other than worst-writing about my beloved #americant and/or free-to-be-stupid people, is to worst-write about those who are so much better than worst-moi at doing it, e.g.: George Orwell and his wonderfully appropriate novel Nineteen Eightyfour. Specifically, understanding fear is best done by considering the fear of Winston Smith. As the story goes, it is revealed, after Winston meets a girl, that he is afraid of rats. Now, obviously, in the real world, in a world of man-rule (and not patriarchy miss-rule2), no man would freak out in front of a fresh lover when a rat pokes its head of a hole in her wall3. In fact, to prove his worthiness and to get another good fcuk out of her, a real man would kill that fcuking rat toot-suite and immediately after washing his hands (of the mess), do the nasty-deed again and thereby impose upon his new lover his obsession with other useful orifices. But enough about worst-writer’s fantasies.
Orwell had to offer up something in his story to show how fear is used to control the automatons that enable the system. I guess rats were (are) a good place to start. What’s missing in the story, though, is the automatons. Lucky for us, dear worst-reader, we live in times where we don’t have to look any further to find the automatons that have caused our dystopia. They are among us, we among them. And so. The necessity of the state to inflict fear as a means of control has kinda shifted in the last few decades. Reason? Fear is now manifested in our inability to look under the comb-overs that rule us. And not just President Stupid’s comb-over. The reality is, the rat in the story means nothing. Winston’s face being eaten by that rat also means nothing. And another thing that means nothing is the love that Winston betrays–as though Orwell gives a hoot about love. Indeed. What Orwell is dealing with is how the world (and those in it) so willingly allow themselves to be ruled by what’s under their comb-overs.
But I’m almost off subject. This is supposed to be yet another worst-post about worst-writer’s fear(s). And you know what motivated that fear? The women in the pic above that voted for president comb-over and the pic of the spider. Which one afears me more? And keep this in mind. Of all of the things I fear, one of them will NEVER be the spider. The reason for that is because I know the people that have enabled, facilitated our dystopia. You know them, too, dear worst-reader. Just take a moment. Take a deep breath. Feel the world clog up the lungs of your mind. Take a deep look at the spiders and snakes and distances (between us) that cause all the fear. And say with me: I am not afraid of spiders. I am only afraid of what that spider looks like, what it carries on its back, the texture that makes it what it is. It reminds so much of the mind-set of a woman scorned, of president stupid and of what’s underneath that which should be covered–forevermore.
All hail THE COMB-OVER.
Rant on.
-T
PS While I’m on yet another rant about blaming the women-folk for electing president stupid, the third pic above I thought would be appropriate. Maybe it’s not. Whatever.

The scene: The entire story is shot in black & white with maybe a little silver superimposed here or there. It’s also a time period where the earth’s atmosphere can no longer sustain atmospheric high pressure. This climate situation is caused by a perpetual state of atmospheric lows. This is referred to as climate status quo (as opposed to climate change1). Put another way, clouds have become the sky for at least two generations and although there’s not much rain, a blue sky is rare.
The protagonist of the story is a pirate-like character that wears a jalopy suit. A jalopy suit is a suit made of remnants of other suits. This would be something like a suit jacket that has been pieced together. The arms, the lapels, the pocket trimmings etc. don’t match. Of course, the pants do not match the jacket and are held to the protagonists waist by a string–a belt being a rare item. A vest would also go well with this outfit–something perhaps with a bit more colour than the jacket and pants. Our protagonist wears two different but very fancy patent leather shoes and he is often attempting to keep them clean or unscathed from the rough, almost moon-like dull silver terrain. He also wears non-matching socks, which can be seen due to two different legs of the pants that were sewn together.
Our protagonist is the head of a gang of young people that call themselves the Interfacers. Nobody knows anybody’s real name; each is addressed with a variety of pronouns. Pronouns include:
Every once-a-once the protagonist is called Depp as he has somewhat of a Hollywood swagger and the others thought it reminiscent of a Pirates of the Caribbean movie poster they once saw.
The sole purpose of the gang is to salvage smartphone junk. Discarded, broke and junk smartphones serve as a form of currency on the black market that makes-up their eco-system. Most of the gang act subservient to Depp because he’s found a way to break down smartphones into its components and thereby extract the rare earth elements that are used to make them. This is a much more profitable form of smartphone scavenging. There are other gang members that aren’t so subservient and they are a threat to Depp.
The gang is pursued by other gangs not only in search of Depp’s cache of junk smartphones but also his secret to getting to the rare elements inside them, i.e. the metal used to make the innards of the phones. The gang has never seen his secret method. Instead he shares the wealth he’s acquired with them–as long as they find smartphones that he can use to breakdown. To keep his gang small and unique he turns away most stragglers even if they bring a good smartphone in exchange for getting into the gang.
Depp has a price on his head set by local eco-system administrators.
One day while showing the gang around a newly discovered heap of smartphones, one of the gang makes an unusual discovery. An actual working smartphone is found in the heap. When this is given to Depp he promises everyone a bonus and a special evening meal and then goes on a tirade imitating Steve Jobs as though, using the found smartphone, he was giving the original iPhone introduction from the year 2007. During his tirade, though, his attention is drawn to the phone. On the phone a video of a little boy–assumed to be its owner–has made an old fashion video blog, i.e., a Vlog. In the Vlog the boy is doing a mock unboxing and review of a bicycle. Depp realises that the video is current. Then, suddenly, in a fit of desperation Depp struggles to turn off the smartphone. Not understanding what’s going on, the gang becomes restless. For some in the gang this is the first working device they’ve ever seen.
Depp has seen many functioning smartphones before but after struggling to turn this one off he realises he’s made a big blunder. Before he can deal with the situation he’s gotten himself in another group of young men appear in the wings. Moments later Rival appears. Rival is the leader of another gang. Depp deals with his blunder toot suite in an act of technical prowess that his gang has yet to witness. Even the other gang is in awe of what Depp is doing. (What is Depp doing?)
Rival explains that the phone was a setup, that he placed the phone to be found and he set it up with a tracer. The only problem is, Depp, knowing that he screwed up and should have known better, also realises that the smartphone was just a find by his rival and begins to question the video of the boy in search of a bicycle. Rival is confused by the video–because he never saw it which tells Depp that Rival is probably working for someone else. Depp finds a way out of this predicament (blunder) by resorting to an old trick that fools Rival and his gang. To the surprise of those around him, Depp smashes the phone on the ground and refuses to take it with him for salvage. Depp’s gang is shocked.
Keep in mind, dear worst-reader, Bicycles no longer exist in this eco-system because all available metal is used only for upper-class consumption. Since children are exposed to technology from birth there has been no interest in outdoor activity or actual playing outside. The video of the bicycle is more than a curiosity for all.
The trick Depp uses to get rid of his rival has two parts. First , as previously stated, he smashes the phone on the ground. This, of course, destroys the device but more importantly makes it no longer trackable. It’s also a gesture on the part of the current possessor that he forfeits his possession (of the device). This shocks his rival who subsequently falls on the phone with his whole body and Depp’s gang watch in wonder. This scene is an example of the fundamental rules governing this eco-system. This is a system where finder keepers, losers weepers or possession is nine-tenths of the law rules3.
Also shocked, but still loyal even though the gang assume an evening’s meal has been wasted, Depp’s gang anxiously follow him as he leaves the scene while Rival worships what remains of the device. The second part of Depp’s reversing his blunder is that he managed to copy the video from the phone he destroyed. And not just the video but also the contents of the phone that his rival used to track him. Here it is revealed that Depp has had a working smartphone on his person unknown to his gang. As Depp studies what his Rival did to track him, his gang watch in utter amazement.
Using that phone, he was able to copy the video of the boy mock-unboxing the bicycle. In a grand gesture, he actually gives the precious phone to his gang to watch the video as he’s seen enough, adding that the battery is about to run out, so they should enjoy it and remember it as best they can. There is no way to recharge batteries of phones in this eco-system.
Once the battery is drained, Depp wants to take it to break it down. The gang members, although appreciative and submissive want to 1) stop Depp from breaking down the device to get to its parts and 2) want to know more about bicycles. But Depp insists that in order for them to survive they must break down the phone. Having sacrificed the other phone to get the rival gang off their trail was a great cost. “Times are getting tougher,” Depp explains. “There are issues of consumables,” Depp says. Is this a moment of mutinous behaviour from a few gang members?
The moment of mutiny is broken up when a straggler comes along with a new boxed smartphone. The straggler, being so naive and unintelligent, doesn’t realise that the phone he carries is so special. He only wants something for it because the box is so pretty. The gang and Depp of course are skeptical, thinking that this too is another trap from their rival gang. Depp concludes that something else is going on. Two phones in one day–this one still in the original box! Depp tries to convince his gang that a functioning smartphone is not as valuable as the rare metals inside of it. Reason: 1) they have no means to charge the device and 2) there is no cellular network for calling. Or is there?
This new phone amazes Depp. Reason: it is actually a new phone. He questions where the man found it. The man points off and says like: …there, over there, near a pile of wall remnants. Although it does have a few scratches and some other wear & tear, it is the most beautiful phone Depp has ever seen. But before becoming obsessed with it, Depp also realises that there is something even more special about it. It not only has a full battery but it is also showing a connection to a cellular network. Depp has lots of experience with these devices but has never made a call with one.
Depp begins to investigate how the guy came across this phone. He wants to know everything about where and how he found it. The guy says it was just lying on the side of a road, near a wall. What does the boy/man mean by “wall”? “A wall? What wall,” Depp asked. “Was there a car?” The boys start rambling on about the cars they love that they’ve only seen in pictures and posters.
Depp has two great fears. One is facing up to the untruths he’s told his gang. The other is the upperclass. He’s faced them before when he was a child. And so, like new-fangled Robin Hood Depp goes on a quest to find a bike. The problem is, there are no more bikes because humanity reset its priorities and gave up on the simplest inventions when the smartphone boom took over humanities mind.
All known resources are now only used for smartphone production.
The irony of the smartphone name. As the devices got better the ones using them got dumber.
Or something like that.
-end of idea-
Rant on.
-T

In an attempt to figure out Apple’s really, really krappy cloud service, iCloud, I finally hooked up with icloud.com today. Seriously. I’ve never been to this part of the Apple universe before. I guess I always preferred to do all my stuff mostly through a Mac and every once-a-once my phone. I had two reactions to this experience. First, it reminded me of e-World. Anyone out their remember e-World? Boy was that a terrible effort on the part of a company that would soon become the most profitable greed show ever to be run by automatons. The second thing I thought of was where’s my MacBook Air in the My Devices section (see pic above). Then I remembered that in order to get through the BS of Apple’s really, really krappy cloud service this morning, I unchecked my MacBook Air from the service. Is that why it’s not in the My Devices list? Not that it really matters. Wait. There should also be another Apple TV in there and a friggin Mac Mini. Oh my. So it’s probably better that I forget that. Instead, time to remember e-World.

Rant on.
-T

Oh my, dear worst-reader. Since confiscating my better-half’s 2016 12″ MacBook–and she going full iOS as of late 2017–I’ve been enjoying this little über-fantastic device which has even made me forget my beloved 2015 13″ MacBook Air with that friggin i7 processor and that fan that randomly interupts everything all day long–and wants to burn hole in my lap sometimes. Contrary to what you might read or see in reviews, the performance of the 12″ MacBook with its low-end M3 processor is more than adequate for my digital needs which includes stuff like this worst-post typed in the WordPress app and using Apple Preview for the screenshot (above). According to specs, the MacBook is running the lowest available CPU Apple offers. And after a few months of use, I could give a hoot about that power-pro-macbook-nonsense–nor do I mind being a light weight computer user. But enough about worst-moi. §When the device was introduced in 2015, I even giggled here or there about what Apple had done. Keyboard. Camera. Single port. Etc. After watching you-tubers review this thing you’d even think Apple had lost its $hit when it comes to Macs. §Au contraire, dear worst-reader! §The 2nd iteration low-end Macbook (2016) is supposed to have the processing speed of a tortoise freshly hatched. Yet I’m digging it as though it’s more like a mini-hare jotting through the landscape of tech nonsense galore and all the while not paying attention to the Pam Anderson like tech-wannabes sunning their fun-parts in fields of silicon beauty. Also, since I’m a stickler for watching my back when it comes to the greed-show lead by Apple and its strategic genius of corpo-obsoletism–that is, systematically making people buy new iPhones and Macs when in reality if Apple would not push us to upgrade the OS but instead just let us chose which OS we want to keep working with (and thereyby fix those as we do), then I too might not be so critical of this/our universe’s most profitable organisation worthy of all my love-hate. But enough buttering up, eh. §When my better-half purchased the MacBook in the fall of 2016, it came with El Capitan OS X (10.11). As stated (or as worst-written), I’m a stickler for NOT upgrading my OS. Or. Put another way: I prefer to not upgrade until I’m convinced that the $hit won’t hit the fan by doing so. I also, by-the-buy, never buy first iteration Apple products–hence I pushed the 2016 model over the 2015 even though the Apple store tried to push the latter on us. And so, dear worst-reader: I’m no beta-tester, motherfcuker. But that’s neither here nor there. §I let my wife’s MacBook ride on El Capitan for most of the eighteen months she let the thing sit on the shelf as she turned more and more into the iOS centric person she has become. I also never upgraded my MacBook Air beyond El Capitan–as that gorgeous little newer device was itching (from that shelf). And while on the subject of upgrading our Macs… As far as my home server is concerned (a monstrous Mac Pro 5,1), El Capitan is the end of operating system upgrades. The Mac Pro is from 2010 (and I only miss OS X Lion a little bit). It still works great but it is truly an old truck (a very powerful truck) with numbered days. Oh, and before I forget. One of the biggest reason I can’t/won’t upgrade my older equipment is because of Apple’s new files system. Seriously. AFPS or APFS or whatever it’s called, scares the beegeezees out of me. And keep in mind, dear worst-reader, I already went through the Apple chaos of the company switching from power-pc to intel. Aghast! Anywho. Although my Mac Pro boots from a PCIe SSD (the new file system is supposed to be geared toward SSDs) it also has four spinning HDDs internally and four more externally hooked up through various ports (firewire). But I’m off topic. §There was nothing in OS X Sierra (10.12) that interested me so I didn’t even bother with it. Usually, though, after one or two OS X releases, I start to get itchy. I finally came around with the MacBook and installed High Sierra at the end of 2017. To be honest, there really isn’t much difference to El Capitan–except for new file system and (Aghast!) Apple’s attempt to be hip with its (still) awful iCloud cloud service. Of course, all the believers out there say that the changes of High Sierra are under the hood. I say, after fiddling with it, what was the point of Sierra before its High? But here comes the real killer–at least for me. If you haven’t noticed already, check out the position of my DropBox folder in the pic above. I can’t believe that Apple would allow/enable its cloud service to assume that I would want my Dropbox folder (from a competing cloud service) to be included in its service. Whaaaaaaa! Of course, being the dunce I be, I didn’t pay enough attention to the install/upgrade procedure of High Sierra. I mean, I remember being asked if I wanted iCloud integration but I was so nervous about whether or not I did the right thing in the first place…. I know. I know. I should grow a pair, eh. Btw, I also upgraded my MacBook Air to High Sierra but have since restored it back to El Capitan. The upgrade is ok for the MacBook–on account I think the only real benefit is the new file system and the retina display. Something was very different about my MacBook Air’s screen with High Sierra. I might be seeing things in my old age–with my old, weak eyes–but I swear everything was blurry on my MacBook Air after HS upgrade. But then again, once you go retina there is no going back. §And that’s what she said, baby.
Rant on.
-T
The Rhine is swelling, dear worst-reader. Even though we’re not having the bomb-cyclon winter storm that my beloved east coast #americant is having, the weather in old Germania plays strange all the same. Check out how close the river is to the tree top and the dike in the pic above. The vehicle almost buried in snow is from my home town where a bit of crazy weather is happening, too. And the odd painted BMW is yet another example of Germans failing miserably at just trying to be funny with the only thing they can really do (make cars).
Rant on.
-T

Wake up, dear worst-reader. I’ve got some worst-newz for ya. Did you know that there was one of the worst outbreaks of hepatitis-a in the greatest country in the universe last year? Whaaaaa? Repeat: hepatitis-a broke out in southern California! You didn’t know that? Did you not know it because, well, you’re one of the automatons that actually directly contributed to there being such an outbreak? The problems of the world today is mostly due to the passive yet indirect contributory activity of the automaton masses. Even though that mass has been systematically culled over the past two or three decades. Perhaps that’s the reason automatons are so damn nasty these days. And by-the-buy, did you also know that hepatitis-a is one of the easiest diseases to prevent? That’s right, all you gotta do is clean up after yourself and make sure everything else is clean around you. And when I worst-write about clean I’m not talking about clean sneakers or picking up after yourself when you finish your fast-food. I reckon in the land of the free-to-be-stupid taking cleanliness to higher levels–and keeping them there–is asking for a bit much. Of course, my beloved #americant isn’t alone among the so-called first world nations that’s having trouble getting rid of the one thing humanity knows how to make without exploiting others to do it. Even though the two situations I’m referencing here (links below) are quite different, one thing remains the same. You can trace the automaton worship of greed as being the point of entry to the poverty of the soul we all live for now. And the fact that the poor–I’m worst writing about the real poor here–the people that can’t even afford to wipe their a$$es–are soon gonna join the zombies (automatons) as the fastest growing population segment–without proper sanitation and/or sewage. Indeed. Until then, not only do automatons need a place to $hit in the filthy and dilapidated office buildings but the wannabe automatons who couldn’t make it (yes, I’m pretty much one of the later) are leading the way of having to $hit in the streets again (but I’m not quite there yet). Wow. Not unlike feudalism from the good old days, eh?
For what ever strange reason, worst-writing about all this unnecessary poverty in this world got me thinking about Rammstein. I mean, of course, the band and not the rundown town in southwestern Germany. There’s always been something about the song Bück Dich that has bothered me over the years. I remember struggling with the text when I first heard it. Words like Antlitz and Passgang drove me to the brink of coping with having learned this gross language. Yet these words were somehow poetic islands in the sea of wanna-cry devastation that the world has brought upon itself simply because there is so much inherent greed and hate for brothers, sisters and all the freak show inhabitants in-between. Which brings me to this new translation retry of Rammstein’s Bück Dich1:
Bück dich befehl ich dir
(I order you, bend over (and get on all fours))
Wende dein Antlitz ab von mir
(Keep your (facial) expressions to yourself (because of what I’m doing to you)
Dein Gesicht ist mir egal
(Your face doesn’t matter (which is not unlike a whore fcuking her John)
Bück dich
(Get on all fours)
Ein Zweibeiner auf allen Vieren
(Two-Legs is on all fours)
Ich führe ihn spazieren
(I take him for a walk)
Im Passgang den Flur entlang
(Amble along the hallway)
Ich bin enttäuscht
(I’m disappointed)
Jetzt kommt er rückwarts mir entgegen
(Two-Legs passes by me going backwards (but what he really means is that his subject is starting to want it))
Honig bleibt am Strumpfband kleben
(The/my honey sticks to his stockings)
Ich bin enttauscht total enttauscht
(I’m disappointed, really disappointed)
Bück Dich…
Das Gesicht interessiert mich nicht
(Faces don’t interest me)
Der Zweibeiner hat sich gebückt
(Two-Legs bends over)
In ein gutes Licht geruckt
(Finding favour in the light (where I can hone my aim))
Zeig ich ihm was man machen kann
(I show him what a man can do (to another man))
Und ich fang zu weinen an
(Which brings me to tears (of joy or maybe not))
Der Zweifuss stammelt ein Gebet
(Two-Legs screws-up his prayers)
Aus Angst weil es mir schlechter geht
(He is afraid because I’m not pleased (with his performance))
Versucht er tief sich noch zu bücken
(So he tries harder to bend over more)
Tranen laufen hoch den Rucken
(My tears flow up his back)
-end translation-
So I guess, in a way, dear worst-reader, Rammstein has written a homage to humanity and its ability to subject itself to Bück Dick or, putting it in a less Germanic way, bent over and wantonly penetrated so you can have a life where/while someone else can’t. That is, indeed, the only reason you have a life, isn’t it? Because someone else doesn’t? Or are we still on the great white ape thing and how humanity achieved so much coming out of the stone age? But I digress.
Good luck suckers.
Rant on.
-T
Links that motivated this post:

The man I was sent to replace was named Charlie. His full name: Christofer Littleton. He was born in Liverpool, England, but hadn’t been back there since he was a kid. After his mother abruptly died on his twelfth birthday, his father, who was an engineer for the British army, packed up everything and the two went to India. Charlie finished growing up in Bangelore where his father was a consultant to the Indian Government. After completing compulsory school and utilising contacts from his father, Charlie took a job as a tool-man in Hong Kong. When he departed India, it was two days before his eighteenth birthday. It was 1953.
A “Tool-Man” is another name for a train engineer.
His idea was to work in China and help that country develop its metro system. To start, though, Charlie worked with the digging crews that would eventually lay the first rails of the Hong Kong MTR. During his second year, right after his contract was renewed, Charlie met Marry. Marry was from Korea. Marry moved to HK just after North Korea tried to invade South Korea. Marry and Charlie never had a family. One day Marry went to Charlie and told him she was unhappy with their lives in Hong Kong and that her unhappiness had nothing to do with being barren. She then said that she had a big family back in Korea and she was ready to go home. Charlie had worked ten years. The HK MTR was flourishing.
Charlie quit his job at Hong Kong MTR. With in a few months he and Marry took a boat to South Korea. Once there Marry revealed that her family wasn’t in the South but instead in the North. This revelation had little impact. Charlie joined his wife and the two entered North Korea. It was 1965.
I met Charlie in 1989 in a small office in the south-east corner basement of The Pyongyang Great Hall. The door to Charlie’s office was labelled “Tool-Man” and below that was the Korean translation. After greetings and other formalities, Charlie immediately took me to the train station that was directly at the rear entrance of The Great Hall. It was during this walk through the building that I realised my situation. I was living a dream. Yes, dear worst-reader. Some live dreams through the physical universe, some do not.
I tried to question Charlie about his decision to live in The North. Other than the following, Charlie withheld elaborating about his life decisions. He said, “Do your job.” His other remark was: Not unlike where you come from, everything here is not a dream.
We exited the rear of The Great Hall and I found myself standing directly on the train departure platform. Something was waaaaay out of whack. I couldn’t place it, though. My watch read nine forty-six. The morning air was fresh and crisp, unlike the air in Seoul–which I had no recollection of traveling to. The grey sky dimmed my view somewhat of the train grounds behind The Grat Hall but below the platform was a single narrow gauge track. The track was just as out-of-whack as the departure platform. In fact, according to my limited knowledge of trains, the gauge of the track meant that the train could not be a real train. But none of that mattered because, regardless of train here or there, I would command it the rest of my life… in North Korea.
During the first few moments of this passing of the baton, Charlie voiced soliloquies about his endeavours and when he was done he continued with songs of glory-interludes, adding tales of privilege while driving Dear Leader around the grounds behind The Great Hall. There was also a small buffet of goose-shrimp, tackle-butter and confused-gender bread but only attendees with a special badge could take from it. I did not have the special badge.
I kept one eye on Charlie and the other on the people gathering around us. As each person recognised Charlie and then me, the reason for my presence became clearer. Oh, dear worst-dreamer, I was indeed there for a reason. The reason goes beyond the metaphysical of my never having laid one foot in either South or North Korea. As best as I can surmise, the only reason I was there–in reality or not–was to relay Charlie’s message. For I am, in fact, a chronicler of a dream’s dream.
Being a tool-man wasn’t Charlie’s only purpose in life. His life was the two sides of all coins. First there was Marry. Second there was his message. Together these two purposes served a power higher than even the most giving and willing humans have ever attempted. I speak, of course, of the great messengers Jesus, Mohammad and, perhaps, #Trump. (I use the word “perhaps” because purpose remains to be determined. Or?)
Upon my arrival Charlie had already surpassed his time on earth. His extension or continuance, if you will, was granted by Dear Leader. The cause of this grant was a mistake in life and was not unlike mistakes from other infamous messengers: He failed to get the message out.
I’m wondering if the whole idea of message-delivery is that which brings me to my greatest fear: Not having enough time to debate the error and misfortune of the only son-of-God, born to this foul-able coil, like so many others, of mortality, and thereby stuck with the impossible. But I’m off subject–perhaps.
No matter where Charlie stood during the ceremony there was a descending sun-glow around his head. He had no remorse in saying goodbye to the facility that had him trapped for so many years. Is his face just like that of Jesus? Was his a face of disappointment? A face of misguided rage? Forgive me father for we have sinned?
By-the-buy, asking The Father for forgiveness of your sins was once a translators interpretation of pre canonical text. The reason it is still used today, even though it has nothing to do with biblical forgiveness-seeking, is because it’s what JC said either before or after “Father why hast thou forsaken me.” In fact, JC mumbled no-nonsense for hours before his final light went out.
But Charlie’s remorse was something else. In fact, I’d go so far as to claim that he knew all along that I would get the baton. He might not have known my face but he knew someone would be there. He might have even known all along that he wouldn’t be able to get his message out. So I also wondered if he was enjoying the suffering in my face. Yes, I think he was enjoying it.
After elegantly praising his time as Tool-Man and extolling the joy of marriage, he turned to me and put a hand in a coat pocket. Out of his pocket he pulled a lone key attached to a six inch diameter stainless steel ring. He handed me the ring and key and told me to be gentle but also firm… with her. Then he added: she will determine your time. He stood at attention as the small gauge train rolled around the small gauge track and came to halt before us–on the small departure platform. It was the first time I had seen the down-scaled train.
The underlings of the train exited from one of the three cars attached and they all shook hands with Charlie first. Charlie responded in Korean to their gestures and when all was done, the underlings turned to me and offered salutations anew. As I began to shake hands and reciprocate, Charlie entered the last train car and the train drove off towards the west corner of The Great Hall and I would never see him again.
Just then I woke up.
-end-
Rant on.
-T

Disclaimer: The pic above is not an ad. Also, I wish no ill-will to the winery. And in all fairness, the wine wasn’t all that bad (as I eventually did try it–but never drank a glass of it). But I do wish to be critical–on behalf of all humanity that has not allowed itself to be distorted by wilful ignorance.
The pic above, dear worst-reader, is from a recent visit to The Homeland. And that’s where everything starts, doesn’t it? I mean. Come on. A once great nation can now be referred to as The Homeland. If Orwell were to turn in his grave, he also most certainly would be cynically laughing his a$$ off right now. What Aldus Huxley would be doing is whole ‘nother question–so let’s not go there (yet). Instead. Consider The Homeland and what lead to The Homeland for the rest of this worst-post. And now… let’s continue with a blossoming feminine flower that is in a perpetual state of menstruation but eventually finds it way to all-things cognitive.
The wine in the bottle in the pic above is called “Reconciliation”. As bad as the name The Homeland is, Reconciliation can be no worse. Or? When I first saw this bottle and recognised what someone was offering me to drink and what some wine maker decided to call it, I fcuking freaked out. After a few minutes, though, when my steamy, rocket-ship feet once again found solidity with this earth, images and audio of George Carlin and Bill Hicks began to scatter through the innards of my skull. It’s at that moment I turned to the person attempting to serve me.
“I’m not drinking anything from that bottle. Thank you all the same,” I said.
“Why not?”
“Have you lost all since of reality,” I asked my gracious but somewhat politically naive host.
“What do you mean, it’s good wine. I buy it by the case. It was a great catch last summer.”
“My friend…,” I tried to continue but was having trouble pushing my chin upwards in attempt to close-off my dropped jaw.
Here’s the thing, dear worst-reader. There has never been and, perhaps, there should never be Reconciliation. Reason? When a war is won, there is a loser and there is a winner. The dip$hit southern states of the United Mistakes of #americant lost the Civil War. And the cock-sucking traitors didn’t JUST lose. They lost big time. And not only did they lose, but they should have also lost the right to even be part of the United Mistakes. Every fcuking person in the fcuking south should have been put on a ship and sent to Africa where they and their great grand children should spend eternity trying to find forgiveness where forgiveness isn’t deserved. With that in mind, Abraham Lincoln deserves a big… Fcuk You Abe! For letting so many of THEM off the hook.
Considering the (political) state of the US today, I suppose it’s no wonder that a bottle of wine named after a lie can be sold to certain clientele. Obviously, according to worst-writer, this clientele is part of the TV nation, better known as The DumbDown aka The Homeland. Even I–a harbinger of wanton intolerance that began with Ronald Reagan–know that rational thinking can only go so far–and so: a bottle of wine named after a systematically perpetuated lie is at the end of my (tolerance) rope. Obviously, there is a place/need for The DumbDown in a society. But the problem now is that The DumbDown have practically taken over as they serve a higher monetary power. But I digress.
Indeed. Let the Phoenix rise. Let the motherfcuker burn (down).
Rant on.
-T

I can’t feel a thing. Well, actually I feel a small click. Yes. It’s a click where there should be movement. And I’m not talking about the trackpad? Yet, so similar are these new input and control gadgets on Apple’s new MacBook. Comparatively, there is much more movement of the keys and the trackpad of my MacBook Air (MBA). And, btw, I’ve always hated chicklet keyboards. And so, Apple came up with a software solution to enhance the typing environment–just for me.
Get this.
You can, in preferences, actually turn on a clicking sound for the trackpad. Ain’t that a hoot! Of course, I don’t know if that’s cool or stupid. But I don’t really care. The software click of the trackpad corresponds perfectly to the precise click of the keyboard and its oh-so limited butterfly key travel. In fact, I’d say this new keyboard is actually louder than the old keyboard. And so, I’m thinking about the keys of the Apple USB keyboard connected to my Mac Pro 5,1. Those keys move more than the ones on my MBA. And as stated: I’m not a fan of chicklets. Yet, in my pseudo review of this MacBook, something isn’t right… when I’m not typing on it.
Here’s the confiscation run-down.
I’m not sure my wife’s 100% behind me taking her MacBook. On the other hand, I can’t stand seeing the thing just lie around. She bought this 2nd gen MacBook in the late summer of 2016 but never really used it. Why she bought it in the first place is another story. In short, it had something to do with her job and BYOD (bring your own device). It turns out that her iPad was more than enough to be her daily driver–even at work. After about six or eight months lugging both the MacBook and the iPad to work she started leaving the MacBook home. That’s when I started fiddling with it in the name of empirical study. I was curious about the device since its debut. It turns out that the performance of the M3 processor is every bit as good as the performance of the i7 processor of my 2015 MBA. Let me tell you, dear worst-reader, that was the first sign that my MBA’s days were numbered.
The complaints.
The Interwebnet is full of MacBook keyboard sucks complainers. Reviewers and users alike all have something negative to say about this new design. Complaints usually start with the price, then comes the keyboard and it all seems to culminate with the single USB-C port. To me, considering Apple’s product trajectory, which is obviously iOS centric, this MacBook only makes sense. I for one am not ready to go iOS–but I see the inevitability of the future. Trust me, I tried i0S. I had a iPad 4 for about a year. And I honestly tried to supplant my 2013 13″ MacBook Pro with it. I did not succeed. I dumped the iPad 4 for an Apple refurbished MacBook Air. (By-the-buy, that’s the only way I buy Apple hardware now.) Apple’s pro machines are too high-priced and also a bit of tech overkill for my needs. And so, my best guess is the only reason Apple still has the Air model is so they can offer it to guys like me in the $999 bracket–or even cheaper refurbished. Anywho. The new-fangled MacBook starts at three hundred bucks more than an Air–and for the life of me I don’t really know why. Despite the new design features, it feels as though you are paying way more for way less by going with the new device. A hefty hunk of change indeed.
And now for some worst-writer honesty.
If I were at an Apple Store right now I wouldn’t even look at a MacBook. That pink colour is just too f’n scary. I would go straight to the Pro line. I’m not sure how long it would take, but after a few milliseconds of witnessing the price of “pro” models, I’d be out of the store and once again walking home where I would try and catch a great deal buying from Apple’s refurbish program. There is no doubt that Apple Macs are waaaaaaay over priced. Yet, I’m stuck in the eco-system. I’m only glad that I have a choice other than full retail consumption of this krapp. That said, here I am–by means of marital confiscation–absolutely loving the new design, including the keyboard, the single port and f’n everything else. Is it faster than my three year old Air (with i7 cpu): no. Is the screen better: yes. Is the build better: yes. Is the keyboard better: it’s definitely not worse than any chicklet keyboard. Which brings me to…
The only thing I ever learned in #americant public school was the ability to all finger type.
I probably haven’t typed anything on a mechanical typewriter in about two years. I think I might have used my Hermes Baby last year when I needed to address some envelopes. That’s right, dear worst-reader. I addressed snail mail envelopes using a typewriter instead of printing from a laser printer. The reason for that, other than romance and nostalgia mixed with bit of boredom, is not worth addressing here. What’s important is that I don’t miss typing on typewriters. It was/is time to give them up–and not because I too am becoming outdated. I have long since embraced the glorified-typewriters aka computers of today for all my writing. In fact, I was thinking about buying one of them glass cabinets and putting it in a room and filling it with Hermes, Olivetti, Olympia, Princess and Groma Kolibri–all of which are retired in a few boxes in my basement.

Oh yeah. The MacBook keyboard.
For the life of me I can’t understand why people complain about this keyboard. Considering that I’ve always found chicklet keyboards a bad idear, this so-called butterfly keyboard made me curious from the get-go. I can see why finger-picking typists would have a hard time with it. The keys have very little travel and even less tactile feel. For finger-pickers it must be like tapping on a glass plate–or worse: typing on an iPad (aghast). When I focus with all nine fingers*, when I soften my strokes, when I get going, I love this keyboard. The butterfly mechanism alleviates having to find the sweet spot of, say, chicklet keys–which is often the biggest problem I’ve had when using my ring finger and little finger on those keyboards. No matter what part of the key you touch on the new MacBook keyboard, it activates. It also makes it easier to find/reach shift-keys and all the other non letter keys with ring and little fingers.
Worst-Writer conclusion: the only other laptop keyboard that has ever been worth a hoot is that of the older Thinkpads. But from what I understand Lenovo, since taking over from IBM, has resorted to chicklet keys, too. As far as I can tell, getting rid of the chicklet keyboard was one of the best things Apple could do. With that in mind, you finger typists should finally learn to type.
Rant on.
-T
*Nine fingers because I use only my right thumb when typing.