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I’m sending it back. The morning after the last iteration in the saga of Alex vs. the Dell, the blue screen came up again. I spent the day getting primed for the call, running through the playbook in my mind, devising stratagems, hardening my resolve. I hate being Angry Customer Guy and have been fortunate enought not to have to don that mask but a few times. This was going to be his greatest victory.

I called the Dell I-Heart-Customers line, guns at the ready. They offered to replace the machine and send UPS to pick up the old one for free. No need to bring out the Sith lord.

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New research on the life of Homer has uncovered surprising details. Here’s the first stanza from Butler’s Iliad:

Sing, O goddess, the anger of Achilles son of Peleus, that brought countless

ills upon the Achaeans. Many a brave soul did it send hurrying down to

Hades, and many a hero did it yield a prey to dogs and vultures, for so were

the counsels of Jove fulfilled from the day on which the son of Atreus, king

of men, and great Achilles, first fell out with one another.

Compare to the following:

You know my husband, your father, your grandfather, of course he’s not with us

now, but when he was alive years ago, after he started his business and we lived

on Wesland street with the red house and the Ford, which I tried to learn how to

drive, and let me tell you I heard some language from him then, he always was

out bowling, you know he liked to bowl.

Comparative study has revealed that Homer was a 75-year-old Italian woman from the Bronx.

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I’d like to place a motion on the floor. Let’s move Thanksgiving to September. Those of you who don’t live in the Northeast may think this silly, but I would ask that you hear me out.

One would be foolish to miss Thanksgiving. A single day of feast and relaxed conversation in celebration of the traditions of hard work, inclusiveness,and piety that are so definitive to Americans. No singing, no church, no torn paper. Unfortunately, the gods of nature have clearly ruled that travel to and from this peaceful event be a task worthy of the great. Each year they loose the black-browed storm god upon us hapless mortals, and each year we must strain and suffer to earn our place at the table.

But we’re America. The gods do not decide our fate. We have the power to circumvent their trickery by simply changing the date of our observance. Clearly another autumn month would be preferable, keeping in line with the harvest theme of the day. October has Halloween, a holiday fervently celebrated by all but the most Fundamentalist, the Ebenezers of All Hallows Eve. September comes out as the clear leader. Write your congressman.

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Bad day today. Real bad. So what does one do to relax in a case like this? Dark Side Therapy, babies. Throw in KOTOF’NR, head to Korriban, and show those bitches why they call me “Dark Lord”. People are going to die.

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B A Start Poll: Should I take advantage of Dell’s Total Satisfaction Return Policy? I’ve got until the 24th to make up my mind. And I think I would have to pay for shipping. For a year, they’ll come out and replace broken stuff.

After repeated blue screens and full on crashes today, I called support and got somebody good. He recommended a registry cleaner and a full diagnostic. Some Christmas shopping and an ice-cream later, the diag tool is still running. It doesn’t come up with anything. I call ’em back, they take down some info and give me the number for customer care.

So, I’m muy torn. Send in your comments and lets here what you folks have to say.

Also, I’m thinking about changing the name of this blog to “DescentIntoDell.blogspot.com”.

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In an attempt to unlock some gustav in ESPN NHL 2k5, I have set the North America All-Stars against Kazakhstan and set all the sliders in all the right directions. The score is currently 33 to 0, and I haven’t touched the controller in several minutes. If you thought Sergei Gonchar couldn’t score six goals in a game, you were wrong.

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The saga continues. I started getting the old Blue Screen of Death again, so I email Dell support about it. The next day I get a reply with some dangerous-looking instructions. There was DOS typing. So, mustering up some courage, I give it a go last night. Nearest I could tell, the idea was to remove a corrupted file from my PC and replace it with the orignal from the XP CD. I got down to the end of the process, and my PC told me “Access is denied” in its typically flat manner. So, I exit and restart, becoming the proud owner of a machine built for one thing — bringing up a blue screen.

I call Dell Support. The nice pre-recorded lady asks me to enter my express service code. After a few seconds, she patiently informs me that it can be found on a label on my PC. This is fiction. I go back to the beginning and try to guess what combination of numbers will give me a person who knows how to do something other than sell me stuff. Twenty minutes on hold and one hour of instruction later, my PC is now allegedly configured exactly the same as when I first opened the box.

It froze up when I started it up this morning. It’s ok now. Further updates as events warrant.

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Boy did I get it last night. At a party with some friends, I revealed the nature of my new PC and was met with revulsion and disrespect. While this was deserved, I felt the need to defend myself by stating quite clearly that I am done with PC gaming. From here on out, it’s either PC classics or console titles. I hold the singular claim of being the cheapest gamer out there (I’ve had the PS2 for several years now and have never once paid full price for a game) and PC gaming just ain’t cheap. Buying a game-worthy rig and keeping up with upgrades hits the wallet too hard.

I’ve paid my dues, and am moving on to easier and cheaper things.

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I had no plans of seeing The Matrix. Keanu Reeves? Are you joking? Having been dragged there, I fell deeply and irrevocably in love with the movie at the first sight of the green terminal text. It brought back memories. Good memories of early geek tendencies allowed to flourish.

The next day, the deep desire to bring some part of the movie back home with me to love in private led to the purchase of the soundtrack. This stayed in constant rotation for a long time. There was a splinter in my mind, though. The song Neo is listening to when we first see him, fallen asleep on his PC, was not to be found. The little that we hear sounds like the best song in the movie, and being denied it was unacceptable. Nonetheless, I pressed on with life, unsated and soured.

Years later, Her Worshipfulness was toying with Rhapsody and the song came on. I walked into the computer room wild-eyed and slack-jawed, trying to force long-dormant synapses to fire. Finally it came to me, and I did rejoice. And the best part was, another song from the soundtrack of another favorite movie of mine is on the same album. So go listen to Massive Attack’s Mezzanine.

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Why do they always make me hold the baby? Is it just to watch me freak out? Do they think it’s cute? Why do they say I’m a natural when I quite clearly am holding my breath and sweating? Is that what infants like? Is the sound of blood rushing from my face similar to the noises of the womb? Does the mother-baby bond cause a positive reaction to terror in others? Most people won’t let you drive their new car or wear your shoes on the new carpet, but hold the progeny? I insist!

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