Rotten Apple

Love Ipod. Loathe Mac—a company that holds the philosophy of world peace and everyone to gather on a hill, holding hands, singing Kumbaya (or something more PC. Ha! PC), but is so proprietary it makes ME (a typically peaceful, loving, nonviolent individual) want to grab up the nearest Uzi, storm down to my local Apple kiosk and start screaming "WHY THE HELL CAN'T I TRANSFER MY %$^$#%$^@ PLAYLIST!!!!! SOMEONE, TELL ME NOW OR SAY YOUR PRAYERS!" I now understand why there are individuals that walk into places like McDonald's and start mowing people down—probably because they can't have it "their way."

I have been spending countless hours trying to out mastermind the sadistic genieks (that's genius geeks) at Macintosh figuring out how to transfer a practice playlist from my computer to Dave's Ipod without wiping everything out on his Ipod that he has "synced" with a different computer. This involved several hours of neglecting Vaughn, who's wanting help with his latest obsession—fishing and inventing a better “fish trap.” (What is it with all his inventions involving catchers, bait, traps…hmmmm…I see a pattern.)

"Go into your room and invent a way around Mac's insane licensing protections."

I'll be 90: "Ah-Ha! He's done it! I knew Vaughn's handmade fishing lures would come in handy! TAKE THAT APPLE!"

I've always thought of myself as a rather lazy person, but I have now come to realize that I am stubbornly tenacious when it comes to what I perceive as gross injustice. The more challenging it becomes, the more willing I am to spend countless hours of my life trying to conquer the Evil Empire. Dave, on the other hand, logically weighs the pros and cons, decides whether or not it's convenient or not to waste any more time on it, and knows when to cut bait. I, however, take it as a personal insult and will fight to the death to defend my God given rights to pirate MY PERSONAL PROPERTY. To this reasoning, Dave just looks at me, shaking his head sadly, recognizing the crazed obsessed lunatic glow in my eyes, and knows when to wisely walk away, leaving me to my machinations.

I am now working on a life-size cutout of the Mac dude in the Apple commercials so I can throw darts at it—smug little capitalistic emo—while I continue to conjure ways to circumvent MacEmpire's mind muddling music protections.