The Process: Dubliners Project

It is a dour glance that I cast upon the corner of the room known as the Computer Graveyard. There they sit, gathering dust and looking vaguely put-upon, the dying, dead or comatose computers of days gone by, and ordinarily they are treated with significantly more respect than this.

But today I am inconvenienced. Thus, today they are glared at.

Thalia, the newest addition to the Ulisse computer collection, is a placid and lovely little laptop and meets my grumblings with a quiet hum. There is meaning rising in the hum, I would love to have Photoshop, just give me some o'that Photoshoppin', for I am agreeable and do what I an told.


This is a wonderful quality to have in a computer, I will admit. None of that I'm-afraid-I-can't-do-that-Dave self-recognizance that makes computers of the future such twitchy things, not even a hint of the recalcitrance shown by the computers that usually spend time in my company (have I mentioned that I'm very good at breaking things?). However, Thalia does lack the ability to spontaneously evolve software. Say what you like about Gir; virus-ridden, ridiculous Gir, he spontaneously evolved software all the time. And Toaster, short-lived and sad though he was, came with someone willing to install all that was necessary through some alchemical process that I now wish I had paid some vestige of attention to.

Possibly it was this sort of deviltry, wicked in the eyes of the Earth, that caused the computery gods to smite Toaster down while he was still in his tender youth. He was just too damn awesome for one of Murphyonic tendencies to own.

So it came to pass that the computers with the needed software were all rendered into paperweights, and the computer agreeable to my ventures lacked the one necessary ingredient to be at all helpful. And all the people who know how to illegally acquire Photoshop no longer speak to me.

I had a feeling that might come back to bite me at some point. Ah, well. If there is groveling to be done, it will be done towards the person who DOES speak to me and knows how to appreciate a good grovel...

...the husband, Christopher the Great and Terrible, owner of Teletran The Efficient and Redolent With Photoshop.

Army of tiny cartoon James Joyces, there is hope for you yet.

Edited To Add, for accuracy's sake:

Me: Hey, I need to use your computer, it's got Photoshop.
Christopher the Great and Terrible: Okay.

WORST. GROVEL. EVER.