The Loony Bin
(
loonies@bloodaxe.com
)
Mon, 29 Mar 1999 00:04:05 +0100
The Loony Bin - http://loonies.net800.co.uk/
Hiya Loonies...
Alan sends us this wonderful tirade against our friends at Micro$oft...
Wishes & Dreams...
- ANDREA
xx
*********THE LOONY BIN****loonies@bloodaxe.com*********
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************ANDROMEDA******Internet Goddess************
------- Forwarded foolishness follows -------
For reasons which are *completely* beyond my control, I've spent half a
week writing a document in Word 98.
I have never in my life seen, heard of, or even imagined a more
malodourous piece of steaming shit than this little slice of Microsoft.
Words fail me, and all that follows is the faintest Platonist shadow-on-
a-wall of what is, in my heart, the Ideal Peeve, perfect in its
sincerity, bottomless in its depth, and unassailable in its accuracy.
This bloated, pustulent gigabyte-swamping piece of ordure takes up
enough computational resources to accurate model the world's weather for
the next billion years, and what do you get for it? Something that will
format and display text? Don't make me fucking laugh. What you DO get is
a profusion of bells and whistles thrown in a careless heap, each bauble
lovingly designed to make the straight path crooked, the intuitive
arcane, the simple impossible.
Take the "Help" for example. It's not just help, it's a new friend.
I don't *want* a new friend, you shit-slurping choad-munching bunch of
retards; I've all too many as it is. What I want is something simple
where I can find a technical detail with a minimum of fuss and
interruption. I don't want animation. I don't want natural-language
interpretation. I don't want to be led by the fucking nose. Give me a
fucking index and get the hell out of my damn face. If I dismiss a
window, I want it *gone*. I don't want it to wave goodbye, or hesitate,
or sneeze. I want it *gone*.
The document I was working on was very simple. No images, no tables, no
nothing. One font, one style, that's it. It would be perfectly simple in
other system, even earlier versions of Word, but, oh no, not in this
latest magnum opus of the word processing world.
This helpless, hapless, hopeless, buggy piece of offal insisted on
changing my fonts every couple of minutes for no reason. Random chunks
of text, at random times. And bullet points, don't talk to me about
fucking bullet points. It's a little known fact that in the bullet-point
mode of Word 98 every single button on every single toolbar is the Fuck
Me Over Now button. I've got bullet points going left, I've got 'em
going right, and down and up, I've got 'em changing indentation, and
style, you name it.
You'd think in 20 or so meg of ram there'd be room for one scenario in
which it doesn't actively do anything wrong, but for that you'll have to
wait for Word 2023, which will have a user interface like a retarded
version of "I have no mouth, and I must scream."
And don't try telling me that one need only configure the options to
avoid these problems; I'm not a fucking moron. I quickly configured the
preferences so as to minimise all this bullshit, at which point Word
promptly changed them back. Lather, rinse, repeat. If you don't want
fast saves, then fuck off, you're gunna have 'em. Don't want your
grammar constantly corrected by some shitty little subprogram that
doesn't know the first goddamn thing about grammar? Tough shit. Empty
your wallet and move off to the side.
How did this come about? It can't be incompetence, at least not the
usual mundane sort one is constantly immersed in simply by having to
share a planet with a bunch of fucking primates. This is either some
transcendent type of incompetence, or active malevolence.
My money's on malevolence. This software was obviously created by a
company who's motto is "We're Microsoft, and you, the customer, aren't
worth fuck to us". It matters not one iota what their official motto is,
watch the hands, not the mouth. Well, Microsoft, your time will come. It
may not be Linux that does you in, it may not be the DoJ, it may not be
this decade, but you're going to go the way of the dodo, and I for one
will cavort naked on your grave, pissing effusively on your memory, and
screaming, "Animate this, you bastards!" to the sky.
But in the here-and-now, I shall finish this document with the quiet
dignity with which I have always comported myself, and then I shall
uninstall Word, and swear a terrible oath that I would rather daub dung
on paper with a stick than write a document using a Microsoft product.
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