Entries to the Pfaff may be sporadic for a while, depending--yesterday, the sackless, no-account iMac blew up spectacularly in the wife's face as she was saving a Word document. The shuddering little green bastard coughed once and then horked up a screen of textless nonsense, and accepted no further commands. The wife then attempted several restarts, with limited success: the recalcitrant beast refused to acknowledge that there was a modem lurking in its fucking guts.

So last night I attempted a software reinstall, which seemed successful, but since this was basically dumping the fucker in the river Lethe, it is now a newborn innocent little babe, and knows naught but factory settings. "Hey, what's your ISP phone number?" it cheerfully asks me. I don't fucking know! I have to get online to look that up! I hate computers.

I've printed out whole bunch of shit today in the hopes that I have enough information to goad the iMac into actual usefulness, but as I'm fearfully stupid, we'll see how it goes.

In the meantime . . . uh . . . I don't know. Click on my links over there. They're all porn-hounds, so chances are you'll find something good.