My printer, Balky, has died and I feel betrayed and deserted rather than bereaved. He wasn’t an old, trusted friend or even a helpful machine that could be relied upon for faithful service or solutions to problems (most of which he created). How many deadlines have I missed because of this miscreant? How much of my copy has been mangled within his bowels?
My PC often aided and abetted Balky’s schemes. I suspect it was a team effort. “The printer is not turned on.” I would read on my screen although Balky was sitting there with all lights blinking and with a background noise that sounded a lot like giggling.
Often, the PC would tell me my “PRINT” command was not enough. A complete diagnosis of the delicately balanced printer was necessary. But what about the delicately balanced writer? Ten minutes later the “Trouble Shooter” would report “No problems discovered” Balky would then invent a false paper jam and I’d have to probe through his innards and falsely report I’d cleared it. Two can play this game.
Expensive techies, after long efforts, gave up trying to revive Balky or to retrieve the original documents of mine he’d swallowed. I decided I need a reliable printer that can deliver true copies of my work with no if’s, ands or giggles.
I’ve returned to historic basics by teaming up with an Irish Monk who will produce perfect prints of my usually messy but legible originals. After all, County Kerry is electronically just as close as Silicon Valley. I am convinced Irish monks, after many centuries, are still devoted to making precise copies of important documents and even so-so blogs.
I have already made a test run. Two days ago I Emailed the first draft of a blog to Brother Brendan in County Kerry. And now, that’s got to be a FedEx guy pounding on my door.
I am about to open the package. This is an important moment! Will devotion to duty prevail over a sloppy attitude and giggles?
Wow! What exquisite calligraphy! Two versions of impeccable script with beautiful marginal ornamentation! My blog readers will be so impressed. If only they could read Latin or Gaelic.
Imagine That 