Genius

That's me.  An absolute genius of the first rank.  The kind of stupendously smart person with whom one comes in contact only once in a lifetime.  If one happens to be fortunate.   Meeting more than one like me will make ya want to commit the foulest form of suicide.  I inadvertently torture most folks.

I watched my first "Streaming DVD" on the new Blu-ray last night!  And, I did it all by myself!  No, not watched all by myself, hooked it up by myself.   Well, Muffy helped a little, but not much.  I offered him meaningful work, but he declined.  By himself he determined the most important function he could perform was to keep the instructions from blowing away in gale force winds.  If ever a gale force wind blows inside our home, Muffy will be on the job, all four feet right in the middle of the huge six color folding instructions.  He was on duty last night, and will gladly perform beyond all reasonable expectations in the future.  He's that kind of mutt. 

Knowing Carolyn would be upset if I were to use blunt force to keep his paws from covering step three, I tried using subterfuge instead.  First, I grabbed his chew toy, dangled and shook it in front of his pug face, and then tossed it across the room.  In the blink of an eye he was after it.  In the blink of my other eye, he was back in the middle of step four, only this time he was laying down, and had his toy with him to help cover more steps.

Next, I tried to bribe him with food.  He wolfed it down and returned to his station.  I've been outsmarted by this shrimp of a mutt several times, but this time was different.  I was DETERMINED to win this battle.  And, I knew just how to do it.  Thumbtacks!  I tacked the instructions to the wall.  The dog is almost as smart as I, and quickly realized he couldn't lay down on a wall.  He gave up and walked of in a huff.  Good help is getting harder and harder to find.  Maybe I should try using bunny rabbits to assist me in the future.

The Router, which was the first box I opened, was a breeze.  There was only one wire and a really cool looking curved box containing the arc of the covenant, or some other equally magic assortment of holy devices, and a CD explaining how to hook it up.  Well, all that stuff went right back in the box.  My old, broken down computer no longer recognizes a CD when it is inserted into either tray.  There was no way I could see what was on the CD. 

Instead, I started by unboxing (yeah - that's a word - I say so) the new computer. That seemed a sensible place to start, 'specially since I needed it to read the instructions on the CD, and it would go a long way toward reducing the pile of boxed crap that, according to my wife, needed to disappear.  I, myself, had started to grow fond of the pile.  But, she rules when it comes to interior decorating.  Can't imagine why she prefers a bland, empty couch to a pile of junk. It looked fine to me.

I pulled the tower out of the box, and the mouse dropped a couple of inches to the thickly padded new carpet.  Sweet!  I didn't have to look through all the custom designed, cut and folded cardboard that protected the contents of the box.  I carefully unplugged the old computer, one wire at a time, and moved it to the other side of my office.  Then, I plugged everything back together.  There are files and stuff I'm sure I'll need soon, so my old friend steadfastly waits on a small table across from my desk, secure in the knowledge it will again serve it's ungrateful master.

The monitor and printer and mouse were mated to the tower with ease, but my ancient keyboard, which I needed to use because the tower did not have a new one, had some sort of plug that did not fit into any orifice.   So, a trip to the local Radio Shack was in order.  I explained my problem, as best I could, to the Vulcan behind the counter.  He did not understand my problem, so I gave permission for him to use the Vulcan mind meld with the provision he not turn it into a mind melt.  "Ah-ha," he exclaimed, "You need a PS2 to USB adapter."  He sold one to me.

Once back inside the house, my Leatherman made short work of the protective plastic cover containing the futuristic item and I plugged that sucker in.  Every thing now fit and it was time to fire it up.  After looking twenty minutes for some sort of button that when depressed would cause the lights to, uh, light up, I called the "Geek Squad."  In pidgin English (none of those guys knows how to speak American English) he managed to convey the fact that Compaq hides the on/off button in a depressed area on the right side of the thing.  Who would ever think to look there?  I thanked him, hung up the phone and pressed the button.  Lights everywhere!

Following the on screen instructions, I pushed this, checked that and then came to the part that required the use of the keyboard to enter information.  I typed and nothing happened.  At all.  Another twenty minute call to the Geeks.  This time I was asked just how old was the keyboard I was using?  There was a girlish giggle on the other end of the line, and I was told it was way too old to be recognized by my wonderful new computer.  What the heck is that all about?  A brand new tire fits a seventy year old car every day of the week. 

Modern Marvels my a--.  Somebody should complain.  So, back to the store in Bend, a 42.3 mile round trip - yes, Martha, I kept track on the odometer,  for a new keyboard that fits my computer. 

By this time it was getting late.  I conducted the nightly ritual we complete each night with the end result of Carolyn laying in bed for the night.  Then I looked at the keyboard, the computer, all the boxes and wires and crap that had no intention of allowing me to connect to the Internet.  I said heck with it - I'll finish in the morning. 

This is getting a little longer than even I had imagined it would, and I'm only half way through the tale.  So, I'm saying to heck with this post and I'll finish it in the morning.  See?  I know when it's time to quit.