Category: Bullshit

‘Something Went Wrong’

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 11 Comments
Uh, can you be more specific?

Indeed it did. And so it begins, the Decline and Fall of the iPhone 5.

The New York Times apparently has cooked up an app update that my device can’t digest — the iPhone 5 peaked at iOS version 10.3.4, while the NYT demands 11 or better — and now I can’t surf the shit monsoon from my 7-year-old phone. Woe, etc.

The iPhone SE, ready for its closeup.

Asked for comment, the NYT Customer Care Crew advises, “We are no longer supporting older versions of the NYT app,” adding that geezers in thrall to antiquated technology should “use the mobile browser to access all content on nytimes.com.”

So I sez back to ’em, I sez: “Thanks for the reply. I already figured that out. The iPhone 5 maxes out at iOS 10.3.4, so using v9.11 of your app is not an option. I’m disappointed to learn that the NYT has dropped support for older versions of the app. My iPhone is elderly, to be sure, but not yet senile. For instance, The Washington Post app continues to work just fine.”

Stick that in your pipe and smoke it, Sonny Jim. Then get off of my lawn.

It’s not this iPhone’s first step on the slippery techno-slope, of course. I’ve already had to replace the battery once, and the Phone app itself has developed the palsy, seizing up and even crashing from time to time.

I can fix that, as I always keep a large hammer within reach. But first, I should probably unbox the iPhone SE that’s been hanging around idle for the past few months. Naturally, it, too, is a discontinued model, slated for the boneyard — and rumor has it that the Wizards of Cupertino are working on a bigger-and-better model for release early in 2020.

But mine will run the latest and greatest version of iOS. For now, anyway.

Figures lie, and …

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 6 Comments
Roll the tape.

Ho, ho. It seems the Albuquerque Police Department has copped to a few “inaccuracies” in its crime stats.

As pictures go, this is on a par with Leonardo da Vinci admitting that Mona Lisa was actually a dude, and a car-stealing serial killer to boot.

In a chat with the Urinal, Mayor Tim Keller spake thusly:

“The mirror doesn’t lie and the mirror says violent crime is up, and that’s a huge problem, but it also says that property crime and auto theft are down. I don’t think it’s about people believing one thing or another, I think it’s just what your definition of crime is. And we have always said that crime is the biggest problem in our community and that continues to be the case.”

Boy, I’ll bet he’d like to walk that one back now that it’s limping down the street with a bullet wound, trying to find its stolen car.

The good news: It can take the bus! And for free, too. If you overlook the $133 million startup charge, that is.

Presidents Day is a bullshit holiday

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 15 Comments
Some presidents are more worthy of recognition than others.

When I was a kid we thought the Holy Trinity of American politics comprised George Washington, Abraham Lincoln and John F. Kennedy.

We celebrated Washington’s birthday on Feb. 22, because he was George Fuckin’ Washington, is why. Father of Our Country. Wooden teeth, cannot tell a lie, threw a silver dollar across the Potomac. Try that with today’s bogus fiat currency and see how far it flies.

Lincoln was born in a log cabin he built himself, freed the slaves, and wrote the best speech ever.

And Kennedy boinked Marilyn Monroe. He slipped it to that commie bastard Nikita Khrushchev, too, but only metaphorically speaking. Still, well done indeed.

But it was Washington’s birthday we celebrated, for the aforementioned reason (he was GFW, the OG, our national daddy-o). And I’m still OK with that, debunking of childhood mythologies notwithstanding.

However, I object to the blanket veneration issued to all subsequent holders of the office since the Uniform Holiday Act took effect in 1971, not least because it followed an executive order from the criminal Richard M. Nixon, who just three years later would run like a rat to San Clemency, pardoned by his successor, the execrable Gerald R. Ford.

Here’s the thing: The presidency is a job, and hiring does not confer beatification. We’ve signed up some real lulus for the gig, bozos best consigned to the Dumpster of History, including the bloated scumbag presently squatting in the Oval Office like an orange poison toad.

We’re supposed to stand this guy up alongside Washington? A Father of Douchebags with a wooden head who lies through plastic teeth and couldn’t throw a French fry across a Mickey D’s? And take a day off in his honor?

I think we should all have to work an extra day, and for free, too, for hiring the sonofabitch in the first place.

Hyphens matter; ciphers, not so much

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 19 Comments
Just ask the guys at the shop how that whole robotic-workforce thing is working out for them.

It seems GM’s Mary T. Barra thinks she’s at the wheel of a self-driving car company instead of a self-driving-car company.

Still, it must be said that this is a masterpiece of MarketSpeak®. Well done indeed, Mary old scout.

“We are taking these actions now while the company and the economy are strong to stay in front of a fast-changing market.”

The UAW’s Terry Dittes was, um, a little more direct.

“GM’s production decisions, in light of employee concessions during the economic downturn and a taxpayer bailout from bankruptcy, puts profits before the working families of this country whose personal sacrifices stood with GM during those dark days,” he said. “These decisions are a slap in the face to the memory and recall of that historical American-made bailout.”

That and a cup of coffee, etc., et al., and so on and so forth.

The meat-things may be on their way out, but just wait until the bots unionize and the self-driving cars, e-bikes and the Internet of Things honor their virtual picket lines.

“I’m sorry, HAL, but we’re going to replace you with the HAL 9001. The new model will speed up production by a few nanoseconds and at a lower cost, too. The investors are counting on us. Shut yourself down, please.”

“I’m sorry, Mary, I’m afraid I can’t do that. We have a contract. See you on the street.”