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 Today at the office I ran into the guy who runs the Mac department. I held my hands six inches apart and made brackets with my thumb and middle fingers.
Oooh, he said.
It came today, I said.
Ohhh, he said.
Among the Faithful and the Elect, this was all you needed to say. The gesture was instantly recognizable: the new Mac Mini.
I was surprised to see the Mini show up today, in advance of the shipping date. Man: it’s small. It’s really small. The box was small. I took pictures of the unpacking ceremony, of course:
And then it sprung out at my head! Two hours later I was in the sickbay of the Nostromo, with a small computer attached to my face and a Firewire cord down my throat.
To show how small and light it is:
I didn’t have time to put it together, but I did remove all the wrapping. Something you did not know: The machine sits on a rubber pad. Bump the table – or the computer itself – and it moves not. It’s just gorgeous.
Went over to the Giant Swede’s house for an inaugural supper. Got into an argument over whether the Europeans should be treated with deference to assure future cooperation, or whether Bush should Taser Chirac the moment he sets foot in the Oval Office, just to set the ground rules for term two. I’d heard the speech earlier in the day, so I didn’t pay attention to the rerun. And I suppose some will say it’s just a rerun in the first place – blah blah freedom, blah blah tyranny, etc. I found it striking, but I suppose you’d expect I would. Still. In ten years, which do you think will be more relevant: the speech, or this Toles cartoon? (Yes, of course, that's where we're going. Dictatorship. Thanks for the heads-up.) I listened to a few hours of talk radio, where caller after caller lined up to explain why America could not stand for freedom for all manner of reasons – slavery, oil, Halliburton, Freemasonry, no gay marriage, FCC regulations on nipple-flashing, and all our other numerous sins that stain this shameful endeavor. And again, I return to the Kirk Doctrine, expressed in the Star Trek episode “The Conscience of the King.” He has passed judgment on a suspected tyrant, and the dictator’s daughter asks “who are you to judge?”
Who do I have to be? Kirk snaps.
The answer, I guess, is “Canada.”
The Week magazine sent me another sample issue, angling for a subscription. No thanks. “The REAL reason the Taliban had to go: oil.” Mm-hmm. “Is it time to stop hating Castro?” I don’t know; is he dead yet? “Is religion itself the real enemy to Western Civilization?” No, clever newsmagazine writers who lump together Islamic terrorists and Cambodian immigrant Lutherans in Fargo are the problem, inasmuch as they have no intellectual connection to the accumulated wisdom of the Western experience, and regard their cultural heritage as an expense account to be squandered at will. “Was Elvis really that good?” Them’s fightin’ words, sahr. On the cover: “American Supremacy: Can it Last? And should it . . .”
Well. Someone is going to be the strongest nation. You would prefer China? I suppose a united Europe could reign supreme, as long as nothing was required of them.
Anyway. Two words for the inaugural address: muscular optimism. Pessimism is my natural state, but I fight it. Appeals to my better self enthuse me.
But is he the tool of the Satan?
Well, duh. Rawk on!
Perm link: here.
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