OK point taken.
@D - thanks for taking my comment in the spirit it was intended.
BTW - regarding performance, Win 8 is not that bad. As an OS it's middling decent. But my problem with Win 8 isn't with it as an OS
. My problem is that it's no longer just
that. It's now the linchpin in a larger overall strategy to move the population away from open standards and general purpose computers to a completely closed data appliance. It's a giant step backwards to 1960 when Sperry-Rand and IBM controlled just about everything related to computing.
To me it's not so much the greed and power trip Microsoft is on that I object to. It's the abandonment of an ideal
. This move represents a betrayal
of all the work everybody Microsoft ever rode in on the coattails of
- and who made possible most of what power and wealth Microsoft enjoys today. It's a betrayal of the social contract. To me it feels almost like the ending of Orwell's book Animal Farm
where the animals can no longer tell the difference between their old oppressors and their new masters.
Like all of Napoleon's speeches, it was short and to the point. He too, he said, was happy that the period of misunderstanding was at an end. For a long time there had been rumours-circulated, he had reason to think, by some malignant enemy-that there was something subversive and even revolutionary in the outlook of himself and his colleagues. They had been credited with attempting to stir up rebellion among the animals on neighbouring farms. Nothing could be further from the truth! Their sole wish, now and in the past, was to live at peace and in normal business relations with their neighbours.
There was the same hearty cheering as before, and the mugs were emptied to the dregs. But as the animals outside gazed at the scene, it seemed to them that some strange thing was happening. What was it that had altered in the faces of the pigs? Clover's old dim eyes flitted from one face to another. Some of them had five chins, some had four, some had three. But what was it that seemed to be melting and changing? Then, the applause having come to an end, the company took up their cards and continued the game that had been interrupted, and the animals crept silently away.
But they had not gone twenty yards when they stopped short. An uproar of voices was coming from the farmhouse. They rushed back and looked through the window again. Yes, a violent quarrel was in progress. There were shoutings, bangings on the table, sharp suspicious glances, furious denials. The source of the trouble appeared to be that Napoleon and Mr. Pilkington had each played an ace of spades simultaneously.
Twelve voices were shouting in anger, and they were all alike. No question, now, what had happened to the faces of the pigs. The creatures outside looked from pig to man, and from man to pig, and from pig to man again; but already it was impossible to say which was which.
But maybe that's just me.