An enchanting tale full of magic pixie dust and funny talking animals and strangely effervescent elixirs and pots bubbling over with gold and silver and platinum and six-ring circuses (don't forget the bread n' butter n' raspberry jam) and dreamy adventures in faraway drug-addled cosmoslocked dimensions and artfully conceived pickup lines of a sexfully erotic nature was what I had in store for you all today but I changed my mind for national security reasons so now I will tell you about the weirdness that is Windows Media Player.
Why have I reverted to using that MICROSOFT CAN HAZ SATAN! product instead of iTunes? Because Apple, who make the Hippest Commercials Around, also make a product that, in addition to other carefully documented problems, at least 15-20% of the time [ed. note: compared to a measly 5-10% of the time with WMP, all of this proving why I prefer physical CDs to this technocrap because unless they've been horribly axe-murdered, CDs never fucking skip] leaves the freshly ripped sound files with randomly placed scratchy noises and various other sonic fuckeries regardless of how pristine the disc is or isn't without rhyming reasons for I've had early generation, visibly gouged albums from 1985 be smooth as Smoove B and brand spanking fetish new stuff go rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat.
"That's what the shit you dig sounds like anyway."
So, after the work computer got infected with
a virus originating from online porn sites the swine flu, I decided, in anticipation of The Great Re-Rip of 2009, to tell the Book of Jobs to go to hell so now I will tell you about the weirdness that is hell.
Dear Windows Media Player,
A CD that conjures up images of this
really shouldn't be labeled 'World.'
That's what happens when you outsource your programming to countries that don't even have rock and/or roll.