Freeday 4 August 2000

Pic of the day: OK, no porcupines here - I think. Who knows what hides in the shadows...

Porcupining

As I was reading the online comic Suburban Jungle, my browser suddenly crashed on me and took the operating system with it. After I reset the portable, I decided to download a newer beta of my favorite browser, Opera. The beta I used had served me well enough, but there was the occcasional horrible crash, as one can expect from beta software.

Looking up Opera Software, I found to my surprise (and somewhat to my dismay) that there was no more betas. Version 4 was released, in fact it was already up to 4.02. Now version 4 has a host of new advanced features in the same small and fast package, so usually this would be reason to rejoice. Except that Opera is not free, the way the Bloatware Twins are. You have to pay for the luxury of a leaner, faster browser with superior window handling. The price for a new non-educational user is $39, upgrade from earlier versions are $15. Hardly a huge expense even for me, but still a hassle.

Right now, I'm using Opera 4.02 with its 30 days free trial. After that, I may roll back to 3.62, but I doubt it. The new version is more convenient, has better Java integration, and besides I want to sponsor development of superior software here in Norway. The Bloatware Twins need the competition. :)

***

Apart from reading every last strip of Suburban Jungle, I also finished A Princess of Mars by Edgar Rice Burroughs. Sure, the Mars he describes is very different from what we know today. Of course, given the odd means of travel from here to there, Carter may just as likely have travelled to a parallel universe ... yeah, that's it. :)

Despite the bloodthirsty savagery, which I guess suited his time better than ours, it was overall a good read. Burroughs was a fluid writer, bereft of the awkwardness that so often strikes us amateurs. A natural talent, he ignored the rules of writing for a young audience. He would use long sentences or unusual words as he wanted, but the result was always readable, fluid and spellbinding. Wish there were more writers like him today, so clearly in love with their language and with their imagination.

Speaking of love, it was hardly a surprise to find that this book too had heaps of frustrated passionate romance, which was only resolved towards the end of the book. I've come to expect that from Burroughs. (Despite my advanced age, I never actually read his books until I found them at Project Gutenberg.)

***

Romance and passion everywhere. In the above mentioned freee online comic, a lot of the strips are about romance and the various complications that follow from there. It can be quite entertaining. I much doubt my life as a comic strip would attract that large an audience. Of course, it might help to draw me as a suitable animal. Cute animals has become a mainstay as comic characters. I wonder what kind of beast I would be? A hedgehog or porcupine perhaps?
"Q: How do porcupines make love?"
"A: Carefully. Very carefully."

Which is hardly the case for our great inspiration, that liberty statue of webcams, Jenni of JenniCam. Yes, even she recently fell madly in love, and after ca 3 weeks she had tattooed the guy's name on her finger and decided to move in with him. Superlatives simply are not enough in her online journal. Either you get it, or you don't, she claims. Well, not only do I not understand it, but it is such examples that makes me back away horrified from the very idea of romance. Carefully, very carefully.

Of course, it could been worse. I could have been longing myself sick for romance and passion, and I still wouldn't get any. Because I am the antithesis of romance and eroticism. I can't offhand remember the descriptions my female friends have given of my effect in that area. Basically it amounts to that I am to romance what Attila the Hun was to architecture. But hey, these are people who think it is a bad thing to go through the entire flat and replace the light bulbs with fluorescent tubes. And they would not think of cheap furniture if there was a dumpster on their doorstep.

And my "e-pal" asks me if friendship is the only thing I want from my female friend. Well, sometimes I'd like a hug. But not only do I act like a porcupine, I also feel like one, unless I've shaved during the last hour. Ahem. It's a family thing. I'm lucky to have beard nearly the same color as my face, so I can get away with saving up a little. As long as I keep the proper porcupine distance. Carefully, very carefully.