Halle-flippin'-lujah

The silver moon rose over the little house in Fair Oaks. From a nearby pine tree, the tremulous voice of a small owl rose, as if in answer to some heavenly choir. The dogs of the little village did not bark and an unnatural peace was felt by all its inhabitants. Contentment reigned. There was joy, for the little iPod had returned home, and lo, the sacred box of the Gateway Dell was up and running. Google ran free; for Claire was at long last, on line.

Halle-flippin'lujah.


P.S. Last night I had to laugh at the audacity of Dell. While I was on line waiting to be served, they taunted me with an offer that for a FEE I could get service, with only a short wait, in which my call would be handled, …. Ok, get this… wait for it… wait for it…

by someone in NORTH AMERICA, and it was implied that person would not have an accent.

Can you believe that? The RAT-BASTARDS! Using their outsourcing of jobs to the kingdom of Whatthefuckistan to get a higher price for service that ought to be handled here anyway. What BIG-ARSE brass ones!