Annoying Customer of the Week

Annoying Customer: “Matt, help me. I’ve got a virus. You’ll need to pay a visit here today.”

Me: “Ok, what kind of virus do you have…?” *in my mind “Is it AIDS?”

Annoying Customer: “I don’t know. Microsoft is telling me that there are a bunch of infections, and something keeps popping up and now we can’t see the screen and then our Quickbooks is too big and then it pops up and does a scan and tells us that we are infected with a Trojan and then when we try and click it doesn’t do anything. It say’s I need to click here to download something to fix the problem. Is that Microsoft telling me I need to download something? Should I do it?”

Me: “Hmm… so, there is a window popping up telling you that you are infected and that you need to download something in order to fix the problem?”

Annoying Customer: “Yes.”

Confused Me: "Ok, that thing that is popping up, claiming to be Microsoft, is actually the infection itself."

Annoying Customer: "They can do that?"

Annoyed Me: "Yes."

Confused Me: “And you said it is doing something with your Quickbooks and won’t let you click anything?”

Annoying Customer: “Yes, well, I mean I think so. It’s just really big.”

Confused Me: “Big?”

Annoying Customer: “Yeah, it’s too big to fit on the screen.”

Confused Me: “..... ..... Ok. Well, it sounds like you just have a pretty fun virus infection. I can come over in a few hours to take care of it for you.”

*A few hours and one twenty minute drive to this man’s business later…

Annoying Customer: “Ok, here it is, come take a look and see what you can do.”

Me: “Oh, yeah, I’ve seen this infection before. I should be able to get it off.”

*Matt runs a virus scan and removes the virus…

Me: “Ok, the virus is gone and everything seems to be working fine.”

Annoying Customer: “So, how did we get this virus? Should we have gotten a different computer?”

Me: “I’m not sure how you got it, probably in a bad email attachment or something. The computer you are using doesn’t really make any difference. The difference mostly lies in your anti-virus/malware software."

Annoying Customer: “So, now that it’s off, it can’t come back again, right?”

Annoyed Me: “No, it’s like I’ve explained before, just because you get rid of a virus doesn’t mean that it can’t come back.”

Annoying Customer: “So how can we prevent it from happening again?”

Annoyed Me: “Just don’t open suspicious emails or download anything that you’re not 100% sure of.”

Annoying Customer: “Well, what if it happens by accident? Isn’t there any other way to be sure?”

Annoyed Me: “You could disconnect the internet.”

Annoying Customer: “Well, we can’t do that, we need the internet, we just don’t need the viruses.”

Annoyed Me: “You and everybody else.”

Annoying Customer: “So, this virus can’t come back, right?”

Annoyed Me: *in my head “Are you fracking serious?” *audibly “Only if you let it back in.”

Annoying Customer: “How is our virus protection? Is our virus protection going to stop all the viruses from getting in?”

Annoyed Me: “It should catch most of them, but no anti-virus program is perfect. Just watch what email attachments you open and what files you download off the internet and don’t let anyone look at porn.”

Annoying Customer: “Who makes these viruses? They should really do something to stop them.”

Really Annoyed Me: *In my head… “I want to write a virus that shuts you up. And who do you mean by “they?”” *out loud… “Just people up to no good. There are laws that try to prevent people from creating viruses, but a ton of them come from overseas…”

Exactly.

Adventures in Octogenarian Land

It was a slow day at the shop. Aside from a few customers coming to the shop in search of various computer parts, there was peace in computer land. The hours passed by quickly from opening time to one o’clock in the afternoon, a common side effect of a tranquil work environment which allows for nearly continuous work on computers without interruption. Then, a quarter after one, a pair of unlikely computer users in the form of octogenarians came. They came like most old people come. Smiling, walking approximately two feet apart from each other, as most old couples I see do, and walking rather slowly. The old man held the laptop case in his hand. I knew from the way the old lady’s eyes latched onto mine that this was a visit being made after considerable effort had been put in to resolving whatever issue was at hand. Those visits are NEVER fun. Never. Never, that’s important to know. Never fun. Not once. Ever.

“Hi there! What can I do for you today?” I greeted, successfully hiding my true feelings from view.

“Well,” the old lady started. “We can’t figure out what the password is on this new computer that you guys put on. We’ve been trying it for days ever since we picked it up.”

“So, this is a new laptop you bought from us? And you aren’t sure what the password is to get on?”

Now, we never put passwords on user accounts in Windows unless the customer asks us to. I figured that it was possible that they asked us to set up a password for them, and we had mistakenly mistyped it, explaining their current predicament.

“Let’s take a look at it here and see if we can’t get things squared away.” I offered. I’ve discovered that old people respond well to the phrase “get things squared away.”

I took the laptop and set it on the counter and turned it on. After a few seconds Windows had booted up and was waiting at the logon screen, but it was the logon screen that has you type the username in one line and the password in another line. I noticed that their laptop has a biometric scanning device (aka a fingerprint scanner), which uses software that causes Windows to only logon in this manner.
Now, since I have been dealing with computer problems for a long time, I know that most of the time problems people have are either non-existent of very easily resolvable (remember my first blog entry ever?). To that end, I hit enter without entering a password in. Not surprisingly, there was no password. Windows let me in without a fuss, just by pressing the enter key.

“Looks like there was no password. You just have to keep it blank and it will let you right in.” I stated, looking into the eyes of one seriously bothered octogenarian woman. Her stare almost gave me the willies. Almost.

“My goodness!” She responded, “All that time I spent trying to figure out the password and there never was one?”

“Yup. We have a strict policy of only putting passwords on computers if requested.” I tried to sound professional, hiding the ever slight tone of mocking in my voice. I really do try to be nice.

She looked at me for a few more seconds, then at the computer, then back to me. After repeating this for the third or so time, she looked up. I thought we were done. Congratulations, I thought to myself. That was entirely not as unpleasant as it could have been!

For a moment, I was happy.

Then.

“Wait, while we’re here.” She started.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” I screamed inside my head.

“While we’re here, can you show my husband how to do that? This is his computer, and I want him to be able to do that when we get home.”

“Sure thing.” I responded, supposing that maybe something as easy as pressing one button really did merit extra practice.

So, I logged out of the account, and told the old man, who was now standing at my side, to press the enter button. He did. It worked. I wanted him to throw his hands in the air and shout “Yatta!” Like Hiro Nakamura on Heroes when he accomplishes something great.

“Ok,” the woman added, “now can you show him again how to access his Naturally Speaking program?”

“… Sure…”

With the man in front of the laptop, looking straight at his desktop, I started guiding him towards his goal.

“Ok, now you need to move the cursor to where that green icon is at the left side of the screen.”

A few seconds passed.

“There’s the cursor, right there.” I said, pointing with my finger to the cursor on his screen, which rested near the upper right hand corner. I suddenly knew that the cursor was about to embark on an epic journey across the monitor. I was soooooo right.

“And where do I need to put the cursor?” The old man inquired.

“Right here,” I encouraged as I pointed to the green icon for the SECOND time.

He then put his fingers on the touchpad and started to move them. The cursor didn’t know what to think. Try using three fingers on a touchpad to move the cursor accurately. It can be done, but it doesn’t make things easy. Three minutes passed while he tried to get the cursor over the little green icon, all the while ignoring my advice that one finger on the touchpad might suffice. Three whole minutes!

Finally, he got the cursor where he wanted it. “Now what?” He asked. “Now, you click this button twice as fast as you can.” I replied, praying with everything I had that he would be able to do this without bumping the cursor off its target. Apparently, I had enough faith, because he successfully opened his program.

“Now,” his wife, not waiting two seconds, started again to my extreme horrification. “Let’s have him do it all from the beginning, so he can do it when we get home.”

I died a little on the inside.

Another ten minutes were spent directing him from logging into Windows to opening his Naturally Speaking software. When he opened up the program for the second time, I thought perhaps we were done. I should have known better. His wife, who all this time had been on the opposite side of the counter, decided to come to our side so that she could better see the screen. When she arrived, seeing his program opened, she started asking even more stupid questions.

“Why does it say that the microphone is turned off?” She started off with.

“Because no microphone is plugged in.” I answered as bluntly as I knew how.

“What does he do now with the program?” She continued, not missing a beat.

“Whatever he wants to do.” I answered honestly. Geez, why did you people buy the program in the first place? Surely there was an objective. Why not try accomplishing that? Oh wait, I think I know the answer to that one…

“Ok, can you tell me all of that again, so that I can write it down?” Her voice was really starting to bug.

“From where exactly?” I asked, honestly not knowing exactly what she wanted me to tell her.

“From the beginning.”

“… … … … Ok…” I complied, feeling my strength leave me.

I started dictating instructions while she jotted them down, word for word, beginning with “press the power button to turn the laptop on,” and ending with something like “then begin using the program to do whatever it is you turned on the computer to do in the first place.”

I’m not sure how much time passed between when they walked in and when they left. I do know that it took an episode of Modern Family and Fringe on Hulu to recover from it.

Speakers Don't Work by Faith Alone

Today, a man of distinct, non-pleasurable odor and form returned to the shop for the third time in two weeks. The height-challenged man first came to use to have some viruses removed. Three or so days after he retrieved his computer from us, he returned claiming that the sound no longer worked. Eager to change the location of this man to somewhere outside of the shop as soon as humanly possible, I agreed to take a quick look at his computer to see if I could solve his problem on the spot. I booted up his computer, told him that if he wanted sound he would have to de-mute his volume, and sent him on his way.

Now, because I forgot to offer up my daily sacrifices, as I arrived to work this morning, I spotted the short, smelly man waiting for us to open up shop. I opened the door, expressed a highly falsified happy greeting, and asked him what I could do for him. He explained that his speakers still didn’t work. I took a step back to grab a breath of air. This time he decided to bring us his speakers along with his computer for us to look at. I told him that I wouldn’t be able to look at his computer right away, as the workbench was completely full. He said he would come back later in the day. Thank George Lucas he didn’t want to wait around. The smell would have killed me. Anyway, I plugged in his speakers and everything worked just fine. That’s right, just fine. When he came back, he looked somewhat surprised to hear sound coming out of his speakers. He told me that he had spent upwards of ten hours messing around with things, trying to get his sound to work. He then came over and took a closer look at how everything was plugged in. He suddenly took on an air of despair and sighed. He looked at where the power adapter plugs into the back of the sub woofer and said, “So, the power… the power has to be plugged in too? Oh…”

Forty five dollars and a stinky shop later, he left with what he could muster of his pride. Maybe he won't come back for a while. Either way, I'll never forget to offer up my morning sacrifices again!

4 Stupid Phrases I’ve Recently Heard at Work

1- “We need to get on our horse and go!” Said LG (the boss) nonchalantly, yet full of energy as he walked past my co-worker and I one weekday morning moments after arriving to work. The phrase hung in the air cold and alone as LG continued walking by. In my head (as I have learned better than to voice questions that might elicit undesired explanations), I questioned. Yes, boss? I might need a little help understanding this one. Boss? Care to elaborate? Boss? Do we have a horse we need to get on? Boss? Boss?

2- “I also need to have at least 4 gigawatts of RAM.” Said the fifty year old man with the mind of an octogenarian. This strange requirement followed a nearly fifteen minute explanation as to why his new computer would need a fast processor and the internet. It was followed by another thirty minutes of explaining why he needed a five hundred megabyte hard drive to store his vast collection of pictures and a video card so that he could do his genealogy. Sometimes I correct people when they use incorrect terminology. Other times I think about blogging.

3- In the would-be-spoken words of Captain Jean luc Picard, the not-so-captain of any intergalactic starship spoke commandingly to his computer via one newly installed speak-to-type program “Computer, please open my word processing program.” A few moments passed by with no results. “Computer, computer?” Oh boy.

4- “Do we have the um… thing ready for… um… what’s his nuts?” Another LG statement. It was made about ten times better when he stood there, completely expecting me to understand and respond to his question.

I wish I could have made this a list of five, but it's late and for the life of me I cannot remember anything else, even though I am more than certain there are more.

Once Upon a Time...

Once upon a time, I:

- Listened to Dave Matthews Band for the first time in Jr. High and fell in love with their music.

- Spent 14 years listening to their music, hoping to one day see them live.

- Got excited when they were coming to town in 2008.

- Got unexcited when the show was cancelled.

- Got super excited / bought tickets early in 2009 when they announced a show in WVC.

- Got super unexcited when my wife and I arrived at the concert early, only to be greeted by a sign saying that the show was once again cancelled, or as they beautifully put it "postponed."

- Hunted down the fates and killed them.

(Everyone should be experiencing an increase in luck right about now. No need to thank me.)

It's Riddle Time

Look at that. I'm alive. Yes, I'm alive and I have a riddle. It only took me like two days to solve the bugger. Now I'm sharing it with you. Those of you who play video games may have already heard it.

The answer is three numbers. Nine are we when taken all three. Last one slain, then six remain. None survive, our first less five.

Be Prepared

I emerge from the depths of wherever it is I've been for the last month or so to bring you this... Please enjoy it as much as I did!


Are Violent Video Games Adequately Preparing Children For The Apocalypse?

The Pain in my Brain

I recently emerged from lying on the cold concrete floor of my shop in the fetal position to write this entry. It is not easy to make me lay on the ground in such fashion, unless you are tickling me or enticing me with food. So let me just say right from the start that the reason for my pre-infant like behavior was talking on the phone for nearly thirty minutes with one of the dumbest people I’ve ever had the misfortune to encounter. Worse, she’s on her way here! (Kids, this is what happens when you forget to offer up your sacrifices in the morning…) Please allow me to vent and share the pain that I feel.

“This is Matt, how may I help you?” I answered the phone, full of life and energy at the hope of having a wonderfully wonderful day.

“Hello? Hello? This is Linda, hello? Are you Jason? This is Linda. Hello?” A raspy voice responded.

“I’m sorry, Jason isn’t in right now. Can I help you with something?”

“Oh shoot!” She spoke as if I had told her that her oxygen tank was missing. “Will he… um… will he be there… I mean… will he be there soon?” The voice became raspier with each passing word.

“No, he’ll be in this afternoon. Is there something I can help you with?” I responded, weary of what I was probably in for.

“Well, you see… this is Linda. And yesterday … um… Jason helped me with my computer.” She then went on to tell me how she had brought her computer in and had Jason look at it. “But he couldn’t find anything wrong with it.”

“Uh huh.”

“But, well, I, um, I brought it home, and, um, I, um hooked it back up, and, um, well, there’s nothing on the screen, um, I mean it’s all black. Is it possible that I did something wrong?” The raspy voice was really, really, really starting to annoy by this point.

*in my mind, I said “It is more than possible.”

*out loud, I said “It’s possible.”

She went on “Well, I’m looking at, um, the back of the computer, and um, I can see some cords.” Confusion enveloped her words.

“Uh huh. That is normal.”

“There’s a white one that comes from the monitor. Do I have it plugged in right? I just worry that it, um, might not be plugged in right.” She sounded as if she was going to have a panic attack on the spot.

“Where do you have it plugged in? Did you have to force it into one of the ports?”

“Well, it’s um, what does the port look like? It’s kind of really close to, um, two black cables. Does that sound right? What if I have it plugged in wrong?” The anxiety in her voice redoubled. The raspyness (that really needs to be a word) was becoming unbearable.

“If you have it plugged in wrong, it won’t work.” I replied. I then did my best to describe what the correct port looks like, and that there might be two of them. It was like teaching advanced neuroscience to an infant.

“Well, um, could the monitor be bad? It’s like thirteen years old.”

“Thirteen?”

“Yes, but its always worked fine before.”

“I see.”

“I have two, um, BSP’s plugged in right next to each other. There’s also a yellow cable. Um, could that maybe, um, have something to do with it?”

“…… …… …… Are the BSP’s rectangular on the end?”

“Yeah, I think so, what are they plugging in, um, to? I can’t seem to follow the wire. How can I tell where they are plugged in? And can this yellow, um, cord be doing something, um, bad?”

By this point I was looking for any razor blades within reach. I figured it would just be better to end things permanently. My wise physics professor’s advice kept running through my head. “Don’t cross the street, run all the way down the road.”

I could keep the dialogue going for another five pages, but I don’t want to risk any of you suffering irreparable brain damage. Suffice it to say that she didn’t remember anything I said for more than two seconds, which caused her to ask most of the above questions another four or five times. Eventually the call ended, with her claim that she would bring her computer and monitor into the shop for me to look at. After a few minutes I realized I was on the floor in the fetal position. The only thing that got me up off the floor was the knowledge that I am going to eat a Gyro at the Pita Pitt for lunch today.

Hurray!

Time and Things

Time has no real meaning to me during any given college semester. Every day seems the same as the day preceding. Nothing ever changes. There is little to no variety in my life. I wake up reluctantly. I go to school unenthusiastically. I go to work begrudgingly. I go home and do homework exhausted. Not necessarily in that order. Then I repeat everything the next day. Sometimes friends find ways to steal the time I would otherwise spend doing homework, which is probably one of the most awesome blessings ever. Thanks to all of those time thieves. They keep me mostly sane.

Last night I was writing in my journal. I’ve become a relatively regular journal writer. It’s nice. I like it. However, sometimes my entries delve into an inner discussion of how boring life is that manifests itself nicely on the screen in story form (my journal is electronic in nature). Such was the case last night. As I wrote down these inner feelings, musings, odd interpretations, and random thoughts, I thought I heard the screen take voice and shout “MORON!!! Life is what you make it. Life is only as boring as you let it be. If you think your life is mundane, DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!”

I stared for a good minute at the screen, trying to decide if it actually yelled at me or if I need to be tested for schizophrenia. I decided that the screen really did yell at me, so I told it to shut up because screens don’t know anything.

It took me about three minutes to finally concede that my computer was right.

Even in the most boring and repetitive of tasks, one can find something in which to be interested. It’s all about perspective. Having the right perspective affects your attitude. And your attitude affects every aspect of your life. There is no way around it. The moral of this little blog entry is that you must always be aware of your attitude. Don’t get caught in a funk. A conscious effort to maintain a healthy perspective goes a long way to overall self fulfillment in life.

That said, I’m off to my Bio-Psych class, where we will very likely discuss different ideas of what consciousness actually is. Interesting stuff. More blogs to follow, hopefully today.

My Week

On Monday I spent the better part of an hour on the phone with an old man trying to help him login to his online email account.

“Okay, now enter your username and password.”

“My what?”

“Your username and password.”

“My what?”

“Your username and password.”

“What’s that?”

On Tuesday I helped another old guy “fix his broken computer” by showing him how to disable Outline Dragging in solitaire.

“My computer don’t work.”

“What’s the problem exactly?”

“When I try to drag a card it disappears on me.”

“...........uhhhh........oh, I think I know…”

On Wednesday I tried to explain to a lady how computers can get viruses even if (or especially if) you just paid sixty dollars for the latest Norton anti-virus protection software. I don’t think she believed me. She didn’t want to believe. Perhaps I now know how Mulder felt. Annoying.

“So, how did this virus get on my computer anyway? I have that Norton protection. It cost me sixty bucks.”

“Norton’s detection software isn’t perfect. There really isn’t any way to stay 100% protected as long as you’re connected to the internet.”

“So, I paid Norton sixty bucks for nothing, and now I have to pay you eighty five??”

“Yes. Plus tax.”

On Thursday I had to spend nearly all day moving everything in one office to another office and visa versa. Such a pain.

On Friday my boss messed up an order on parts for a server we are building. I had to listen to him make every attempt imaginable at placing the blame on someone other than himself, then complain about how much this mistake was going to cost him.

On Saturday I slept in, had the day off work, lounged around, and watched Kung Fu Panda for the first time. Hilarious!

Ok. Now that you're up to speed with my week, allow me to switch from recalling the past to explaining the future.

Today. Sunday.

Because of this day, I will be able to forget every last stupid person I had to deal with during the week. Every textbook chapter I had to read. Every test I had to take. And all this for a very, very special and legitimate reason. Allow me now to explain why this Sunday is a bit more special than any other given Sunday.

Two words.

Pie Night.

At approximately six thirty tonight, me and my immediate and extended family will journey to the home of my grandparents to eat pie. Lots and lots of pie. Each family will bring an unhealthily beautiful number of pies with great variety to be shared. Tonight pumpkin, raspberry, butter pecan, apple, key lime, banana crème, chocolate, ice cream, and peach pies will accompany a plethora of delicious homemade cheesecakes to fill my grandmother’s kitchen to the brim and provide me with everything I need to gain ten pounds. There are only a handful of days in the year that I look forward to more than this one.

Last year I ate thirteen pieces. This year I’m shooting for seventeen. It is going to be a good evening.

Wish me luck.

Cake

I’ll get to the cake in a minute. First…

I find myself in a less than desirable situation. I call it Night Class. The way I see it, I have two options. I can pay attention and try to learn something or I can blog and let you all into my mind. I’m pretty sure that trying to pay attention will only result in me sleeping, so welcome everyone to my mind.

Short Story: Dumb Man of the Day.

I answered the phone at work today (mistake); it was a secretary from one of the companies for which we do computer support. She explained that one of the companies’ VP’s had a home computer that was plagued with a "multitude of problems." I arranged to meet this person at his home just after lunch to make his computer happy again. When I met him at his house, he explained that the problem was simply that he couldn’t get the printer to work. So much for the multitude… I then listened to a five minute story about how several of his “computer savvy” neighbors had spent hours trying to fix the problem, to no avail. I then sat down at his computer and pulled up the list of installed printers. There was one. It matched the printer on the desk. In the printer status section was one phrase. Two perplexing, nearly impossible to decipher, impossibly big words stared at me from the glowing screen.

“printing paused.”

Two clicks of the mouse solved the problem. Honestly, I’d be willing to wager that my grandmother would be able to figure this one out! I want to meet his neighbors that spent hours trying to fix this. Maybe I don’t. Either way, I got the satisfaction of leaving him a hefty invoice for a two second job.

Stupid Moment: Two of the Dumbest Questions I've Ever Been Asked (by my least favorite blind customer (last friday))

In talking about audio extension cables, I was asked, word for word, no kidding.

“Now, is the ten foot cable longer than the six foot?”

Later in that thirty minute conversation from hell, the topic changed to external hard drives. In talking about hard drive space, he asked.

“So, I have a 250GB hard drive with my programs on it and a 160GB hard drive with my music and movies. Is a 750GB external drive going to be enough to fit everything from both drives?”

And finally, the Cake.

To truly understand, you must play and beat Portal by Valve. I have a new phrase by which to live my life. It goes.

“There’s no sense crying over every mistake, you just keep on trying ‘til you run out of cake.”

the link

Nostril Abomination

A few weeks ago, I had the inopportunity to assist a man at work who I can only describe as the worst smelling human being in the entire world. I lived in São Paulo for two years; I thought I knew what bad smells were. I’ve been around some disgusting people, but this man in his old-man-one-piece-jumpsuit-of-nastiness took the entire rotten cake all for himself. The moment he walked through the door of the shop, everyone inside was aware of his nauseating presence. I thought I saw the very paint on the walls shrivel together and squirm in a desperate attempt to find clean oxygen. Not a full second later, my mind, being fairly analytical, immediately began thinking of possible causes for the stench. Perhaps he hadn’t showered for a few months. Perhaps he hadn’t washed his jumpsuit (or changed it for that matter) for at least that long. Perhaps he had tripped over a crate of stink bombs. Perhaps he lived with his dog…in a dog house…with stink bombs…or… Then, mid-thought, my increasingly disgusting train of thought was cut short when I realized that the thing was standing less than two feet from me. I couldn’t bring myself to speak first. There was a moment of silence, where his eyes met mine like a ruined River Folk man would eye another man who just might be able to tell him where to find his “precious”. He then, undaunted by my silent expression, mild gagging and blood shot eyes and probably motivated by the severe hope for human interaction, started talking, and as a consequence of opening his mouth, began to poison me. Immediately, as if by some Geek Hallucinatory Self-Preservation Mechanism (GHSPM), I saw a green oxygen status bar appear directly over my head and slightly to the right, identical to the one in MGS that lets you know when Snake has been under water for too long. Upon inspection, I realized that the bar was depleting at an alarming rate. I knew that my time in this man’s presence would have to be limited, since I really didn’t want to depart this life breathing such foul air. So, when the green bar had nearly reached its end, I excused myself to the back of the shop, and finding that even the back stank of the vile matter, opened the back door and welcomed in many a fresh breath before returning to my predicament up front.

His visit seemed to last an eternity.

Unfortunately for me (and a handful of others whose nostrils were violated along with mine), this visit would not be his last. In fact, he would be back at least once a day for the four or five days that we were working on his project, completely unaware of his effect on others.

If he ever does come back, I am going to kindly tell him that we no longer want his business and invite him to not return until his odor has improved. Honestly, someone really needs to do the man a favor and throw him in a river. Bonus points if there are rapids. I don’t understand how somebody can be that unaware of their physical condition. Perhaps the fates have become bored with simply sending me stupid people… Or maybe this is my punishment for letting a month slip by without blogging.

My Qualm

Let me tell you a story. Last year around Christmas time, I began to hear a lot of talk amongst the females in my life, family and friends, about a series of books that told a vampire love story. I, being one who loves to read good books, found myself torn. On one side, I love vampires. Always have, always will. On the other side, the females in my life absolutely loved them. This is normally a bad sign, since up to that point, the only other books that were of a mutual liking were the Harry Potter books. Normally, said females try to get me to read mormon fiction and books about lost diamonds and stuff. Yuck. I’m a predominately Fantasy and Sci-Fi kinda guy. Then Christmas came around and my sister got the first book in the series called Twilight. Since I like to read a book before I decide I dislike it, I asked her if I could read it. It took me about two days and I loved it! After the first book, I went to the store and got the next two installments. About a week later, I was uber sad because the fourth book wouldn’t be out until the fall and I was left with many an unanswered question.

Now, for my qualm. Judging a book without reading it isn’t fair to the book, the author, or the people that enjoy it. Honestly, if you read a book and dislike it, that’s one thing. It has happened to me a lot in my life (i.e 97% of the books they made me read in school)! However, basing an opinion about something in ignorance is nigh unto the best thing you can do to make yourself look like a complete idiot! Over the past eight months I have heard a plethera of insults directed at the series by ignorant people, especially males. “It’s a chick series, what kind of guy would read it?” “It’s really just a stupid girls book.” “I would never, ever read them.” “Dude, I can’t believe you read those chick books.” “Do you want to marry a vampire now?” There are more, but you get the picture. Now, all of the above quotes were made by different males that I know. And there is one thing that they ALL have in common.

NONE OF THEM HAVE READ ANY PART OR PORTION OF THE BOOKS!

That’s right, not a single word. Now, I can understand if you don’t want to read them. There are a million legit reasons. You don’t like to read. You don’t like books written in first person. You don’t have time. You have a million other books you’re trying to read, etc… But for some reason, they see it fit to attack the books rather than simply pass. Maybe they think their penis will fall off if they read them. Perhaps they can’t bear the thought of anything infringing on the manly man image they hold onto for security in their minds. Honestly, I have no idea what the real reason is.

Really, the books are very well done. I normally dislike books written in first person, but these are amongst the very few exceptions. The story is intriguing and well plotted. The character development is fun and interesting. Even the suspense is superbly done. Stephenie Meyer really is a gifted author.

So please, stupid males, stop judging the books in ignorance. If you wish to judge and attack after you’ve read them, be my guest. But until you read them, stfu and go eat a rare steak.

Doctor Horrible

Joss Whedon is my Master. Visit the link, if you haven't already, thank me later.

http://www.hulu.com/watch/28343/dr-horribles-sing-along-blog