Pay no attention to the iMac that I just chucked out the window of a moving car on a busy superhighway during rush hour

Hey there! Remember me? Yeah, right: Jon, a.k.a. Daddy Scratches.

Man, things were really going well around here; traffic to the website was going up, up, UP, the audience was growing, and I was basking in the glow of your patronage and praise. Great for my self-esteem and sense of purpose. So, of course, that had to be stopped.

And thank GAWD The Universe finally stepped in and bitch-slapped me down a few notches, because I was beginning to fear I might be on to something BIG here, and what would I do with that kind of success? Pffft.

My iMac, my lovely, lovely iMac, whom I’ve loved and cared for and caressed and … oh, I’m sorry, did I say that last part out loud? Ahem. Well, anyway, I love Apple and everything they make … but suddenly, last week, my lovely, lovely iMac turned into the Technological Spawn of Satan, and its reign of destruction has continued unabated for days on end, causing this blog to become moldy and stale, and prompting my audience to dry up and blow away.

See this?

Spinning Beach Ball of Death

I see it, too … and I’ve been seeing it for roughly half of my waking hours for the past week or so.

That is the Spinning Beach Ball of Death, which is what one’s mouse cursor becomes when one’s iMac gets constipated. It is the Mac OS-equivalent of The Finger. Basically, my iMac has been flipping me off for days now.

I won’t bore you with all the bullshit I’ve gone through in my efforts to straighten it out, because oy-freakin’-vey already with the hours and hours (and hours) of attempting to straighten it out. Suffice to say, I’ve spent HOURS troubleshooting this clusterfuck, and I’m still stymied.


Today, boys and girls … today is a good day … because moments from now, I am going to pack up the rental van I obtained yesterday, and the Scratches Family will shortly thereafter officially be ON VACATION.

This evening, we head to my in-laws’ in Philly, where tomorrow we plan to lounge around the pool. This will be the vacation equivalent of a deep-sea diver stopping halfway down so his or her body can acclimate to the change of environment.

Then, on Saturday, we will take the full plunge as we venture further south to Bethany Beach, Delaware, location of The Beach House. This will be the third year that my in-laws have rented this huge, beachside abode, and if the previous two years are any indication, the coming week may very well restore what little sanity I had left prior to The Great iMac Fuck Up of 2009.

I commandeered Wonder Woman’s MacBook, and it is my intention to get some blogging done when I’m not swimming in the ocean, lounging in the sun or drinking more than my fair share of Corona and Patron, so I do hope you’ll stay tuned, and that you’ll forgive my transgressions as of late. (There will probably be Tweets and TwitPics aplenty, so be sure to check out the Daddy’s Briefs over there on the right, or latch on to my Twitter feed.)

I’m sorry, Internet. I still love you … and I hope you still love me.

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