I was built in 1989. And no, I’m not a Windows or an IBM, and I’m definitely not a Macintosh — thankfully. Fucking Macs. This was around the same time Billy boy was telling the world that 512kb was enough memory for anyone, so I blame my horrible memory on YOU Bill Gates!!
Half of my parts originate from Bangladesh, and the rest from Australia, where I was assembled. I am a standard 1980’s male machine. These two third parties only produced one other model during their time together; a female unit. Alas, these two manufacturers are no longer affiliated with each other anymore. Oh well. Let me quote this annoying little 1 GB Flash Drive I used to hang out with — “Shit happens” (tell that to my Year 12 English teacher after you corrupted my 2000 word essay you fucking ass hole! Argh!).
My Central Processing Unit is good at understanding how an objects length contraction and time dilation varies in relation to its velocity (sort of) but can’t see that thing on the floor until my entire case has plummeted onto the ground after tripping over it. I swear I’d forget my 240 Volt power supply if it wasn’t screwed on.
All my life’s memories are stored on my hard drive. I’m guessing Mr. Gates contributed to its production, because my long term memory is atrocious. In order to preserve a memory it’s absolutely imperative that I transfer it to another unit’s hard drive; which leads me to social skills. I’m not the most gregarious chap, but I’ve been gifted (or cursed?) with an exterior case that creates the illusion that I’m socially adequate. Exactly what it is about my casing that begets such an erroneous judgment in others baffles me, but boy are they disappointed when they finally interact with me. Female units are especially quick to feign a faulty connection in order to make a quick getaway.
I think I’ve been programmed to be quite empathetic — I enjoy vicarious thrills almost as much as real ones. I also have quite a warm processor. Some say its altruism; others say its bad ventilation. I’ll let you decide. I’m happy to transfer some heat to anyone that wants it. Any takers? Didn’t think so.
I work hard to keep my mother board trim and healthy — albeit I don’t mind the occasional fatty input every now and then. My manual states that Input signals that involve anything from the ocean send my system into overdrive, and can result in a highly uncomfortable output which “Should be aimed at a toilet. A bucket will also suffice” (according to page 0; the one that comes before the front page, lest this vital fact end up unnoticed).
Oh I’m sorry, how rude of me. My name is 100101101011010010101, but most of the world insists on calling me Adam. I prefer the former, but what can ya do? As of now I’ve been around for 20 years, so I’m worth virtually nothing, and that figure continues to decline as each year goes by. This blog is the only method of communication I have left, as my extremely antiquated speaker system is malfunctioning. I hope you like it. If not… well I’m only programmed to care more. I couldn’t care less.