You suck, Windows Media Player. You suck, you suck, you suck.
I felt like that needed an audience.
I'm really tired. I got six hours of sleep, and I know They would lecture me that's enough for me to run through my day with the speed and vigour of a centaur, but no. It's not enough for me. I . . . I hate it. I get these moments where I decide I'm going to do something and then I spend about two minutes writing that decision in my brain somewhere so another part of my brain can execute it.
It's like if Captain Picard had to go to his navigator's quarters every time he wanted to lay in a new course. That would be LaForge, Wesley Crusher, Ensign Ro, and that woman who was later on the short lived space marines show the name of which I can't remember. I can't remember her name on Star Trek: The Next Generation, either. What has become of this poor Trekker? Oh, space gods, answer me!
Oh, so why didn't I get enough sleep? Well, I had an appointment to get my car painted, because the paint on my four year old car has been vanishing mysteriously. But when I got to the dealership, an Australian man told me the paint job wasn't covered by warranty. So I'll shop around for a cheaper place . . . next week or something. I don't care about paint, I really don't. Life's too short. I have too much to do. I know the paint's supposed to protect the car somehow or other, which is the only reason I'm getting it done at all.
Where's the, um . . . oh.
And Windows Media Player sucks, too. I use the goodies from the Combined Community Codec Pack mostly, but now and then regular modern Windows Media Player is called for, like when I was trying to watch my "digital copy" of The Nightmare Before Christmas, which required an activation code and a sign up for some Windows Copyright Protection somesuch. There's a new anti-piracy ad at the beginning of the DVD, too, I'm guessing made as a rebuttal to "Weird Al" Yankovic's brilliant "Don't Download This Song" as it shows clips of Judy Garland in The Wizard of Oz confronting Oz for the first time calling herself "meek" and so forth. The implied message being, apparently, "Yes, we are as absurdly greedy as the parodies make us out to be."
Anyway, I'd better go salvage what I can from to-day.
Werner Herzog is the fucking shiznit, man;