In an article a day or two ago, I discussed the real Mac market share myth – that market share doesn’t matter.
In this article, I (how arrogant can you get) will offer the first step to a solution to the problem of the Mac’s declining market share. The first step, as always, is to put your finger on the real problem.
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Unbelievable. Unbelievable. Utterly, completely, incomprehensibly unbelievable.
That’s my reaction to my current web hosting company’s support policies. It’s so bad, I’d almost prefer NO support whatsoever. But it’s a little late for that, isn’t it? I’m tied in for a year.
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This is not a ‘normal’ blog, if there is such a thing. In other words, each post is not going to be a link to some other content somewhere on the web.
But this article is incredible. It’s by a father of one of the victims of the Columbine school shootings. And it’s deeply religious.
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Finally, some images on this site!
I was out one day just snapping pictures of anything that happened to catch my eye. A guy happened to see me twice – once on his way to the video store and once on his way home. Both times, I was capturing shapes and shadows on cinder-block walls. His comment? “You love shit on walls, eh?”
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The conventional market share myth in the Macintosh world is simple.
BMW only has a small fraction of the automobile marketplace, the Mac user may say, but no-one says that BMW is doomed, beleaguered, shrinking, dying, etc. etc. insert adjective of choice. Therefore Apple is safe as well, even if it is a niche product.
Well, I’m a long-term Mac user, devotee, and fan, but that’s not the Mac Market Share Myth. The real market share myth is that market share is not important.
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This is a children’s story that I’ve been working on for some time. It started as a story that I told to my daughter Gabrielle just before bedtime.
Seriously and soberly, I think it’s publication-worthy and am searching for a publisher … so if you know one or are one, let me know!
It’s written for kids from 2 to 6 or so, and intended to be illustrated (of course).
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So. My dad read a sermon the other day.
No, not in the sense you’re probably thinking – that he read the riot act. I am married, with children, in my own home.
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OK, what if the Canucks are toast again this year – I’m starting to play hockey again.
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I learned something new today – how to pour ketchup. I guess you can always learn something new!
Here’s the problem; everyone knows it: the ketchup stays in the bottle. Until you dig in after it with a knife, or, worse, it all comes gushing out at once.
But here’s how to fix it:
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Heya,
I’ve had this blog up for a little while now, perhaps two weeks, so I figure it’s time to say what it’s for … beside the obvious, which is basically whatever I want it to be for.
Well, it is a blog, so this is my place to put stuff that I’m thinking about. But it’s also a place for me to post some of my work, whether it’s children’s stories that I’ve written for my kids, a book I’m working on, poetry that I’ve written, or photos that I’ve taken.
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I read a book a couple of weeks ago that I really enjoyed on a variety of levels: Drifting Home by Pierre Berton.
Berton is kind of a Canadian icon; he’s written weighty tomes on a variety of Canadian and international issues; he’s written good histories (like Vimy Ridge) on key episodes in Canadian history.
Drifting Home is a totally different book … it’s a book about a trip he took with his family down the Yukon river … hence the ‘drifting’ part of the title. He grew up on the river, and his father was actually a part of the Gold Rush around the turn of the century.
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I’m attending BC Ed Online, a conference in Vancouver, and a Microsofie named Mike Parkhill (VP for education) gave a presentation.
Wow.
The guy was cool, he was interesting, he was humble, he mentioned Macs complimentarily, and he was smart. Much different than my perception (and past experience) of Microsofties.
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This poem is an attempt to recapture the magic of a poem I wrote in grade 4, of all times and places, which epitomized to my young brain the thought of absolute freedom … which was quite enticing.
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Hell is a very private place,
You make it:
It’s your own space.
This poem strikes me as rather pretentious, pedantic, and predictable … and no I wasn’t searching for ‘p’ words there! But what the heck, I wrote it late one night, it meant something to me then, and I include for the sake of authenticity.
Juvenilia villa!
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