Chili’s, Santa Clara. After a long day at the Applied Materials contract.
As usual of an evening after Applied Materials, I’m exhausted — a combination of the work, and having to get up at 0500.
I’m three stamps away from a Southwest frequent flier ticket; why I should be excited about that I don’t know.
My god, I’ve decided to blow my diet already with this huge mass of fried onion. As expected, Apple didn’t announce their new portable platform Newton killer — old boy, you’re around for a few more days. It’s a wonder this keyboard still works, with all the grease I subject it to, let alone my arteries.
The thing about the Pinzgauer is it’s already making me think about vanity plates and whether VW should still be selling them new through dealers. I think people might actually buy them. They buy those POS Hummers, don’t they?
Every time I work on the Newton, I think of the tragedy — you know what I’m talking about.
Tonight rather than do any work at all, I’ll lie around and watch TV.
“Every time I work on the Newton, I think of the tragedy” — Apple killed Newton in 1998. Fred owned one from roughly 1994 to 2001 and never quite got over it.