Bailing Wire and Duct Tape

I would like to apologize for ranting so loudly here the last couple of times. First of all if any of you, my friends, reading this have relatives engaged in digital pursuits, I am not going to hurt any of them and you should be righteously proud of their achievements. I do not wish to take anything away from what they have done or do for a living. I don't really run in the circles of Bill Gates and am unlikely to have my way with him. Although my cousin in Kentucky is said to be on first name basis with him and Belinda. I am totally sorry for my rude remarks.
This sort of brings me around to the shoe episode. Nobody has had the nerve to say out loud that it's too bad the war criminal who pretends to be our president was not struck between the eyes with a steel toe wing tip on world wide TV. It would be a tiny first step on the road to his just punishment for killing a half a million people for no reason. The reporter who ballisticized his footwear did a brave and bold and powerful thing and I salute him and I wish I had the opportunity myself to have done such a deed.
On the subject of behaving badly and mean spiritedly, I must confess I am not half the man I pretend to be. At least regarding backing into people's cars on purpose. I did no such thing to Wendell's BMW though I claimed as much in the previous installment. It's William Shatner's fault. I just finished his breezy autobiobook called Up Till Now which he had help with of course. But that's OK. He is a busy guy who probably has trouble putting a sentence together if it is not written for him to memorize and speak before a camera and microphone. Several times in this book, Shatner will make a bold admission about a dastardly or brazen act he committed. About the time the reader can exclaim OH MY GOD, he recants with a GOTCHA! The timing is hard to master on the written page but he and the ghost writer nail it every time. You reach a point where when he makes an outrageous admission, you are waiting for the take-back but then it does not always come. Anyway, get the book and read it if you have nothing to do for a couple of evenings. If only I had been born a generation before in a Toronto Jewish neighborhood and had a stage mother to push me into acting, I might have been William Shatner or at least had what he has today. GOTCHA! I am an idiot and a dilettante and at least I sort of know it.
My digital memory hard drive is fixed. Thanks to my friends George and Mario who coached me via email on how to proceed. A $25 box enclosure to re-house the external drive cured the trouble. This was news to me but maybe you already know that inside these external HDDs there is a small interface card to translate the ethernet commands from your computer to parallel pulses that spin the motor and skate the heads to and fro over the whirling platters. This stupid little card with some tiny chips on it can fail early and often and unexpectedly. In my case, it did not send self destruct signals to the motors and heads so I escaped. This time. If I had not been able to simply drive across town to the computer repair depot to buy this ready-made pre-packaged solution, I would still be sitting by the side of the digital road with my hood up and the smoke roiling out and a dejected look on my face after searching my trunk in vain for something, anything to make a patchwork fix to make it to Winslow.