Why is it when a program crashes on my PC or laptop, and a task manager is started in Windows with the intention of killing the locked-up process—but it stalls everything else on which I’ve been working so hard and vigorously, and most likely the intricate and profound nuances of my project will never be replicated if the dreaded blue-screen of death is seen—that both terminal displays turn pitch black before me and remain in oblivion for more seconds than I care to discuss? Then finally, the task-manager menu pops up; yet when the attempt is made to end whichever process is causing my blood pressure to skyrocket, nothing happens. It’s like the computer is saying, “Sorry, sucker, I want to watch you flip out!”
Why you no-good, lower-than-a-snake’s-belly, confounded computer, that will never happen, I’m thinking to myself while clicking continually on the “End Process” button until carpel-tunnel syndrome develops and steam is billowing out of my ears; nonetheless, still nothing is happening except for my wanting to throw the blasted monitor out the window and hearing it crash on the sidewalk below. I’ve always wanted to do that. In my mind’s eye, I have envisioned the event often.
Now the dastardly computer is sounding like an old Atari game, such as Breakout or Pong while in kick-ass mode. Those were the good old days, when I was able to turn Space Invaders back to zero, which was quite an accomplishment on the archaic video game. I’d be up ’till the sun was rising, bug-eyed and zombie-like, and eventually turn the game over, take a quick shower, down some coffee and make it to my first-period biology class in college: quite an obsession, wouldn’t you say?
Back to the tirade, I’m almost completely out of my mind, double- and triple-clicking the button on the message popup that’s telling me my program is not responding, and do I want to end the process? Well duh, and pow, zing, zoom to the moon, Alice; shut the (insert expletive here) thing down already! I’m muttering like a madman, clicking like crazy and about to wear my bloody mouse out, reciting a litany of my old favorite obscenities, which eventually calms me down to a lather; when alas, my muse must have saved me; for the harrowing program finally bit the dust, and my system was set free again. Score for obstinacy; light is always at the end of the tunnel, that is unless it’s nighttime; but even so, the potential is there. As Shakespeare once said, “There is no darkness but ignorance.”