Airdrop works like a dream

Airdrop icon.

On Black Friday, I bought the cheapest MacBook Air. No bells or whistles, just the essential Apple goodness -- and it was $100 bucks off. I use it only for writing. It has no photos on it, no music, just Scrivener (my writing program) and the zillion useful apps that come with every Mac.

I bought a Mac laptop because I knew it would work well with my desktop computer. And boy, does it! Both computers are running Lion, Apple's latest OS, which means I can use Airdrop to transfer files between the two. It works so well, it's frightening.

I can work on Xmas Carol on my desktop computer for a few hours and then drop the file on the icon of the Air. That's all I have to do. Then I leave with the Air, work on the book some more and when I get back, I drop the file on the icon of the desktop computer. And that's it. They're in synch. It's amazing.

We always knew that computers would work like magic someday. Thanks to Apple, some of that magic is here.

If life had a fast-forward button

The 1950s were so dull.

The title of this post is half of an old remark of mine: "If life had a fast-forward button I'd be dead." I was thinking about this today and wondered what it would be like to have such a device.

What if you could fast-forward through a bad day -- or week or month or year? Imagine that you could do this and add the notion that you'd age appropriately. In other words, you'd be that much older when you let go of the button. You would remember the time you missed but would never have experienced it as a first-person event. Would you use this device?

The span is what gets wild when you think about this. For instance, if I had possessed a magic fast-forward button when I was a kid in the 1950s -- I'd have skipped the whole damned decade. Life was far too dull in those days. Which means I would have missed my childhood -- I could live with a deal that.

So that's the question. Given access to a device like this all your life, how much time would you have skipped?

Magical ointments

Result of witchcraft?

What is it with Noxzema? As anyone who's ever used it knows, it's magical stuff.

I mean, there you are at your kitchen sink, gazing at your grey, corpse-like countenance in the mirror.

But you reach for that jar of Noxzema and put some on your face and then rinse it off -- and when you lift your head to look in the mirror, you see a young, pink, virginal face looking back at you. It's just not possible.
 
You don't think Chthulu is involved, do you?