On the way into work Triple J were giving away tickets to Rage Against the Machine if someone had a legitimate protest about a piece of machinery and submitted it to the station's blog.
One guy rang up about a squeaky garage door that his father refused to repair and which woke him up at 5.00am when he didn't need to be up until 7 . . well that doesn't rate too highly in my book. I have cockatoos that do the same. And I have a frustrating leaf blower where the choke is permanently out so DrummerBoy has arranged some ingenious silly putty remedy to make sure the mix doesn't get too rich. Plus the pump on my washing machine is tempermental and sometimes I have to stand with the hose lowered into a bucket in order to have it spin properly. Normally cantankerous machines don't bother me too much.
Today my rage was angled at a machine with whom I have a volatile relationshipo. MyPC which died last week is now hanging on by a thread until the newbie arrives in a week or so . . . it won't open the internet, crashes sporadically - I mean just restarts without so much as a 'may I', or closes Outlook if it doesn't like the sender of a particular email. So that combined with persistent web connection problems let to me talking to the very handsome (I've never met him but I'm sure he is) Rattie Mattie - by his own confession, "sweet, white and girly" . . . he made me laugh, he solved my problem and he calmed the savage breast . . .without him I may have sore knuckles and a broken screen.
He brought me from this: