Nips' Conniptions

We are gathered here, this day/ afternoon/ evening/ morning at 3:00 (Get a life), in solemn rememberance. We call to mind all of joys of this life: the amazing opportunity we have all been given; The gift that was stolen away so prematurely from our friends Tank, F12, and StickMouse. Keep in your minds and hearts all of what these brave young soldiers gave. They were selfless in their devotion to their cause. They layed down their lives for the greater good. Yea, though I may walk through the valley of Death, StickMouse always was there, and always will be there to provide direction! In times of darkness and BSoD's, you remained true, my good friend. You were always there... locked in bitter contention with RealMouse and TrackPad. Until, of course, you began to suck so badly that I had to cram on you to get you to move, leading to your doom, you lazy sack. Your brothers miss you and lament your passing. We can only hope that you are running free in heaven... perhaps even catching the little black arrow you so courageously and faithfully chased for oh, so long. A tear has been shed in your honor.

And you, F12! Stolen away before you have ever had the chance to prove your meddle! Ripped away from this plane of existance... you, sir, will, regretably, be missed only for your good looks. Indeed, while I can't think of a single instance in which you were ever called into action, there is a void in the key family portrait that cannot, despite great efforts to prove otherwise, be replaced. Perhaps if you had just practiced better hygiene: I don't want to point fingers or anything, but if you had just cleaned yourself, that rag never would have snagged you. Curse Dell, your creator, for giving you such a needlessly complex and fail-prone design. It was not yet your time. A pristine pencil was snapped and cast across the room in the general direction of the garbage in your honor.

And last, but most certainly not least... Tank. Brother, we have been through it all. I do believe that I have sustained permanant knee damage from your incredible girth and the relentless beatings you dispensed from within your cargo pocket position of power. While I never met your mother, I am quite certain that I would not want to meet her in any dark alley. Anything that could produce such a massive mostronsity as yourself would surely inflict the deepest of all pains on a starving Ethi such as myself. You survived through AT&T and Cingular, laughs, derisive remarks, and long distance glider lessons, with nary a scratch. The object of much mockery, incredible periods of misuse, and general old-and-busted-ness, your fate has finally played out, your card pulled. They say that the "Long Goodbye" is the most painful: The slip from reality. For the last 4 months you have been in intensive care, while your young, camera-bearing replacement was testing out his green legs. A call to the voice mail confirms it: Doctors at Cingular terminated your position this morning at zero hundred hours. The wicked witch of Nokia is dead. You have been launched out the window in your honor.

Hazzah.

You may go in pieces, low-quality consumer crap technology.

Posted by ndNips on Monday, November 07, 2005 at 2:37 PM | Permalink