The malfunctioning iPod dilemma has been solved by temporarily costly measures that suit me and the Kid both.
For my French Mac-loving reader, I'll put in a good word for what must still be the best "Apple Store" in Paris, now that I've tried several over the years and always end up here. It's dangerously close to home, while Magic Mac now has a website.
Why, however, are so many people buying the iPod mini? They say it's a best-seller and white-wired travellers have mushroomed in the subterranean tunnels. This again I can't understand, preferring to hide most of my circuitry under my clothes. The mini may be precisely what it says and pretty to boot, but who really wants a 4 GB fashion accessory at a rip-off price when you can acquire 20 GB for not so very much more?
In the shop-window of false economies for the sake of show, the iPod mini strikes me as a top-shelf luxury offender.
Details of my radical decision will follow once the next battle with Apple has also been fought and won.
I'm banned from blogging much tonight because my parting jibes at the Factory, about Siberian yoghurt and a stained school tie long stored pending lab tests in 2020, so revolted people that they begged me to keep the rest of my "humour" for the morning.
So before disappearing into more of the X-Files (or something), let me for once say something nice about Apple. The French version of the music store has begun living up to its promise and I'm belatedly surprised that the quality of its AAC files, at 128 kbs, is just fine.
Ever the perfectionist, I generally opt for 192 kilobits per second, even with AAC.
Why, oh why, did I take so long to discover 'The Divine Comedy'? I do not mean Dante. A feller named Luke gave the precocious late developer I've always been the answer.
For reasons related to a recent visit to the bank, I'm currently trying to resist his suggestion to follow this remarkable path back to some of its roots among a bunch of 'Violent Femmes'.
This reminds me of the Wildcat.
Not because of the adjective, but because it was she who ... em, virtually, took me by the hand to see another Nick in action.
He and lyrics of the kind stressed-out girls at Cambridge University once listened to before slashing their wrists -- or was that Leonard Cohen? -- are helping me on my way to the Filthiest Mood of the Week Award.
If you're not turned on, even perhaps highly amused, by some of the videos currently available from Nick Cave & those Bad Seeds, then what can I say?
You're beyond redemption.
9:19:15 PM link 
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