The most humbling, sometimes depressing thing in a person’s life, besides dealing with uncaring unsmiling bureaucrats or an overseas telephone tech support operator, is making out a will. Listing all your assets, all your friends and family, people you care about and people you don’t particularly care about, Eeeesssshhhh! Now My Fair Lady’s mom wrote a will that wasn’t so much a will as a Hallmark® greeting card. There was no listing of the contents of all the material goods she had gathered through the years, no mention of certificate of deposits, savings bonds, checking accounts or secret Indian treasure stored under a mountain to the west of the hills of South Dakota. No, just a simple dictate: She loved her children, she expected them to love each other and instructed them to share and share alike. My mouth hung wide open at the reading at that will (there was a last minute codicil, I was given the car, since I chauffeured her mom around). Thank goodness that’s exactly what happened – My Fair Lady and her brother shared everything right down the middle – most any other family, that would have been ugly – most will readings are just bad television waiting to happen
- there’s a reality TV show in the making – The Will – watch dumbfuck families fight over estate of someone’s still warm body. Real ratings grabber, it would be a natural for NBC or FOX. Can’t wait for that to happen – Zuckerburg, Wilson – call me – you got the number!
Another bummer of major annoyance is when you’ve got your whole life stored on one hard drive with no back-up – and – you guessed it – it crashes big big big time and is totally unrecoverable. It’s the equivalent of witnessing a filing cabinet of your photos, videos, financial records, personal stuff go up in flames in an instant. This happened to fellow blogger in UK recently over at ZDNet. Three years of his life – ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZNNNNNNNNNNNKKKCCCHHHH -
that’s the sound of a hard drive crashing. But, some kind soul who read his column here in USA directed him to send his poor hard drive to his business’s office in Wales (they do hard disk recovery) and recovered all his files from the dead piece of metal.
Three years of his life reduced to 6 DVDs. Man, I wonder how many petafiles Larry Ellison’s life would take?