My definition: A device used to break up dirt clods in a plowed field being pulled by a John Deere tractor.
RAM: Actual definition - Random Access Memory
My definition: A large male member of the goat family.
CD-ROM: Actual definition - Compact Disc-Read Only Memory.
My definition: Calm Down - Return to Old Methods
HTML: Actual definition - (I still have no idea).
My definition: Holy Toledo! Mother-in-Law! when greeted at the door by a visitor with a suitcase.
Adding insult to injury, just as I was feeling a little comfortable with turning the thing on and off, a smart aleck named Bill Gates came along and dropped a rock in my churn with something called “Windows.”
Since then I’ve had to learn the purpose of those goofy looking icons while getting hopelessly lost in a maize that ends up at a site that my mama used to whip me for looking at. She would tear certain sections out of the Sears and Roebuck catalog to keep me from going down the path of shame and perdition, yet even Bubba’s Used Electric Motor Emporium web site has a purty, scantily clad young thing in its online ad. Well, yeah, I specified a lot of Bubba’s motors in my projects, but only because he sold good used motors.
In desperation, I decided to do things systematically in learning how to use Windows. I would control, evaluate, assimilate, integrate, and delegate (I just threw that in to sound like I know what I’m doing). Eventually, I learned the ins and outs of navigating through Windows. That is, until they released a new version which obsoleted all the programs I normally used for the old one.
I’ve since had to re-learn at least five newer versions in order to be compatible with my clients (all who insist on using the latest version). But the biggest conflict in the war of man vs. machine came when, after entering a command, the thing popped the following message on the screen: “Do you really want to do this?” How dare this mindless hunk of electronic gadgetry question my decision making prowess. Not until I realized that yelling at it wouldn’t make a difference did I type in my response. I can’t include that response here, but the machine got revenge by deleting part of my program. Lucky for it, it didn’t display “I told You So.” If it had, the subject material beyond this point would have been nothing more than an obituary for a Compac Presario computer.