What I grieve over

I was grieving to a friend over the company printer that's probably going to die. I can sense it... The predecessors, two smaller versions of this printer, died due to violent treatment. This is basically...domestic abuse.

I...I don't understand. I don't understand why anyone would...would press the "Start" button five fucking times, with such...brute and vengeance...just to get it to copy files.

Can you imagine?

You were once big, strong, efficient, and a service provider spewing pages after pages.

Then these abominable monsters who call themselves the two-legged sentient beings come along.

With their hands and fingers that may and probably have been to questionable places, they start pressing you like they have something against you and your entire family tree.

They reload paper by pulling your guts out, and then slam your guts back into you.

Soon...you start showing signs of a terminal illness when you choke on your own papers and cough blood all over with ink spillage.

That's when they call the shaman (repairman) to do the sending for you. And when the repairman walks away with his head shaking--...

...the end.




And then my friend told me: "I feel like... This is your equivalent of sympathizing with a poor homeless kitten. Cept that.. It's a PRINTER"



...That's got to be discrimination there I swear.