"The Windows Waltz", And What Sopranos Are Really Singing About
As a former sysadmin, I spent a substantial period of my early middle age trying to count the ways in which computers can go wrong, even when there isn't a complete twerp attached to the organic end of the interface.
(While I'm on that point, may I introduce you to the concept of the LART? It stands for Luser Attitude Re-adjustment Tool, and usually consists of a large implement - such as a lump hammer, perhaps - deployed to sort out those really intransigent items of meatware who simply refuse to grasp what it is you are telling them, and always think that you are to blame for them having deleted three years' worth of their e-mails).
At the end of a week at work which has resembled wading through raw sewage in leaky wellies, I was tickled no end by this.
I'd never heard of Rainer Hersch before today. I daresay you hadn't either. I suggest we remedy that deficiency in ourselves together:
But there's more. Because, although I love music, there are two areas I can't readily stand: country and western (of the manufactured kind; you know, the equivalent of all that bloody Irish 'traditional' music which I suspect is actually assembled in a medium-sized workshop - a sort of I-diddly-IKEA - on the trendier outskirts of Dublin); and opera (the golf of music, in that if golf is "a good walk spoiled", then opera is "good music spoiled by singers"). This second clip from Mr Hersch confirms something which I had long suspected about what these overwraught canaries are actually singing:
(With gratitude to the ever-estimable Philip Challinor for the tweet which led me to the first clip)