"XP... Works." That's what the dude at the store said. I took his word for it, went home and installed it. None of that lobster-based paradigm jazz for me, no sir. Just a simple, straightforward Brazilian didgeridoo.
The Parks Department agent came through again last night. She was all business, asking about the nail guns and sawdust, prodding the bag with Mike in it, asking about our pets and if they've been neutered... it got old fast. The belly of the beast had yet to be mentioned by any party thereto.
Fortunately, a disheveled, middle-aged ne'er-do-well entered the premises about this time, breaking the tension by ordering three different single malt scotches, stirred and not shaken, in a tumbler with some root beer and mint. The hub of the hubbub was Bub, a stereoscopically overweight hobgoblin, known to hobnob with the knobbiest of the knobby. A gossamer hush descended upon the establishment. Even crazy Daphne, in her usual corner table with a half-filled bottle of corn squeezings, was utterly still and silent. Save the squeegeeing worshipers at Saint Alphonso's pancake breakfast, a great Nothingness titanium-ed over the neighborhood.
"For this we upgraded from 3.11 for Workgroups?" I said to the dude at the store, a week to ten days later. Oh, I got a refund alright, and an written apology from Ulysses.
On April 8th 2014...
...there is no more hope for you. Or for the few. You must change your ways.