Birmingham, England. I also lived in London & Gloucester during the 80's.

You people are fucking idiots.

Who gives one shit what kind of a computer someone else uses? Do you also care that I'm wearing OsPop shoes? REI socks? a SanDisk SD card? Drinking a mexican coca-cola out of a hand blown glass? I love how I innocently buy a product, and now I'm some sort of delusional fan, who was tricked into buying expensive nonsense by clever advertising.

Did you ever think that maybe I would personally find it useful to me? Oh no, that would only be fucking logical, so there MUST be something more sinister here!!

And this straw man "fanboy" talk is as retarded as it is childish. It's like saying I'm a Gloucester fanboy because I like the way their cheese tastes more than other cheeses.


I have an iPad and I love it.

Wanna know why? Because of stuff like TouchOSC:
http://hexler.net/software/touchosc

And AC-7 Pro:
http://www.saitarasoftware.com/Site/Home.html

And iTap VNC client:
http://www.jokeandbiagio.com/ipad-for-film-and-tv-production-final-cut-pro-screen-sharing

And iElectribe:
http://www.korg.com/iElectribe

And Air Display for FCP:
http://www.canonfilmmakers.com/2010/05/ipad-controls-final-cut-pro-audio.html


Yeah. Open-source, using Open Sound Control messaging, wifi to my desktop, use it in Logic Studio, Final Cut, Max, Reaktor and pretty much whatever else I want. But I guess I'm a "fanboy" because of my increased functionality in my production studio?

Really? Seriously? I should just not have better functionality to soothe the poor babies fee-fee's out there who want to claim that we're all just delusional?

And yes, there's lots of rabid Apple fans, and I don't get the whole sticker-on-the-car thing. But then again, I don't wear logos of any kind. But it seems to me that for every rabid Apple fan, there's 100 internet idiots who froth at the mouth with seething hatred every time Apple makes a new product.


blaaargh!

Henry's brilliant speech
http://www.videosift.com/video/HENRY-V-St-Crispins-Day-speech-Great-Moments-in-Cinema

or if you would rather read it

No, my fair cousin;
If we are marked to die, we are enough
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honor.
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse;
We would not die in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is called the feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbors,
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian.'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say 'These wounds I had on Crispian's day.'
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words-
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester-
Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

No, my fair cousin;
If we are marked to die, we are enough
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honor.
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse;
We would not die in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is called the feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbors,
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian.'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say 'These wounds I had on Crispian's day.'
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words-
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester-
Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.