Rich Siegel, self-taught IT Guy

I love the Internet.

I love the instant access to news. I love the heated political debates and the opportunity to describe our precedent with words like fuckwomble, cockwaffle and jizztrumpet.

And I love being able to exert my growing prowess at chess on unsuspecting opponents from Iran, Libya and the Gaza Strip -- I'm sorry but beating random Jewhaters at a thinking man's game is so satisfying.

I also hate the Internet.

More specifically, I hate it when I can't get the Internet. And as I am sure many of you know that's not always easy.

In fact, on any given day I may have Internet on my desktop computer but can't access the wifi on my laptop or my iPhone.

Tomorrow, I might get the Internet on my thermostat and my smoke alarms but not on my desktop. It has literally become a Russian Roulette of high tech access.

This frustrates me to no end.

And has forced me into a non-stop routine of unplugging and plugging in the modem. Rebooting the router. Resetting the wireless connection. Reconfibulating the HTML, Java-script flick-flacks. And screaming at the fucking top of my lungs!

I've also had to acquaint myself with DHCP's, IP's, WPA Password protected LAN's.

Of course with no professional training, my track record of success with all this is questionable at best. Which inevitably leads to The Phone Call.

That Call always goes one of two ways.

After climbing the thorny phone tree and enduring 37 minutes of Musak, I will finally reach a live service representative. Someone who apologizes profusely for the wait and promises to fix everything that has been troubling me. And then, as if some scornful God is toying with me, the problems fix themselves. Instantly. Without any aid from Mr. or Ms. Helpful. And rendering the entire phone call a total waste of time.

Or, and this is what happens more often. I will be tapping my toes to the 38th minute of Musak version of Foreigner's Hotblooded  and will be connected with a different live service representative who makes his or her home in Islamabad.

"Mister Rich, I am so very, very sorry to hear of the problems you are experiencing on your Spectrum inter webs. It would be of great pleasure to serve you today and return you to your state of complete satisfaction."

Hey Darbush, you seem like a very nice man and I'm sure you are very capable, but I can't understand a word you are saying. Can you switch me over to a supervisor? Someone who speaks the Queen's Tongue? And of course he does.

Only now, the accent is even thicker.

"Oh Mister Rich, I am so very, very sorry to hear of the problems you are experiencing on your Spectrum inter webs. It would be of great pleasure to serve you today and return you to your state of complete satisfaction."

Ah, shitsticks, I'm going to Starbucks.