… what am I going to do with all this left-over schadenfreude
I ask you?

Something hot is going to happen. Though by god, the curves have been slow to meet. Okay, slower than I would have liked. I thought the time for a pocket-tablet-touch-internet-thingie was at least five years ago. Man, that Steve is a slow worker. However. He’s got this thing about doing it right. Meticulous—the byword of a certain presidential candidate, too.

Actually it’s heartening, in this piece-of-crap world. I’m surprised all those alleged McCain fans aren’t even curious to see the New. The well-crafted President. Who takes his time and gets things right. What an organization.

It was inevitable that Apple be the one. If it ain’t the world-beater this time, it will be, very soon. You’re going to enter the cloud, and by god, Steve’s got the device by which you will do so.

Sorry, PC fans (are there any left?) You think we’ve been gloating. Hell, not so long ago, Mac users took endless shit. We were trying to convert you to some annoying cult. Nooo, we were trying to say, Hey, this thing works!

Now you’re all carrying MacBooks or want one. And what am I going to do with all this left-over schadenfreude? I ask you?

Inevitably, when we talk about excellence—of planning, of execution, of the happy meetup of function and form—we find ourselves at the doorstep of Art. And why not. It is an art to make fine things. It is art to have a vision and to slowly, over time, carry it out.

People who jabber about Steve’s reality field, just like those who say Obama’s appeal is his Cool, miss the fucking point.

I suppose, again, I describe the problem: How do people think? How do they perform the act of thinking, and, Do they do so well or poorly?

What thinking is. I read all of Hannah Arendt and it remains a stunning mystery, the ways in which the thing is or is not done.

There seems, not to belabor the obvious—I mean, we are here on the web, this is a blog—to be a layer of consciousness that apparently will paddle about in the shallows forever.

When there is so much more to life. Vast oceans, okay, accessible only inasmuch as the exploratory nature of thought shows them to the thinker. Experience itself being pre-thought-out. Envisioned. The mind must first imagine.

For some whose imagining capacities have ruled our lives, and not always as we would have wished, the question arises—just to pick a wild example—to those who watched the debates and liked John McCain’s non-existent position… Because he said My Friends so many times. And after all: War Hero.

Who thought the two men were even on the same planet. One dearly wants to ask, What was going through your mind? I figure the most probable answer has got to be, Not much.

They were—and are—doing something else. Some activity of mind that resembles thinking but is not—that occupies the time. Swimming round and round in the shallows, not especially wanting more. Do the Dog Paddle! Hey, it’s a life.