The King of Pointland

Blind in a Bind

I spent three hours on the phone this afternoon helping my dad remove spyware from my mom's computer, but we failed to get Rhapsody working again.

Before I go on, it's important not to loose sight of the following: Fuck you who make spyware and adware. I hate you. You are evil. You are the devil.

Much better.

I love my parents, I'm glad to be able to help them with their computers, and I hope to be able to do so in the future. For them, the investment in sixteen years worth of Grape-Nuts, milk, Fruit-of-the-Loom jeans, and so forth is finally paying off. If you're reading this Mom and Dad, don't hesitate to call for help.

But man, few things in life are as frustrating as computer support over the phone. It makes me feel like a blind man with no hands. Consider something as simple as going to a web page. Had I been at the computer myself, it would have taken a few seconds to go to www.sysinternals.com. Over the phone, however, it's "OK, dad, open Firefox and, OK, go to this web page, www.sysinternals.com. No, it's double-you double-you double-you dot ess as in sam why ess as in sam eye en as in nancy tee -- dad, it's short for system internals, but it's just "sysinternals," no, "internals" like your insides, yes! that's right, no, it's plural, sysinternal*S*. OK, is it loading? Good." And he's there, but it took roughly fifteen times longer. My dad isn't stupid, either; in fact he's pretty tech-savvy. It's just the impediment of having to describe what to do over the phone.

Windows XP has a built-in mechanism where one can invite a friend, by email, to remotely control one's computer. I don't know whether it works through firewalls, but I'm inclined to try it.