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a string of unconnected tech pearls (not "pearl tea")

RSS is going to be the next big thing. If you think I'm "so 2003" for making note of this, ask your Mom if she's using it. Nobody outside of the early adopters (in this case, primarily primarily bloggers), knows what it is yet. But they will. All this preamble by way of promoting my current s/w happiness, which is the freeware app (alpha) FeedReader. I'm still hammering away at a couple mid-level UI issues, but so far I like it. Previously NewsMonster was my aggregator of choice, as it is integrated directly into Mozilla.

Wired is running a string of Macintosh articles right now, celebrating the 20th anniversary of the Macintosh. They point out that Microsoft has always been a s/w producing ally to Macintosh computers. Of course they're interested in keeping Macs around; who else is going to show them how a GUI should work?

Lastly: Hotmail just sent me this note, letting me know that my account is in danger:
Don't let your Hotmail account freeze up!
As a valued customer, we want to remind you that if your e-mail account goes over the 2MB storage limit, it will be automatically frozen. That means:
• You won't be able to send any e-mail messages
• All messages sent to you will bounce back without notification
Your e-mail account will stay frozen until you delete enough messages to put your account under the 2MB limit. So make sure to monitor your account and delete messages regularly in order to stay well under the limit.
To avoid this hassle, sign up for MSN® Hotmail® Extra Storage. Starting at just $19.95* a year, Extra Storage gives you a much larger inbox. It's the easiest way to avoid a frozen account.
My account is at 28% usage, and hasn't gone above 40% in months. What the crap?

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“I came back for my own purposes,” said the Time Traveler, looking around my booklined study. “I chose you to talk to because it was . . . convenient. And I don’t want you to do a goddamned thing. There’s nothing you can do. But relax . . . we’re not going to be talking about personal things. Such as, say, the year, day, and hour of your death. I don’t even know that sort of trivial information, although I could look it up quickly enough. You can release that white-knuckled grip you have on the edge of your desk.” I tried to relax. “What do you want to talk about?” I said. “The Century War,” said the Time Traveler. I blinked and tried to remember some history. “You mean the Hundred Year War? Fifteenth Century? Fourteenth? Sometime around there. Between . . . France and England? Henry V? Kenneth Branagh? Or was it . . .” “I mean the Century War with Islam,” interrupted the Time Traveler. “Your future. Everyone’s.” He was no longer smiling. Without asking, or offering to pour me any, he