There might be a club for Vista lovers, i think there are like 10 in the world, now eleven.
Before settling on a shiny new computer back in '07 (or... '08?), I ventured online after hearing a few sourpussian plaints about the then-new OS here and there to see if the general consensus among tech-geeks mirrored the mumbling I'd heard. The internet offered review after review from stilted fusspots picking it to pieces. Nevertheless, I decided to take a leap of faith and -- paying no attention to the turgid turd-heads of the blogosphere -- strode, chin-high, into one of the many pimples-on-the-map that make up the corporate giant known as Walmart to purchase my chosen contemporary adding machine.
Plugging the beast (called an Acer) into the wall, I was welcomed by this new technological marvel ! nay,
friend, by a cascading melody composed by none other than Brian Eno. Thereafter (aside from the occasional ignorance-inflicted STOP error [colloquially known as the Blue Screen of Death]), I experienced no problems with the Acer until its hardware began to fail.
However, that isn't the end of the Acer's story . . .
Days ago, armed with nothing but a soldering iron and my wits, I set forth to repair my trusty cyber-steed. The procedure lasted hours, what seemed like days, but I -- and it -- arose victorious!
I now have two laptops at my dosposal; my loyal, hard working Toshiba and my old but mighty workhorse, the Acer, which I plan on implementing as my studio computer in the coming days. So, if I am to be the eleventh in a former string of ten for standing by my first laptop (also my first personal computer) and its operating system, Mr. 60, then so be it. Chock it up to nostalgia or lunacy if you like but I am content with it and no one else need be.
Why? For I am the one choosing to run it, not they.
Good day to you, sir. I am truly sorry that you have been blinded by naysayers and therefore are not privy to the marvels of the thing we call Vista.