Sunday, November 22, 2015

Want to have a dual-boot of two Windows O/Ss go nuts?

Just try having three entries in the Boot Manager instead of the two... that will do it every time! Windows will start, report something wrong with the system, and immediately go into a scanning mode, in which it finds nothing wrong with the files....because the problem isn't in the filing system, it's in the Boot Configuration Data.

Quick Fix:- Open EasyBcd, find that extra entry for some legacy O/S you don't presently have installed, remove that, reboot, and Abracadabra! All Better!

Windows is fun! Imagine the stuff I'd never know if I wasn't playing in the traffic in WWW Land with WWWindows! And just think of all the colorful cusswords my neighbors would never have heard in their native lands across the seas, where it's damned difficult to tell a he from a she dressed in all those sheets and hijabs and whatnot.... Ever wonder if the Ayatollah may have a huge problem with the gays and lezzies but just can't tell who is doing what with whom, and thinks it is all 'way up there, on the highest moral grounds, when if fact it may be anything butt.... (and that wasn't my poor spelling - it was intentional).

See how a simple little story can suddenly take an unexpectedly devious turn? Maybe it's the breakfast eggnog I made, with two extra large brown free range organic eggs, nutmeg, lots of sugar, and fresh Avalon Dairy Homo (it says so right on the cap!) milk, in those original glass bottles. There's something about fresh milk in real glass bottles that makes me go a little goofy in the mornings. Like it's 1949 again, and I'm playing hookey from French and Latin classes to go hiking in the woods or do a little fishing. I might have been a scholar, but I was too easily bored by book work. Especially the kind in foreign or dead languages. I never planned on being either a diplomat or a pharmacist. I was going to be a red hot jet jockey, popping the rivets in my F86, while doing impossible tricks of aerobatics, preferably without digging any holes 30 feet deep in Farmer Brown's back forty during high speed pull-outs, like a couple of my buddies one day did.

After that, piloting my hydro-electric power station instead of something with wings and a kick-ass powerplant under my ass didn't seem quite so mundane.

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