I am getting old. I have been very sick. Many of you know I almost died at Lotusphere 2010, or near thereafter.
My lungs are screwed up. Long before I met any of you, I was a great bassoonist and a good hornist. I once blew an entire marching band off the field by myself with a used Conn 6D trombone I bought for a hundred bucks, saved up from a job that paid me $2.35 an hour. Thanks to meticulous blog-keeping, I can nearly pinpoint the day when my lungs were destroyed, in March, 2008, thanks to inhaling a truly dangerous volume of pure chlorine gas.
I will not fuck around now, because I don't know how much longer I have to live.
Notes is not dead.
If you believe it is, go fuck yourself.
At this stage in my life, I don't care who gets annoyed at that. I didn't know any of you twenty years ago, and I won't be alive twenty years hence. Or you won't.
I will be disabling comments on this post, because I really don't give a flying fuck what you think. You're either younger than I am, have a vested interest, or wanna stir shit up. That will not happen on my watch.
Notes is not dead.
It will outlive me.
I will explain, in small words, why: it works.
It works INCREDIBLY WELL.
All my life, I have had to put up with "popular" horseshit that never worked well, but was eventually beaten into submission... the Chevrolet 153 4-cylinder engine, dBase, lead paint, MySpace, cyclamates, Windows 95, butt-welded bicycle frames, carob, Ronald Reagan, Kodak's 110 camera format, the V22 Osprey.
Most of those things cost me ACTUAL MONEY.
But if you come at me saying Notes didn't work, I will laugh at your pathetic reproductive parts and if you get in my face, I will smash your trachea with the old, grizzled mag-bat some dipshit left outside my 1975 Volvo when I worked in Baltimore thirty years ago after they stole $2 worth of speaker wire.