Yesterday, three quarters of Microsoft’s MSN & Live services were up and down for around twelve hours.  There was no news about the incident.

     Tonight, Twitter has had intermittent connectivity, also with no news.

     The Truth Laid Bear, a well-past-its-expiry-date blog ranking site, has had numerous issues for some time with no apparent plans to fix anything:

Access denied for user 'nzbear_ttlb'@'63.247.140.96'
to database 'nzbear_repdb'

     The outage that seems to be causing the most blatant angst for users, however, has occurred on MySpace, where their Applications platform, MySpace Apps, has been down for two days.  While MySpace has left over two hundred million users unable to use the Applications platform with little explanation as to why, users have taken to posting bulletins with everything from conspiracy theories to all out rage against the ad-driven site.  

     The vast majority of MySpace applications are immensely simple, session-based games, most of which are based off of a much more simplified model of the archaic Solar Realms Elite-style BBS games of the early 1980’s.  However, the outrage at being denied the privilege to play these games is very real.  Some users have reported that a Lawsuit against MySpace has closed the applications.  Others have conjectured that it is due to rampant cheating on a points-for-cash system which doesn’t exist.  Some have found more sinister motives, claiming that MySpace’s creator, Tom Anderson, is pulling a coup d’etat against its media mogul owner, Rupert Murdoch.

     Still others blame the spirit of a deceased Tom Anderson as he posts bulletins from the grave, lame-duck President George W. Bush, Lucky the Dog, and an illegal alien named Urinous Hatte, who claims to be from an extra-solar planet in the vicinity of Beta Orionis.

     I would like to address these particular MySpace users directly:

     While MySpace upgrades their OpenSocial platform to v0.8, this leaves many of you with a great deal of free time.  However, this outage has a silver lining.  This is time that could better spent dealing with emotional trauma, finding girl/boyfriends, educating yourselves, raising your children correctly, or any number of other worthwhile objectives which may actually prove that you can do something for your own, or the greater, good.

     In other words:

     Please remove your heads from your asses and get out from in front of the damn computer.

     Thank you, drive through…

     I’m not trying to be arrogant, but jeez Louise… I can’t stand GameStop!  As a matter of fact, I’ve found that I have a deep-seated resentment for the entire establishment.

     This afternoon’s visit even more strongly reinforced that resentment.

     I went into several different locations — in several different states — before Christmas looking for a particular gift which was “soon to be released” instead of “in stock now!” as their advertisements said, and that kinda ticked me off, anyway.
     But that’s not what this rant is about.  In fact, it’s far more pointed — and perhaps more personal — than that.

     Now, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that all GameStop employees are idiots, because that’s not true.  There are Accountants, Franchise Owners and Managers (more on them later) who might be associated with any given location and who may be, by all accounts, “normal.”  I can’t say the same of the Ad people, because Ad people are pretty much abnormal anywhere they’re employed — and they’re not the reason I dislike GameStop.  Even with the “in stock now!” garbage…

     No, the thing I hate about GameStop?

     It’s the regular employees, of which there are at least eight at any given location.

     At first, you think they’re just black-shirted customers, running around the store acting like idiots, hiding behind the displays yelling, “Bee-owp!  Bee-owp!” as they pretend to shoot at each other with invisible implements of destruction.
     “Can I help you find anything?” they’ll eventually ask.
     “No,” you reply.  “This is a pretty small store.”

     Immediately, six of them begin dodging their invisible lasers, screaming, “Bee-owp!  Bee-owp!” again.

     At some point, the seventh employee will run out from the back, ripping the latest firearm-style controller (for the latest mega-cool platform!) from out of its protective box, screaming, “Bee-owp!  Bee-owp!” at his invisibly armed compatriots.

     Upon closer inspection, you’ll notice their tell-tale GameStop employee ID’s, which, instead of being pinned to their shirt, hang from around their necks like they’re roadies guarding the back-stage of a Metallica concert.  Only, they listen to Europop Techno…
     In fact, the only thing they have in common with the “cool” guys they’re trying to emulate is the fact that they’re like … forty.
     The “younger,” eighth employee (a mere thirty-years-old) feverishly slaves away behind the cash register, his penance for being “so much younger” and “less cool” than his elder brethren.

     The Manager is always in the back, pulling his hair out.  Unfortunately, he doesn’t have the balls to control his motley crew — yeah, not the band — of prepubescent middle-agers and attempt to set things right.  Instead, he comes to help customers at the cash register because he just can’t have his employees arguing with customers about those damn ads…
     He leaves the store at 10PM, gets home at 10:15PM, and is drunk by 10:30PM.  His wife screams at him incessantly, and he just can’t handle it any more.
     You just know that at any moment, some proverbial needle will hit the floor, breaking the silence like cannon fire, and our mild-mannered Manager will suddenly become Michael Douglas in “Falling Down.”  (Perks of the job — he scarfed that movie from out of the Used DVD bin last Thursday, and watched it while getting wasted on Peach Schnapps and Mountain Dew.)

     Maybe there are normal GameStop stores in the world.  Maybe all of their counter staff aren’t overgrown, pimply-faced, forty-year-old virgins who are sadly content to live in their grandmother’s basements pretending to be part of Vader’s 501st Stormtrooper Legion, Klingon Commander Haktarr, or Yoric the Hill Giant Slayer.

     I just haven’t met them yet, because I am way too cool for GameStop…

     And don’t even get me started on Starbucks…