They got me in the end, with their Hillsong eyes and enhanced browsing experiences.
I'd given it a red hot go, staving off their advances. But damn it, they impose themselves upon you, insinuating the topic into every discussion, like a mid-level Scientologist just one more convert coupon away from a weekend retreat with Tom Cruise and a ride on the mothership. So I bought an iMac. And I haven't looked forward since.
It's the smugness that does you in the end.
I mean, there's the operating system, 'Snow Leopard' . I just want it on the record – I had no idea at the time. And what's with the unnerving, Narnia-like motif? I mean snow? Felines? Grace, adventure and beauty? A nod to The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe?
You know they say the author CS Lewis, was a closet supremacist. Now, it's not mine to suggest the good guys at Apple are inbreeding computer parts in some demented plot to create a master race of 'advanced hardware technology'. But I will say be careful what you wish for and look not to their sleek, uniform 27" ubercomputers, but recall instead certain Royals who were locked in attics, hidden from view over the centuries.
OK, it's purdy, I'll grudgingly cede that. While booting into Windows is a series of Get Smart-style doors slamming behind you (but one where your foes have already skimmed all the swipe mechanisms), logging into a Mac is relatively secure super terrific happy fun hour.
The packaging is a fetishist's wet dream, each peripheral presented as though it were a Hermes Egg. I will say this much, it did get up and running lickety-split. But ever since then it's been one big 'meh'…
Yes, it's all 'whoosh', 'swoosh' and 'check this out', but only in a very bad way. There's the Star Trek-style 'dock', where you access your applications from what appears to be a bouncing castle fashioned entirely out of stupidity. 'Finder', the interface for dealing with files scores a bore draw with Windows Explorer. Web browsers have mastered tabbing, why is this so difficult for file interfaces? It's like turning up to the circus and watching the seals do OK on the trapeze, because the acrobats 'can't be arsed'.
There's a 'Classic View' mode in Windows that allows you to scale back the bells and infuriating whistles to run a more grown-up version of the O/S that doesn't chew up your RAM. My iMac could really do with a 'Just Shut the Freaking Hell Up and Do Whatever It Is You're Supposed to Do' mode. Hell, I'd happily have a whip-around to cover the R & D, so long as none of the money was used on those god-awful ads.
'The world's most advanced operating system. Finely tuned' chunters the web site. The only thing I'm finding finely tuned are my nuts, as I log the minutes watching that goddamn beach ball of suspended disbelief (Apple calls it a 'spinning wait cursor' - whatever).
The Leopard, the Glitch and the Slow Mode would at least honour the trades description act.
And then you take a look at Windows 7 and you see there isn't that much to choose between the two systems. Hardcore Mac users, once they've ratified the fatwa, will respond that's the competition's fault, pointing to their slavish replication. To which I say fine and dandy but I'm still left with a digital Hobson's choice. Yes, it's all slightly better, but that's just it – only slightly better.
The problem is twofold. Namely, the average punter uses their machine to simply surf, email and post flattering, out-of-date headshots on FaceBum. It's the nerds, the army of beta-testing anoraks who are doing the heavy lifting. But nobody else runs these systems through their paces. Certainly, nobody complains as much to the manufacturers. And, as a result, you get this one-size-fits-all attitude. It's a wonder any of the bugs get fixed at all. Propellor-heads, I salute you...
The other problem is the absence of competitors to force those two death stars, Microsoft and Apple, to truly innovate. But, no, wait, who's the coming over the horizon to strike a blow for the little guy? Why out of nowhere, comes the impish Google. Marvellous.
When I was a kid, I recall reading books with futuristic fonts that mapped out the next fifty years. And I distinctly remember being promised motorised footpaths and hover-scooters. Now, I don't mind telling you, I'm more than a little pissed that none of this has come to pass. So is it too much to ask for truly personalised home PCs? Show me a graphic designer and an accountant who can get by on the same machine and I'll show you two numbskulls who shouldn't be allowed near heavy machinery.
Instead the alternative is turtle-neck sweaters crossed with sealed-section interior design inserts and I want no part of it. I blame the Swedes. For though I initially laboured under the misapprehension my extra $500 was for enhanced performance, I now understand it was all about opening up a whole new world of IKEA showroom integration possibilities. And now I'm screwed, because my East European, who is otherwise sensible about most things, is down with the brutal minimalism.
So now we're doomed to accessorise. You want to get into the mind of a Mac user? Easy. Think of the router as the belt, the cable as a tie and the keyboard and mouse as shoes and cufflinks. It's dress-up Barbie and Ken for social spastics. Lookit, this all-in-one scanner-fax thingy can be the campervan…
"Does this printer come in tan?" is not a question I ever want to hear, much less feature in a conversation I am taking part in.
It's a more stylish misery, that's all. Damn it, just typing the lower case i on 'iMac' makes me break out in a rash.
I can see the Mac clergy shaking their heads in mild, pious bemusement. "He'll come round; he just needs to avail himself all the Snow Leopard's binary finery…"
'Snow Leopard'. Jesus wept. Clearly, it's base narcissism; aspirational mean-nothing codswallop pitched to appeal to vain, chronic self-abusers with spectacle frames thin enough cut platinum and Dan Brown novels stacked next to Buffy the Vampire Slayer box sets on their shelves at home . And now I am one of them. Life continues to disappoint.
Windows, Mac OSX, CS Lewis – all cold-blooded, rapacious time thieves.
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