Life is loaded with annoyances, just keep on truckin’. Useability was nil at first. There’s working email notifications & links, now. Full forum sorting. I haven’t been logged out (except the store) for months. Ok, the user search still breaks on “multiple replies found - search this thread”, maybe some stuff I haven’t used, I dunno. But it ain’t too shabby, now.
[This paragraph is broad strokes, two years of threads on everything-Daz, no particulars, no personalities] I’m a curmudgeon, in real life. But I come off sounding like a cheerleader, because I don’t see the grief, every time Daz twitches in its sleep. I don’t want to sound like a cheerleader, that’s a misrepresentation. To me, some of this drama (no offense, curmudgeon speaking), even about things I didn’t even notice (and I’m a curmudgeon, did I mention?), seems a little over the top. I react similarly to angst movies, I’m hollering at the TV… uh… things which would be undiplomatic in print, heh. I’m a pragmatic curmudgeon. I’ve read a lot of stuff (in 2 years) that makes me go “So??”. To me, the Daz experience (probably TM somewhere, forgotton, in an old-timey file cabinet) amounts to “That’s cool.” “That sucks.”. Does it have to be campaign season every year? I hang here to get away from that. (I should just ignore these threads, it’s not good for my ticker… officially).
Just need a little frontier spirit.
And for a meaningless, go-take-my-nap free-association… “What?! That wasn’t it?”
The new forum is like a camping trip, where the cushy grounds were closed, and you had to set up after dark by nearly-hopeless lantern light. But the rocks are out from under the tents, they’re anchored right, so they wouldn’t blow over *sigh* again. The unpatchably-leaking air mattresses are replaced, the mosquito net tent is patched, and the bear-proof locker is chained to the ground, now, so you don’t have to hoist everything into the trees (but you know that stupid dog is going to get himself killed if a bear does come around). So just partake of refreshment, kick back, tune out the roar of the interstate down the hill, chat idlely, and wait for the train’s horn to echo in the coolest way, at 2:03.
