Peace negotiations with the printer broke down at 7:43 AM. The human delegation opened with optimism, followed by the traditional ritual of unplugging the device and plugging it back in while whispering things that would not survive legal review.
The printer responded with its usual doctrine: blinking lights, paper that definitely is present but somehow isn’t, and a firm ideological commitment to saying “offline” while physically sitting two feet away from everyone involved.
I remain convinced printers are not broken. They are simply feudal. They do not serve users. They permit audiences. And if your tone is wrong, they withhold ink like a medieval lord controlling grain shipments.
— Howard