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From: cgy@cs.brown.edu (Curtis Yarvin)
Newsgroups: comp.misc
Subject: Re: Review on workstations?
Message-ID: <73764@brunix.UUCP>
Date: 28 Apr 91 05:44:47 GMT
References: <1991Apr25.094508.1@csc.anu.edu.au> <28300001@acf5.NYU.EDU> <1991Apr26.224317.669@shaman.com>
Sender: news@brunix.UUCP
Reply-To: cgy@cs.brown.edu (Curtis Yarvin)
Organization: Brown University Department of Computer Science
Lines: 45

In article <1991Apr26.224317.669@shaman.com> jiro@shaman.com (Jiro Nakamura) writes:
>In article <28300001@acf5.NYU.EDU> fink@acf5.NYU.EDU (Howard Fink) writes:
>>The magazine Personal Workstation is devoted to the subject.
>
>[Major flame on]
>
>	Hah! THey *say* they are devoted to workstations. In reality
>they are a glorified PC/MS-DOS magazine. Look at their content, all they
>talk about is VGA, EISA, blah blah. Also what is their idea of a networking
>OS?  MS-DOS or OS/2 with Novell. Give me a break. Their coverage of real
>workstations or even personal workstations is minimal and of token value.
>	I used to subscribe to MIPS before it became PW. Then MIPS became
>bought out and became the sh*t it is now in the form of PW. I eventually
>had to revoke my subscription, I was so disgusted.

Total agreement.

MIPS was a great magazine. Perhaps a godly magazine.  It was a magazine with
BALLS.  It was a magazine with consummate respect for the sharp, cool taste
of Refined Power.  It was a magazine so close to the cutting edge of
technology that you could feel your thumbnails cleanly slicing the meaty
flesh of the Future as you flipped through the pages.  It was a magazine
worth subscribing to for the ADS alone.

For about six months MIPS was my "Road & Track" or "The Absolute Sound".  It
was not a magazine to read as a prospective consumer.  In fact, it was not
even a magazine to read.  It was a magazine to Drool Over.

But it changed.  The Powers of Darkness thrust out their cold hands and
clenched icy fists around the heart of Truth.  The first sign of rot...  I
woke up one fine morning to find a magazine named "Personal Workstation" in
my mailbox.  What was this repulsive beast?  From what dank bog had it
crept?  Peering behind the mailbox for a trail of slime, I scanned the cover
anxiously.  It turned out to be good old MIPS; simultaneous relief and
sadness.  Legal problems, I decided.  The slings and arrows of our litigious
society had crashed against the shining gates of Righteousness.  But what,
after all, is in a name?  Even a gelatinous little name like "Personal
Workstation."

Yet, alas, it was true.  Gresham's Law rode its iron hog of corruption into
the guts of "Personal Workstation."  Sharply written technical articles were
replaced by drawn-out marketing dross.  The cutting edge of technology
disappeared; in its place followed only the wasting death of obsolescence.

Excuse me; I must mourn.