Sadness and sorrow, . . . anger and frustration, . . . are shared, . . . with no satisfaction.
My dead Gateway Desktop sits silently, . . . waiting for a township recycling day.
Fearing more MS attacks (improvements), and still wishing for answers.
Tears. Almost. Who can I strike with a very heavy object?
Being pissed off just doesn't cut it.
AND, we all hope never to communicate with MS Asian support, ever again.
Why does a melodious Indian voice make me ill?
We're dealing with the new age UNTOUCHABLES.
Darn. Damn. Poop. And, many more words of anger and dismay.