Yes, there certainly was something about keeping those beasts behind
glass doors where they could be properly worshiped and given due
sacrifice by adoring acolytes.? Of course it was "Don't touch"; they
cost millions of dollars buy and millions more to operate.
But, believe me, after you've cleaned enough tape drive excrement so as
to become a dark magnetic gooey mess, only to have them vomit tape all
over the place again, decollated enough paper to look like a speckled
hen while liberally being seasoned with ink from unruly six part forms,
suffered through crashed disks and endured processors that seized up
whenever anybody sneezed or the temperature went up by a tenth of a
degree, it wouldn't hold much of a thrill at all.
I hated it when call rotation came to me and I wore the pager that
evening.? I swear between 20 to 50% of the time, my phone would ring at
2:00 in the morning and I would spend hours with somebody from Colorado
on the KLINIK line.? Zzz....
For me, not only is the miracle that Dave can resurrect these monsters
decades after they were in service, but that somehow he appears to enjoy
doing it.? Maybe it's due in part that he doesn't have a couple hundred
livid angry users making the phone glow red.
I'm very thankful to program them again.? But I've had my fill of the
machine room.
Not that I won't float over there the next time I happen to be in that
neighborhood.? Some of the memories /were/ wonderful.? Some.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
On 4/23/20 7:52 AM, Fred wrote:
I say this every time this comes up, but when I visited, every other
word out of my mouth was simply "Wow.".? I've had accounts (been a
user) on many of the machines in the collection throughout my life,
but never actually was *up close* to one where I could touch it
without getting my hand smacked.? ;)
Fred
> ------------------------------------------------------------------------
> On Wed, 22 Apr 2020, Gregg Levine wrote:
>
> And we are neighbors. I am in Astoria Queens. Dave has an amazing
> collection of machines, everything imaginable.