OK... times up!
While all the pretty young things were lying in parks sunning
their honey-tanned silky smooth skin, and sipping Prosecco
nibbling strawberries and whispering sweet nothings to the
sounds of distant summery jazz... I was in the stinking sweat
hole with a soldering iron, knee deep in long lengths of taut
slippery cable, flux, and a fucking dead Digitech Space
Station.
Don't get me wrong, its been dead a while, but like your
first love.. she's always lying in the corner, staring up at
me... covered in shit and starting to smell. (or maybe thats
the pizza box next to it?)
I tried everything I could to revive it today, all manner
of components were measured, Power supplies were swapped and
hard resets performed multiple times...
So... if you please... who the fuck? In the whole fucking
fuck of the world, and I mean fucking anywhere.. do I send
this to get it fixed?
If theres a guy in Uzbekistan that only accepts 3 Space
Stations per decade, and only then if you let him have 25
minutes with your wife... I tell ya... she´ll be on a flight
tomorrow... or a donkey if the village don't have an easily
accessible air strip...
Please help... my will is ebbing awaaaaaaaaa....
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