Roger Martin, RIM Director:
I laugh at the vast majority of critics when they say ‘Oh, you should have made this CEO transition, like, four years ago.’ Yeah, right – like, to who?
So we’re supposed to hand it over to children, or morons from the outside who will destroy the company?
He’s right. The customers can’t get it in their heads that Blackberry devices are perfect. And the investors … well, they’re all morons.
Jonathan Geller, explaining “Why the iPhone is worse than a BlackBerry”:
I might want my phone to vibrate for almost all alerts, and sometimes I want my phone ring as well. Sometimes I want everything to be on silent and have my phone ring only if it’s a certain person calling or messaging me. I just want more control over how my phone acts in this respect — it’s something that is half-assed in its current state.
That explains why all stores are running out of Blackberry devices.
The Economist:
Mr Năstase was raised in the communist school of politics, and it showed. During his time in office state-run television and radio stations were obliged to follow a pro-governmental line. Newspapers that printed incriminating stories found their entire circulation had been bought up before they hit the news-stands. Mr Năstase took part in huge hunting sprees that rivalled any of Ceauşescu’s, and his two wives were both from the communist nomenklatura.
Mr Năstase’s truculence in the face of opposition was legendary. When asked about the significant wealth that he accumulated during his time in office, he invited his detractors to count his balls instead.
Asta ca sa isi aduca aminte si astia care fac acum #revolutie si striga in gura mare ca traiesc in dictatura.
In August of 1865, a Colonel P.H. Anderson of Big Spring, Tennessee, wrote to his former slave, Jourdon Anderson, and requested that he come back to work on his farm. Jourdon — who, since being emancipated, had moved to Ohio, found paid work, and was now supporting his family — responded spectacularly by way of the letter seen below (a letter which, according to newspapers at the time, he dictated).
Dayton, Ohio,
August 7, 1865To My Old Master, Colonel P.H. Anderson, Big Spring, Tennessee
Sir: I got your letter, and was glad to find that you had not forgotten Jourdon, and that you wanted me to come back and live with you again, promising to do better for me than anybody else can. I have often felt uneasy about you. I thought the Yankees would have hung you long before this, for harboring Rebs they found at your house. I suppose they never heard about your going to Colonel Martin’s to kill the Union soldier that was left by his company in their stable. Although you shot at me twice before I left you, I did not want to hear of your being hurt, and am glad you are still living. It would do me good to go back to the dear old home again, and see Miss Mary and Miss Martha and Allen, Esther, Green, and Lee. Give my love to them all, and tell them I hope we will meet in the better world, if not in this. I would have gone back to see you all when I was working in the Nashville Hospital, but one of the neighbors told me that Henry intended to shoot me if he ever got a chance.
I want to know particularly what the good chance is you propose to give me. I am doing tolerably well here. I get twenty-five dollars a month, with victuals and clothing; have a comfortable home for Mandy,—the folks call her Mrs. Anderson,—and the children—Milly, Jane, and Grundy—go to school and are learning well. The teacher says Grundy has a head for a preacher. They go to Sunday school, and Mandy and me attend church regularly. We are kindly treated. Sometimes we overhear others saying, “Them colored people were slaves” down in Tennessee. The children feel hurt when they hear such remarks; but I tell them it was no disgrace in Tennessee to belong to Colonel Anderson. Many darkeys would have been proud, as I used to be, to call you master. Now if you will write and say what wages you will give me, I will be better able to decide whether it would be to my advantage to move back again.
As to my freedom, which you say I can have, there is nothing to be gained on that score, as I got my free papers in 1864 from the Provost-Marshal-General of the Department of Nashville. Mandy says she would be afraid to go back without some proof that you were disposed to treat us justly and kindly; and we have concluded to test your sincerity by asking you to send us our wages for the time we served you. This will make us forget and forgive old scores, and rely on your justice and friendship in the future. I served you faithfully for thirty-two years, and Mandy twenty years. At twenty-five dollars a month for me, and two dollars a week for Mandy, our earnings would amount to eleven thousand six hundred and eighty dollars. Add to this the interest for the time our wages have been kept back, and deduct what you paid for our clothing, and three doctor’s visits to me, and pulling a tooth for Mandy, and the balance will show what we are in justice entitled to. Please send the money by Adams’s Express, in care of V. Winters, Esq., Dayton, Ohio. If you fail to pay us for faithful labors in the past, we can have little faith in your promises in the future. We trust the good Maker has opened your eyes to the wrongs which you and your fathers have done to me and my fathers, in making us toil for you for generations without recompense. Here I draw my wages every Saturday night; but in Tennessee there was never any pay-day for the negroes any more than for the horses and cows. Surely there will be a day of reckoning for those who defraud the laborer of his hire.
In answering this letter, please state if there would be any safety for my Milly and Jane, who are now grown up, and both good-looking girls. You know how it was with poor Matilda and Catherine. I would rather stay here and starve—and die, if it come to that—than have my girls brought to shame by the violence and wickedness of their young masters. You will also please state if there has been any schools opened for the colored children in your neighborhood. The great desire of my life now is to give my children an education, and have them form virtuous habits.
Say howdy to George Carter, and thank him for taking the pistol from you when you were shooting at me.
From your old servant,
Jourdon Anderson.
MG Siegler:
In order to acquire such a company at the market price Google sets, it would take something like $14 trillion.
Via parislemon
Abraham Lincoln (in a Reddit WTF comment)
I never posed for this portrait – and I’m a lot taller than that dick head Andrew Jackson
Don MacPherson:
The results put Quebec in a tie for second-last place in the cost per provincial resident – and dead last in the benefit per minority member. Even “redneck” Alberta spends more per resident and more per minority member than does our “generous” province. Ontario spends seven times as much as Quebec per resident, and 14 times as much per minority member.
The Telegraph:
EU officials concluded that, following a three-year investigation, there was no evidence to prove the previously undisputed fact. [...]
Producers of bottled water are now forbidden by law from making the claim and will face a two-year jail sentence if they defy the edict, which comes into force in the UK next month.
Another example of all the wrong things about EU. And taxpayers’ money well spent.
Marco Arment:
I expected the Kindle Fire to be a compelling iPad alternative, but I can’t call it delightful, fun, or pleasant to use. Quite the opposite, actually: using the Fire is frustrating and unpleasant, and it feels like work.
How many of the best selling Kindle Fire are going to be sent back after 1 week? So far I couldn’t find a review that would make me think again before clicking the “Buy” button on Apple’s site.
Full review here
Clint Eastwood:
Because what I really believe is, let’s spend a little more time leaving everybody alone. These people who are making a big deal out of gay marriage? I don’t give a fuck about who wants to get married to anybody else! Why not?! We’re making a big deal out of things we shouldn’t be making a deal out of.
