I hate Macs. I have always hated Macs. I hate people who use Macs. I even hate people who don't use Macs but sometimes wish they did. Macs are glorified Fisher-Price activity centres for adults; computers for scaredy cats too nervous to learn how proper computers work; computers for people who earnestly believe in feng shui.
Yeah. Somebody call Randy Newman. He should write a song about this. ("Don't want no Mac people 'round here.")
PCs are the ramshackle computers of the people. You can build your own from scratch, then customise it into oblivion. Sometimes you have to slap it to make it work properly, just like the Tardis (Doctor Who, incidentally, would definitely use a PC). PCs have charm; Macs ooze pretension. When I sit down to use a Mac, the first thing I think is, "I hate Macs", and then I think, "Why has this rubbish aspirational ornament only got one mouse button?"
Excellent point about Dr. Who. Definitely not a wimpy Mac man.
That part about slapping a PC to make it work properly is no joke. I slapped my computer just yesterday, after it froze on me just as I finished composing a better-than-usual blog entry and was about to publish it. I had spent more than an hour on the post when my computer just...stopped. I didn't want to reboot because then I'd lose my work for sure. So I smacked the machine with the heel of my hand. Heard a few feeble clicks from the hard drive. Smacked it again. Heard a few more clicks and then, nada. The screen remained well and truly frozen, so I squeezed my eyes shut, came perilously close to muttering a bad word, and pressed the Power button.
My PC happily booted up, eager to serve me. I gritted my teeth and reminded myself that it's unfair to express anger at a computer that has no memory of having done wrong. That would be like kicking a puppy who piddled on the rug yesterday. But if you think I wept and blubbered, "I want a Mac!" you're dead wrong. PC users have grit. We are the real computer users; the ones who can face a Blue Screen of Death without fear and trembling.
I sat up straighter, hummed a few slow, determined bars of "The Battle Hymn of the Republic," and went back to work.