The Toshiba presser begins with a curiously Mac-centric variation of the BSOD projected in triplicate in between a quatrain of anonymous, hooded HDTVs: a trial version nag screen courtesy of Little Snitch, a program often used by Apple pirates to prevent warezed apps from phoning home.
The audience gasps. There are a couple of nervous titters. Two loud mouthed gentlemen sitting next to me — men whom, after their whole clueless generation, use the word "blog" to mean "post" — grab each other, as if to mutually brace one another during the throes of spontaneous micturation. "OH.... MY.... GOD...." one whistles through his moustache.
The mind reels. No one can process it. A few war hardened photogs lift their cameras and pop off a few shots. Paddle shocked by the exploding flashes into plodding action, I realize I should do the same, remove the cap from my camera...
And then, just like that, the Little Snitch nag screen is gone. Silently but pervasively, the audience forms a covenant inside itself: the Little Snitch nag screen must not be mentioned. It is simply too unreal. Like victims of mass alien abduction, we dare not utter that which peels away the cowl of our society's own accepted truth.
But as the tedium of the Toshiba presser sets in properly, I find my mind going back to the Little Snitch nag screen time and time again, an ineluctable memory to be fondly cherished. As magical and unexpected as a pegasus unicorn charging through a bah mitzvah, it is — by far — the most exciting moment yet of my CES presser experience.
I, of course, have no proof: only the mundanity of the anecdote testifies to its authenticity. maybe other blogs will corroborate. But who cares? I tell this story for a reason: I feel it puts into perspective the unfathomable boredom of sitting through these pressers. Really, guys... this shit is rough. If you perceive a certain amount of reservedness in our posts this morning, there's your reason: the energy and excitement inherent in the average CES presser makes an episode of The Golden Girls seem as high octane and sexy as a John Woo directed gang bang.
Did you know there are people who come to CES for fun? Who fake their blogging credentials to get into these very same pressers? Chattering enthusiasts who send purple, gastropoidal tongues rolling in ecstasy over their gray, mottled lips with every freshly revealed Powerpoint slide? These inexplicable people wander the halls of the Sands Convention Center... as perverse, sadomasochistic and profane as genital auto-mutilation hobbyists. Horror.
But I digress. Your regularly scheduled coverage of Toshiba CES presser will follow momentarily. Buckle in your sputtering gastric systems: it's going to be a doozy!