This shocked me yesterday. If you’re an MSX user then you may have heard about Nestor Soriano (AKA konamiman). He’s the guy who developed:

• Nextor, a new operating system for MSX (which I will talk about in the future on this blog), fully compatible with MSX-DOS2 and with FAT16 support
• NestorBASIC, an extended, more powerful version of MSX BASIC
• NestorPreTer, a new MSX BASIC preprocessor to make programming in MSX BASIC easier
• InterNestor Lite, a full TCP/IP stack for MSX2/2+/turbo R computers (yes, allows you to connect your MSX to the Internet)
• A bunch of Internet applications for MSX, including Dropbox, Twitter, FTP, Windows shared folders, clock synchronization via NTP, wget client…
• Firmware for MSX peripherals: ObsoNET and DenYoNet (Ethernet cards for MSX), MegaFlashROM SCC+ SD (interface to use SD cards as hard drives on the MSX), Tecnobytes’ IDE cartridge, etc.

If you’re keeping your MSX equipment up to date, the chances are high that you’re using for free something he has created, because that’s what he does: he gives all of this to the MSX community for free.

So what shocked me yesterday?

Blizzard:

Thanks for the invitation to the public beta of Warlords of Draenor. When I saw the invitation email in my iPhone I initially thought it was just another phishing attempt to get my Battle.net ID and password. However, this time I didn’t see any suspicious links in the content, so I went ahead and logged in to my account and confirmed that yes, there it was:

Without thinking much about it I installed the client and downloaded the content, then gave it a try for a few minutes. Yes, it looks fantastic. However, this time I’m not staying. Azeroth won’t be seeing me again anytime soon.

Let me tell you a little secret about myself: I can sense the ghosts of dead people, and I’m not using a metaphor here. I really mean ghosts, or souls, or spirits of other dead people. Call them whatever you want. I can feel them, and they used to scare the shit out of me.

This started when I was a kid. The apartment where my parents raised me had a badly-lit corridor with the living room on one end, my parents’ bedroom on the other, and my own bedroom and a bathroom in between. Often, on my way back from the bathroom, I would have a slight feeling that someone was behind me, just standing there looking at my back. I would turn, and each and every time I was unable to see anyone or anything. However, I felt, I knew there was somebody there, some presence staring at me. I would hurry up, run back to my room, and close the door behind me.

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