please delete this topic

Give me a minute...........

.................calculating...................

To be deleted or not to be deleted; that is the question:Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to sufferThe slings and arrows of simulation misfortune,Or to make tweaks against a sea of troubles,And by opposing end them? To crash: to be deleted;No more; and by deletion to say we endThe heart-ache and the thousand natural CTDsThat FSX is heir to, 'tis a better simulationDevoutly to be wish'd. To crash, to be deleted;To be deleted: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;For in that state of deletion what dreams may comeWhen we have shuffled off this mortal coil,Must give us pause: there's the respectThat makes calamity of so long a flight;For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,The software wrong, the proud man's new computer,The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,The insolence of BSOD and the g3d.dllsThat patient merit of the unworthy takes,When he himself might his quietus makeWith a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,To grunt and sweat under a weary life,But that the dread of something after death,The undiscover'd country from whose bournNo traveller returns, puzzles the willAnd makes us rather bear those ills we haveThan fly to others that we know not of?Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;And thus the native hue of resolutionIs sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,And enterprises of great pith and momentWith this regard their currents turn awry,And lose the name of action. - Fly you now!The fare smooth flight! Nirvana, on thy wings on highBe all my flights remember'd.

To be deleted or not to be deleted; that is the question:Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to sufferThe slings and arrows of simulation misfortune,Or to make tweaks against a sea of troubles,And by opposing end them? To crash: to be deleted;No more; and by deletion to say we endThe heart-ache and the thousand natural CTDsThat FSX is heir to, 'tis a better simulationDevoutly to be wish'd. To crash, to be deleted;To be deleted: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;For in that state of deletion what dreams may comeWhen we have shuffled off this mortal coil,Must give us pause: there's the respectThat makes calamity of so long a flight;For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,The software wrong, the proud man's new computer,The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,The insolence of BSOD and the g3d.dllsThat patient merit of the unworthy takes,When he himself might his quietus makeWith a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,To grunt and sweat under a weary life,But that the dread of something after death,The undiscover'd country from whose bournNo traveller returns, puzzles the willAnd makes us rather bear those ills we haveThan fly to others that we know not of?Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;And thus the native hue of resolutionIs sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,And enterprises of great pith and momentWith this regard their currents turn awry,And lose the name of action. - Fly you now!The fare smooth flight! Nirvana, on thy wings on highBe all my flights remember'd.

Say what??

Say what??

money can buy books too, you know

To be deleted or not to be deleted; that is the question:Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to sufferThe slings and arrows of simulation misfortune,Or to make tweaks against a sea of troubles,And by opposing end them? To crash: to be deleted;No more; and by deletion to say we endThe heart-ache and the thousand natural CTDsThat FSX is heir to, 'tis a better simulationDevoutly to be wish'd. To crash, to be deleted;To be deleted: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;For in that state of deletion what dreams may comeWhen we have shuffled off this mortal coil,Must give us pause: there's the respectThat makes calamity of so long a flight;For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,The software wrong, the proud man's new computer,The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,The insolence of BSOD and the g3d.dllsThat patient merit of the unworthy takes,When he himself might his quietus makeWith a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,To grunt and sweat under a weary life,But that the dread of something after death,The undiscover'd country from whose bournNo traveller returns, puzzles the willAnd makes us rather bear those ills we haveThan fly to others that we know not of?Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;And thus the native hue of resolutionIs sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,And enterprises of great pith and momentWith this regard their currents turn awry,And lose the name of action. - Fly you now!The fare smooth flight! Nirvana, on thy wings on highBe all my flights remember'd.

---

C:\>delete postdeleting...access denied, admin privileges required.C:\>delete post /A(It's anyone's guess this time.)