OK... times up!
While all the pretty young things were lying in parks sunning their honey-tanned silky smooth skin, and sipping Prosecco nibbling strawberries and whispering sweet nothings to the sounds of distant summery jazz... I was in the stinking sweat hole with a soldering iron, knee deep in long lengths of taut slippery cable, flux, and a fucking dead Digitech Space Station.
Don't get me wrong, its been dead a while, but like your first love.. she's always lying in the corner, staring up at me... covered in shit and starting to smell. (or maybe thats the pizza box next to it?)
I tried everything I could to revive it today, all manner of components were measured, Power supplies were swapped and hard resets performed multiple times...
So... if you please... who the fuck? In the whole fucking fuck of the world, and I mean fucking anywhere.. do I send this to get it fixed?
If theres a guy in Uzbekistan that only accepts 3 Space Stations per decade, and only then if you let him have 25 minutes with your wife... I tell ya... she´ll be on a flight tomorrow... or a donkey if the village don't have an easily accessible air strip...
Please help... my will is ebbing awaaaaaaaaa....
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