A Cloudless Day for Gmail
What does it mean when Google tosses a rod?
I’ve often felt like the lone wise totem pole in a crowd of demented lemmings madly rushing to outsource every last component of their personal data to what is euphemistically called “the cloud.” My critics thought I was old-fashioned. They’d say, “Why run your own mail server, Jerry? Google does it so much better.” Or “Who cares if Google reads my mail, Jerry? Google is my friend.”
Well, Google can’t be your friend if he’s lying face-down in a ditch somewhere clutching an empty botle of vodka, can he? Email me your answer to that one. Oh wait! You can’t!
Today Jerry laughs long and hard as the world gnashes its teeth and wishes its mail was on someone else’s server. I’d like to help you losers out, but there’s only room for me and my friends in this little brick house of mine.
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