Skip to main content

Printing: You'll Live Longer if You Don't

It's true, statistically proven. The presence of a printer in your home reduces your life expectancy by 5.1%, give or take a centile. You can read all about it on Wikipedia. So, chuck them out. Dump them. Defenestrate them (I actually did that once - it was orgasmic). Set them on fire. Better yet, never buy them in the first place.
Anyway, here's why they kill you:

1. Inkjet printers don't. They don't print. They might once or twice, then they dry up and die or, worse, don't die but promise they will change, like a violent alcoholic partner. "Next time, no jam, I swear. Next time, I won't turn magenta on you. No, no, don't throw me out - next time, no messy smears; they weren't my fault - you provoked me. I know I cost a lot to keep around, but I'm worth it - you won't find fidelity like mine elsewhere. Let's move away, change to Mac - it'll be different, we'll work together. " Etc. Don't believe a word of it. They are thieving lying bastards and deserve to die.
2. Laserjet printers do, sometimes, print. But of course, this is just the beginning of the sh*t they're going to give you: borderless doesn't mean borderless. It means with a border. Scale to fit doesn't mean fill the page, it means with a border. Fit entire page means "give this image a border". Settings are different every time you turn on the machine of course, that's a given. Pictures look crap, that too is a given. Black and white text might be ok but for everything else you're looking at jumble sale flyer circa 1972, roneo'd and awful.
3. So, please, let us have an amnesty - let's start again. Chuck 'em all - Kodak, HP, Samsung, Canon - chuck 'em all on the scrap heap and get someone who cares to design them from the paper tray up. Only then is there a hope for humanity.

So, anyway, here's a picture - it's a photography blog, right? Don't print it of course, but feel free to enjoy it here.


Popular posts from this blog

Photography as Art

Having spent Friday night in prison in Oxford I wanted to recuperate a little yesterday and so took the time to visit the Ansel Adams exhibition at Oxford's modern art museum. Now, back when I were a nipper during my phirst phase of photographic interest, between the ages of about 18 and 25 (before the Exeter sojourn and the heavy-duty clubbing period thereafter), I remember I loved his work. However, since then, sadly, a more cynical Patrick held sway for a while (cynicism, for a long while, being my idea of sophistication) and I rather went off his pictures, or at least, the idea of his pictures. It seemed to me that everyone who had even the remotest interest in photography cited Adams as a key influence and criticism of him appeared off-limits. During this time I wasn't even sure that photography was an art, and that Adams couldn't be as good as I'd thought because he earned near universal praise for his work (I know, strange distorted thinking, but that's how …

Sia Sumana opening night, We Are Cuts, Soho

Waltercio Caldas

Portrait taken at Cecilia Brunson Project, Bermondsey.

From Wikipedia:

Waltércio Caldas Júnior (born 6 November 1946), also known as Waltércio Caldas, is a Brazilian sculptor, designer, and graphic artist. Caldas is best known as part of Brazil's Neo-Concretism movement as well as for his eclectic choices in materials.