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Study Recommends Gnumeric Over MS Excel
Jody Goldberg writes "A recent study of analytic quality, and responsiveness to problems strongly preferred Gnumeric in place of MS Excel. With new problems popping up in Office XP the case for spreadsheet users to migrate is only getting stronger.
In some related Gnumeric quickies, a new stable version 1.2.6 was released, and Open has done an interview with the Maintainer."
Anyone understand this table? The text doesn't match the table, where gamma-S log relative error, unless I'm an idiot (which is entirely possible), is actually worse in v1.1.2 than v0.67?
Belief is the currency of delusion.
Eric smiled, a bent grin freezing over his lips. His cheeks were flush and his heart fluttered. Not only had he just finished his nightly bottle of Jgermeister, but his Match.com flame from Kansas City had just emailed him back with her address.
Stuffing the printout of the email into the left breast pocket of his teal polo shirt, ESR shoved his chest out and stuck his shoulders back up as he spoke to himself, an aura of chirpy optimism about him.
"Alright. Let's get a move on!"
Several gym bags littered the floor around his kitchen table, all of various brands and colors. Each was filled to bursting point and was labeled in bold black marker. One said CLOTHES, a second had TOILETRIES scribbled on it, the third read LARP, and a fourth read GUNS. Eric had all the bases covered, he noted, save for his laptop.
Eric's laptop, several penguin and LNX stickers adorning it, was slowly but surely booting. Eric beamed at his pride and joy. Eric had visited Wal-Mart the night before and purchased a tape adapter. He had ripped Stallman Does Slovenia, a compilation of RMS's flute concerts performed in the Eastern Bloc, into Ogg Vorbis format and wanted to listen to it on the way to Kansas.
Finally bagging and slinging the laptop over his shoulder, Eric hunched over and grabbed two gym bags, shoved them in his car, and came back for the last two. He awkwardly dragged his foot several times before he dropped the bags on his doorstep, turned, and locked his door. Tugging one last time to make sure he had all five of his deadbolts secured, he piled into his 1985 maroon Dodge Omni and slammed the door shut.
A childish look of glee tightened Eric's face into a leering smile as he patted the steering wheel lovingly.
"Alright, ol' Bessie! We're going to Kansas City, Kansas City here we come! This is Manifest Destiny! This is fate! This is sex with a stranger from the Internet!"
At this Eric jammed his key into the ignition and turned it. The car jolted violently to life, gasping and coughing as the engine struggled to turn over. Dense blue smoke wafted from the tailpipe and hood while the sickly sweet smell of antifreeze filled the compartment. Coughing, Eric pumped the gas while he rolled down his salt-streaked window. With a few more knocks and pings the Omni jerked clumsily into gear and sputtered some gravel as it started down ESR's dirt driveway. Eric silently wondered if it would have been worth replacing the head gasket after it blew last time.
Whipping down his street toward the highway, Eric fiddled with the controls on his laptop as the sounds of RMS's gentle flute filled the car, drowning out the sound of his sputtering engine. In his toil ESR clumsily sideswiped a large yellow school bus full of children that had stopped in front of him, tearing the STOP sign from its side. As the bus driver shook a fist at him, ESR smiled and licked his lips, tasting the last few drops of the Jgermeister he had just finished.
Eric pushed the accelerator to the floor and his Omni climbed to 60 MPH as it sped West on Interstate 80. There was quite a drive to go, Eric thought, as the sun set ahead of him. He whistled quietly along to the music and locked his crooked eyes on the road. His only thought was of 4800 Kaw Drive.
A less than flattering release name.
Thought it might have meant "cancer of my flower necklace" or something.
What of the programmability? The killer feature of MS Office isn't the applications themselves, but VBA.
Get thee glass eyes, and, like a scurvy politician, seem to see things thou dost not.--King Lear
STFU, NEO TROLL FAGGOT