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Netgear Dg834GT problems

 
 
KerplunKuK
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      09-14-2006
My DG834Gt has been working fine for months, but suddenly the wireless light
has gone out and the service failed. I tried updating the firmware and that
makes no difference. I have also tried a factory reset but it won't work at
all. I have tested the receiving item on another network and it is fine.
Any ideas how to solve the issue, or is a new router in order?
Thanks

--
XBL : D0C RAY


 
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Mike Easter
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      09-14-2006
KerplunKuK wrote:
> My DG834Gt has been working fine for months, but suddenly the
> wireless light has gone out and the service failed.


Service failed isn't very descriptive of the conditions of the lights
and the troubleshooting measures which are outlined here
http://kbserver.netgear.com/products/DG834GT.asp

Troubleshooting
No Internet Access
Troubleshooting the DG834 Router
Troubleshooting Wireless Products
Router WAN Light Flashes and No Connection to Router or Access Point
Forgotten or Lost Router Password

> I tried updating
> the firmware and that makes no difference.


There's more than one way to update that firmware. There's the browser
way and the non-browser way
http://kbserver.netgear.com/release_notes/D102796.asp Using a browser,
login to the router (the default URL is http://192.168.0.1). The user
name is <snip> , and the default password is <snip> Under Maintenance,
click Router Upgrade

Then... Recovery Utility - . If the firmware upgrade fails, click here
http://kbserver.netgear.com/release_notes/d102417.asp

which method uses a different 'straight' ethernet load of the firmware,
not browser.

> I have also tried a
> factory reset but it won't work at all. I have tested the receiving
> item on another network and it is fine. Any ideas how to solve the
> issue, or is a new router in order?


I would be sure that I fully understand how all of the troubleshooting
steps work and the different kinds of resets including the 'hard reset'.
Then I would pump in a firmware using the direct ethernet connection
unless the troubleshooting descriptions result in a different approach.

--
Mike Easter

 
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Ophelia Cummins
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      09-14-2006
On Thu, 14 Sep 2006 22:06:33 +0100, KerplunKuK wrote:

> My DG834Gt has been working fine for months, but suddenly the wireless light
> has gone out and the service failed. I tried updating the firmware and that
> makes no difference. I have also tried a factory reset but it won't work at
> all. I have tested the receiving item on another network and it is fine.
> Any ideas how to solve the issue, or is a new router in order?
> Thanks


Sounds like lightening might have gotten it. Now, before you protest.
Lightening has knocked out the #1 port on my Linksys BEFSR41 three times
in the last year. I have everything running through an APC backup. How
the lightening went through APC & didn't knock out the cable modem &
everything else involved, I wouldn't know. Lightening is funny like that.

 
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Mike Easter
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      09-14-2006
Ophelia Cummins wrote:

> Lightening
> is funny like that.


Somehow that reminded me of a poet and a poem which I like. That is, I
like the poem it reminded me of, and I like the writing of the poet who
wrote the poem and many other poems and books of poems, and was actually
poet laureate of the US for a few years.

The poem is 'Picnic, Lightning.' The title is also the title of a book
of poems including that one.

The poet is Billy Collins.

Those words are also in a classic sentence from Lolita.

http://www.uuworld.org/2000/0700medit.html

"My very photogenic mother died in a freak accident (picnic, lightning)
when I was three." Lolita


--
Mike Easter

 
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Ophelia Cummins
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      09-15-2006
On Thu, 14 Sep 2006 15:35:40 -0700, Mike Easter wrote:

> Ophelia Cummins wrote:
>
>> Lightening
>> is funny like that.

>
> Somehow that reminded me of a poet and a poem which I like. That is, I
> like the poem it reminded me of, and I like the writing of the poet who
> wrote the poem and many other poems and books of poems, and was actually
> poet laureate of the US for a few years.
>
> The poem is 'Picnic, Lightning.' The title is also the title of a book
> of poems including that one.
>
> The poet is Billy Collins.
>
> Those words are also in a classic sentence from Lolita.
>
> http://www.uuworld.org/2000/0700medit.html
>
> "My very photogenic mother died in a freak accident (picnic, lightning)
> when I was three." Lolita


These days I don't get a chance to read very much poetry.
My schedule is killing me.



Thanatopsis is my favorite one. William Cullen Bryant was
about 16 or 17 when he first wrote it. I was about 16 or
17 the first time I read it. It has been comforting in the
worst of times. He expanded on it in 1814.

"Thanatopis"

To him who in the love of Nature holds
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks
A various language; for his gayer hours
She has a voice of gladness, and a smile
And eloquence of beauty, and she glides
Into his darker musings, with a mild
And gentle sympathy, that steals away
Their sharpness, ere he is aware. When thoughts
Of the last bitter hour come like a blight
Over thy spirit, and sad images
Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall,
And breathless darkness, and the narrow house,
Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart;--
Go forth under the open sky, and list
To Nature's teachings, while from all around--
Earth and her waters, and the depths of air,--
Comes a still voice--Yet a few days, and thee
The all-beholding sun shall see no more
In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground,
Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears,
Nor in the embrace of ocean shall exist
Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim
Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again;
And, lost each human trace, surrendering up
Thine individual being, shalt thou go
To mix forever with the elements,
To be a brother to the insensible rock
And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain
Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak
Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould.
Yet not to thy eternal resting place
Shalt thou retire alone--nor couldst thou wish
Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down,
With patriarchs of the infant world--with kings
The powerful of the earth--the wise, the good,
Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past,
All in one mighty sepulchre.--The hills
Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun,--the vales
Stretching in pensive quietness between;
The vernal woods--rivers that move
In majesty, and the complaining brooks
That make the meadows green; and poured round all,
Old ocean's grey and melancholy waste,--
Are but the solemn decorations all
Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun,
The planets, all the infinite host of heaven,
Are shining on the sad abodes of death,
Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread
The globe are but a handful to the tribes
That slumber in its bosom.--Take the wings
Of morning--and the Barcan desert pierce,
Or lost thyself in the continuous woods
Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound,
Save his own dashings--yet--the dead are there,
And millions in those solitudes, since first
The flight of years began, have laid them down
In their last sleep--the dead reign there alone.--
So shalt thou rest--and what if thou shalt fall
Unnoticed by the living--and no friend
Take note of thy departure? All that breathe
Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh,
When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care
Plod on, and each one as before will chase
His favourite phantom; yet all these shall leave
Their mirth and their employments, and shall come,
And make their bed with thee. As the long train
Of ages glide away, the sons of men,
The youth in life's green spring, and he who goes
In the full strength of years, matron, and maid,
The bow'd with age, the infant in the smiles
And beauty of its innocent age cut off,--
Shall one by one be gathered to thy side,
By those, who in their turn shall follow them.
So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan, that moves
To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon, but sustain'd and sooth'd
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave,
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
 
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Mike Easter
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      09-15-2006
Ophelia Cummins wrote:
> Mike Easter wrote:
>> Ophelia Cummins wrote:
>>
>>> Lightening
>>> is funny like that.


>> 'Picnic, Lightning.'


> Thanatopsis is my favorite one. William Cullen Bryant was
> about 16 or 17 when he first wrote it.


Bryant wore many hats, including political activist -- big Free Soil
Party supporter which coalesced with other parties to make him one of
the founders of the Republican Party.


--
Mike Easter

 
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Ophelia Cummins
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      09-15-2006
On Fri, 15 Sep 2006 08:39:39 -0700, Mike Easter wrote:

> Ophelia Cummins wrote:
>> Mike Easter wrote:
>>> 'Picnic, Lightning.'

>
>> Thanatopsis is my favorite one. William Cullen Bryant was
>> about 16 or 17 when he first wrote it.

>
> Bryant wore many hats, including political activist -- big Free Soil
> Party supporter which coalesced with other parties to make him one of
> the founders of the Republican Party.


Well, we can't all be Democrats.



 
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Mike Easter
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      09-15-2006
Ophelia Cummins wrote:
> Mike Easter wrote:


>> Bryant wore many hats, including political activist -- big Free Soil
>> Party supporter which coalesced with other parties to make him one of
>> the founders of the Republican Party.

>
> Well, we can't all be Democrats.
>
>


Back in Bryant's day, the Republicans would be considered the more
socially liberal party, that which coalesced around the antislavery
issue and free homesteads to farmers. Of course, there was 'religious
republicanism' even then.

Bryant's important role as a journalist editor publisher was actually an
important part in the evolution of the US from what some term the
'second party system' to the 'third party system' which evolution saw
the birth and dominance of the Republican Party of the '3rd party
system' era. The party of Lincoln and all that jazz. Currently we are
at the equivalent of the 7th party system era by that scorecard.

Those who criticize Bryant for insufficient or inadequate production as
a poet/writer/essayist [springing from a child prodigy as a poet/writer]
claim that it was because of his commitment to his role in journalism of
his lifetime. Somewhere I read that [paraphrasing] 'journalism was his
profession, poetry his love, and politics his passion'.


--
Mike Easter

 
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Ophelia Cummins
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      09-16-2006
On Fri, 15 Sep 2006 15:41:23 -0700, Mike Easter wrote:

> Ophelia Cummins wrote:
>>
>> Well, we can't all be Democrats.
>>
>>

>
> Back in Bryant's day, the Republicans would be considered the more
> socially liberal party, that which coalesced around the antislavery
> issue and free homesteads to farmers. Of course, there was 'religious
> republicanism' even then.
>
> Bryant's important role as a journalist editor publisher was actually an
> important part in the evolution of the US from what some term the
> 'second party system' to the 'third party system' which evolution saw
> the birth and dominance of the Republican Party of the '3rd party
> system' era. The party of Lincoln and all that jazz. Currently we are
> at the equivalent of the 7th party system era by that scorecard.
>
> Those who criticize Bryant for insufficient or inadequate production as
> a poet/writer/essayist [springing from a child prodigy as a poet/writer]
> claim that it was because of his commitment to his role in journalism of
> his lifetime. Somewhere I read that [paraphrasing] 'journalism was his
> profession, poetry his love, and politics his passion'.


I had forgotten about all of that. It's been too long since my school
days, but I believe I was in a literature class in high school when I was
made to read that poem. It made a very memorable impression on my young
mind at the time. I had probably discarded all of the other information,
in lieu of the most profound words of that poem, that is, until your words
pulled the memories from my wrinkled brain.


 
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Mike Easter
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      09-16-2006
Ophelia Cummins wrote:
> until your words pulled the memories from my wrinkled brain.
>
>


brain wrinkles are the good kind of wrinkles.

--
Mike Easter
 
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