Inevitable progress

I got this in my mail box today, and it was the first chuckle I've had in several trying days.  There is little that sets me free from stress and worrying about things over which I have no control more than a rant about the newest in tech toys.  In fact, I enjoyed it so much I thought I'd pass the conversation along to you folks.

Friend to me:   "I thought you would enjoy -- or at least understand -- my technical crisis. I hate change; have a cheap cell phone that I use rarely; and was only able to adjust to a new computer 2 years ago because my son-in-law (at the time) arranged for an IT company in Phoenix to take care of everything. I also bought an HDTV, have four remotes, and my stomach clinches every time I turn it on -- fearing that if there's a problem, I have no clue how to fix it.

One of the constants in my life is the arrival of the little red and white Netflix envelopes in my mailbox. They provide me with movies and series (without commercials) and all sorts of interesting things to watch on DVDs. Now Netflix is going to evolve into "streaming" DVDs -- whatever the hell that means. I have no clue what I have to do to adapt to this unfortunate change that some view as "inevitable progress."

Me to Friend:  "That's wonderful news! I much prefer to discuss new tech brain twisters than the coming, and in my opinion, unavoidable, economic collapse of this nation. You and I are, at least in this one area, twins. Probably not identical twins, something to do with x and y chromosomes. But, I also hate anything new that comes with either a plug or batteries. And lately, some teen aged wunderkinds have started putting tiny solar arrays on the screwiest stuff in an effort to further confuse me.

I've learned to get even with them by not buying the stuff, and just wish I could convince everyone else on the planet we have no need whatsoever for stuff like electric shoe horns. But, I'm afraid some smart SOB will actually invent one of those and become a gazillionaire by doing so.

All the early adapters will want to be the first on the block to have all the vertebrae in their backs fused just so they can demonstrate how wonderful the device is. Just think - shoes can be put on and taken off with ease, and a bendable back, or alternately, arms as long as those attached to Michael Phelps shoulders, are no longer necessary for the task.

My loathing of new gizmos varies with the cube of the number of menus or knobs and switches the item sports. And, I, like you were two years ago, am sorely in need of a new computer. Along with this need comes a fear.  The fear is everything I've done in my life for the last eight years will vanish when I unplug this rock solid old friend and fire up a newer version.

This fear was related to a buddy last year when it first became apparent my Gateway would shortly have to be tossed into the trash can outside my Doorway.  He gave me some sort of thingy, he called it a "thumb drive", along with instructions on it's use . He claims the half ounce miniature piece of plastic can store everything on my present 40 pound collection of chips and wires. We'll see. It better, otherwise I'll for sure wind up in jail when I can not explain the basis of my last eight years of tax returns. Maybe I'll just have to keep this old one with me just in case.

They were able to find all kinds of stuff on Casey Anthony's computer, so maybe the IRS guys can find all the info they need to allow me to continue walking the streets among normal people on my eight year old piece of junk. In fact, I think I'll just put it into yet another box and store it on a shelf in the garage along with all the other unknown, but very important, stuff I keep out there.

You mentioned "Netflix".  This may sound a little strange, but it will perfectly illustrate my fear of venturing into unknown territory.   I have no means of playing a movie in my entire house.  You see, our DVD player, the one who's many features eluded me for it's entire life, was broken during the move and we tossed it.  I know we REALLY need a BluRay, and have asked a friend for advise on the perfect brand and model.  Even though I'm armed to my forehead with facts he provided, I'm afraid to walk into the store. 

It's a little known fact, but the salespeople in electronic stores are aliens.  Pod people.  They have human bodies, but they belong to another species.  And, most of them speak Trektalk, not English.  It's infectious, and I can not afford to become ill.  As it is, most folks have a hard enough time understanding me now.

I totally understand your state of mind, dealing with new toys, and will say a prayer for you. It just might help. In any case, there is a sympathetic shoulder in Redmond, Oregon upon which you can cry. 

"Inevitable progress" is code for "Drive the old fogies nuts." Only youngsters and old wannabes use the term.

Heck with transistors and chips.  Give me a good ol' genuine too-hot-to-hold vacuum tube.  I'll take the good ol' days anytime."