Monday, February 28, 2011

Mr. Fits Meets The Future

So we got a new pc. Laptop from Acer. 8 gigs of memory skillfully perambulating an Intel iCore 7 processor, whatever the hell that means. Well, what it means is that the thing goes like a bat out of hell, much faster than the desktop I'm working on now which has a quarter the memory and a medieval brain in comparison. Lots of other whistles and bells, not many I would ever use but there just in case. 

One of the more interesting aspects of this entry deep into the bowls of the 21st Century is the router that now seems to run my entire life. Playstation3, printer, Netflix et all beaming from the HiDef flat panel, all zipping along sans the heretofore ubiquitous trail of cords. My finger has barely finished completing its task of clicking PRINT from the wireless mouse when the HP Photosmart begins regurgitating to beat the band. The TV in all its 1086 glory takes seriously the command from the wireless universal remote and whisks the inquisitor to movies and sitcoms and even Have Gun Will Travel.

And a helluva lot faster than back when my Father would growl, "Put on Bonanza". Which lessens the necessity for having lots of slaves kids and therefore something the Chinese should begin instituting immediately in order to save themselves from inevitable starvation.

Processors faster than ever I'd dreamed, a wire free environment, and Richard Boone. With the touch of a button, the landline Panasonic can answer calls from cell phones as well as those still employing Mr. Bell's baby. And not to forget that Bluetooth thing, too. Just the other day, I answered a call, pushed some buttons and stuck on an ear piece. Then realized I'd just phoned myself, left a message, responded back, and somewhere in the middle of it all sent money to the Fraternal Order of Police.

I still gotta get up to fetch pretzels from the microwave but I suppose that's good. Then again, I really haven't read all of the manuals that came with all of the gadgets so who knows. Oh yeah and lemme pass on some good advice. The thing trespassing across the floor of your den might in fact be a ROOMBA the better half just uncrated from Amazon so try not to shoot first because dammitall no blasted critter is sneaking into my space. Trust me. Forgiveness is a long time coming. And good luck trying to convince Amazon that the ROOMBA arrived full of all that buckshot.

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