Obsolete Toys, Obsolete Me

Today, it is my duty to reveal the sad, sad truth about myself. Are you ready? It's this. I am obsolete. My toys/tools rather prove the point.



Exhibit A: My computer is more than four years old and gasps and groans with what I try to make it do. The hard drive is so small that I need two external drives to hold my files. All those pictures that Cuppa and I keep flashing before your bedazzled eyes must be stored somewhere after all. Heck, even the blog template (that you see on the computer screen and possibly before your eyes at this moment) is old now, almost as old as the computer. I don't even think I could design a blog template anymore. What I once knew about building web pages has all but evaporated from my tiny brain.

Exhibit B: We've already talked about the camera. I have recently been reminded of its usefulness; some of the pics that I have posted recently were taken with it, and I rather like them. I also think of the wedding last year and how the results from my camera held up pretty well against the newer and more expensive Nikon showoffs (kidding). I know this because I am the guy who processed the pictures and made the album. I wonder if the newer visitors among you would like to see the album? Beware though, it was a gay wedding, and if that offends you, just kindly move on. For those who read about my camera dilemma last week and are curious, I must report that I still haven't made a decision. I thought I had decided to drop the notion of picking up a new camera, but I find that my mind is turning it over once again. Who knows what I will do? I don't.

Exhibit C: That would be our cell phone to the right of the camera. Would you believe it's more than six years old? I mean, who else on the planet brags of a six year old cell phone? Even more oddly, its number is still the same old one that we used in Sarnia, several area codes away on the other side of the province. We haven't changed it because we can't talk to a real person at Rogers, and the computer voice, called Melanie, is no help us at all. Needless to say, we don't use the phone much. We use it primarily for exigencies, so we use it seldom because who the heck experiences many exigencies?

Exhibit D: Behold my iPod. It too is old in technological terms — four years old in point of fact, and it was end-of-the-line model when I bought it all that time ago. I think most people throw their iPods on the heap after a year or two, but the ancient, decrepit AC insists on hanging onto to all of his obsolete stuff with bulldog tenacity. Meanwhile, both daughters are on their second iPods and are now spoiling themselves with their iPod Touches. It's amazing what these little gaffers (the Touchy Pods, not the girls necessarily) can do: play movies, surf the Internet, polish your shoes and I don't know what else.

Exhibit E: Finally, I come to our ancient GPS: the one with the tiny green screen and paltry map data bases. It can't even talk for goodness sakes. It works for us as a glorified compass and not much more but that's primarily what we bought it for because our obsolete car (I forgot about our obsolete car until now) didn't come with a compass, and we couldn't even buy one as an option. Sheesh!

So, there you have it. My stuff is obsolete and so am I or at least my back is; it passed its best before date a long time ago now.

But don't feel sorry for me. Just send replacement items or cash: whichever is most convenient for your loving and compassionate little hearts. Just don't call me on the cell because the number, belonging two area codes west, is long distance.