I still don’t have a cell phone. I say “still” because it isn’t simply a case of not having one at the moment after I dropped it in the toilet or something. I’ve never had one. Ever. I’ve got a land line and six phones (one of them a rotary) plugged into wall jacks around the house.
Yes, it’s a pain in the ass when I travel, and I’ll probably pick one up at some point, but eh, what’s the rush? And quite frankly, I’m sick of traveling.
I have fancy, hot-rodded, stereo, tube amplifiers and custom-made high end speakers, but I don’t have an .mp3 player. I have a CD player and a turntable.
An .mp3 player would be very convenient, I know, but I dread the idea of having to burn all those albums and CDs. Maybe I can hire some kid to do that and mow the lawn all at once?
I don’t have cable. I used to have it, back during the 1990s when crap like FoodTV still seemed novel. But somewhere around 2002 the local evil monopoly, Comcast, stood me up on three different occasions when they were supposed to come out to my house. Not once, not twice, but three times in a single year. Each time when I complained, they apologized and promised a $20 rebate on my next bill. Each time the next bill didn’t have a rebate. The first two times I called back and they finally gave me my $20, hardly worth an entire day, much less all the rage and aggravation. The third time I came to the entirely reasonable conclusion that their consistent failure to initially make good on their bad behavior is nothing short of a conspiratorial, unwritten policy, and I cut them loose. Here’s hoping they go out of business.
I don’t miss cable at all. I have rabbit ears hooked up to my fancy flat screen panel TV. I can watch football and PBS. What else do I need?
I don’t have a laptop, a tablet, or an e-reader. Just a desk top. And I didn’t get the internet at home until 2006. It was so I could watch the World Cup. DSL, of course, not broadband from those sons-a-bitches at Comcast.
I don’t have a new car (1998) or a new house (1900). Hell, even most of my suits and ties are used.
But all of a sudden, I do have a Twitter account.
Yes, yes, I know, it’s all too tangled, contradictory, and just plain weird to make any sense of. The sho
rt version is that, contrary to some accusations, I am not a Luddite. I don’t fear technology. I’m not angry at it for taking my job. I don’t want to riot and smash machines.
I’m just lazy and austere.
“Austere” sounds a lot better than cheap. I learned that from the redneck side of my family.
Anyway, the long and the short of it is that I get around to something when it makes sense to me. I’m non-plussed by fads and fashions. And if I’m gonna shell out cash or spend real time on something, I want to feel confident that it’s not a colossal waste.
So after a lazy yet careful assessment, I came to a conclusion: It’s time to tweet.
This website will be a year old at the end of the month, and I’m ready to augment my unsolicited, electronic media presence. There’s the FaceBook page of course, and I’ve recently signed up for Google Plus. It’s full steam ahead. Heh, heh, that’s a Luddite joke, get it? Never mind.
Anyway, it turns out ThePublicProfessor was a little too long, so I ditched the “The,” and you can follow me at:
@PublicProfessor
It’s all very exciting, of course. Haven’t said a damn thing yet but I’ve already got 16 people following me, a jaunty assortment of curmudgeons and rabble rousers. I’m gonna kick it off tonight in style, tweeting about a melange of things, serious and otherwise. Of course President Brack Obama’s going to give a speech to Congress, even if a bunch of actual Congressmen won’t
be there; it’s also opening night of the NFL with the defending champion Green Bay Packers hosting the New Orleans Saints; and I’m hosting a poker game.
So if you’re online tomorrow night with your computer, or perhaps one of those fancy wizard phones I’ve heard so much about, feel free to chime in and we’ll get this thing started.
Hey, the sky’s the limit. Or at least that’s what Icarus seemed to think.