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talktoolooseI keep going into the computer store and eyeing new G5s; either the 1.8 ghz single processor tower or the 20" iMac. And then I go home and I realize that I don't really need it. In fact, the only significant improvement in our lives would be Snake's ability to play the SimCity he bought last year which he didn't realize required something faster than our current 466mhz.
But that's it. No other reason to sink thousands.
Then we were looking at our long-distance bill and I had the bright idea that if we got high-speed 'Net access (instead of our current dial-up) and started using Skype, we could leverage a bunch of the long-distance money into high-speed instead and come out ahead or on par. But that would mean somehow getting Snake and Toutou's parents technologically ready to voip their way into the 21st century. And besides, we'd be stuck near the computer in the basement for long-distance instead of cozily hiding in the far reaches of an upper bedroom.
So, it's not really worth it.
Damn, it's hard to be a consumer when you unplug yourself from most commericals and start thinking for yourself! But my reflex consumer impulses—pathways etched in childhood—ache like phantom limbs in the middle of the long pastoral weekend.
But that's it. No other reason to sink thousands.
Then we were looking at our long-distance bill and I had the bright idea that if we got high-speed 'Net access (instead of our current dial-up) and started using Skype, we could leverage a bunch of the long-distance money into high-speed instead and come out ahead or on par. But that would mean somehow getting Snake and Toutou's parents technologically ready to voip their way into the 21st century. And besides, we'd be stuck near the computer in the basement for long-distance instead of cozily hiding in the far reaches of an upper bedroom.
So, it's not really worth it.
Damn, it's hard to be a consumer when you unplug yourself from most commericals and start thinking for yourself! But my reflex consumer impulses—pathways etched in childhood—ache like phantom limbs in the middle of the long pastoral weekend.
