Jesus A, what’s the world coming to? My brother Cliff talked me into buying a computer last year and cuz he said, “I needed to get with it, the Internet was where “it” was at.” Well, I wasn’t necessarily concerned about ole “It” but I bought one none the less and it indeed changed my life. Ruined it might be more to the point!
I don’t care whether it’s banking, shopping, Social Networking, (Bout as Social as a room full of lard) or surfing (I thought you needed water) them neat sites where them young fillies take off their britches, it just ain’t worth the aggravation. I mean I did think them sites where you could meet the girl of your dreams were neat but then my computer came down with a virus and it cost me $199 to get it cured. Now that right there’s pretty damn stupid if you ask me. When I showed Cliffy what my computer was doing he told me “Merle, you idiot, you got a virus!” Well I felt perfectly fine, but I took the computer down to Doc Keltchen to see if he knew what the hell to do. I’ll never do that again cause he laughed my ass right out of his office and then Cliffy directed me to the place where I’d bought the damn thing in the first place and $199 later it was cured. Stupid if you ask me. My Playboy magazine never got sick.
Then I had another problem with it one day where it just sat there and stared at me. I started hitting buttons and keys and cursing the damn thing and it just sat there. I finally called Cliffy and he said, “Merle, boot the damn thing.” So I did. Did I tell you I had to buy a new computer after that one. I never did hear the end of it from Cliff and he’s always bringing it up whenever the family gets together. Burns my butt listening to him carry on about it. “Then the Nitwit picks it up and kicks it across the room” and everybody laughs. Well, I ain’t laughing that’s for sure. I was out another $900 and I was still faced with the fact that Clifford was my brother and I couldn’t change that.
The other thing that drives me bananas is no matter what you do, where you go on it, ya gotta do a profile and you have to have a password and if the password ain’t to their likin, you gotta do another one. Hell I got so damn confused I started writing the damn stuff down on my kitchen wall with magic markers and crayons so’s I could remember what was on what. I’d write “Banking: Username: “Me ya Dumb asses, Password: Ollie Ollie all in free.” Sears Account: Username: “Merle ya dumb asses, Password: buttscratcher.”
Well, it gets mind boggling at times it does, although I kinda liked the way the kitchen wall started lookin. It was sort of New Age meets The Dead Sea Skrolls if you ask me. As a matter of fact I liked it so much I thought I’d look into maybe getting a patent on the design so I “Gargled” it and sure nuff, I needed to fill out a profile and give them a username and password. I said screw it and went and got me a snoot of Beam instead.
I hate this new technology stuff and I swear I dream at night of the good ole days when a telephone was a telephone and it was stuck to the wall with a dial on it that had clearly marked numbers on it and in those days you didn’t have nitwits driving through ditches cause they were on the phone talking to their nagging wives. I dreamed of the day when you”Mailed” somebody and it had a stamp, not an E, and you actually said something intelligent instead of something that covered your ass. I even dreamed of the day you could go down to the bank and talk to a real person like Arlene and she’d help ya figure out why you were off a couple thousand dollars in your checking account. Never once would Arlene say, “Merle, if you want your account information say one, Merle if you want your interest rate say two, Merle if you’d like to borrow more money say three.” No Arlene’d say “Merle, you poor man, how’d you end up with a negative $2,000?” Of course she’d always be wearin something slightly revealing and smell like a million bucks so it’d help me forget I was over-drawn a couple thousand dollars in the first place. Personal service like that is a thing of the past, it is. Oh well, I guess I’ll just have to soldier on. “Beam me up Scotty,” Nice thing about ole Jimmy Beam is you don’t need a damn password to get in it. Naw, ya just sip it till you “PASSOUT.” Ah, the simple life! TECHNOLOGY BE DAMNED!!!!
I don’t care whether it’s banking, shopping, Social Networking, (Bout as Social as a room full of lard) or surfing (I thought you needed water) them neat sites where them young fillies take off their britches, it just ain’t worth the aggravation. I mean I did think them sites where you could meet the girl of your dreams were neat but then my computer came down with a virus and it cost me $199 to get it cured. Now that right there’s pretty damn stupid if you ask me. When I showed Cliffy what my computer was doing he told me “Merle, you idiot, you got a virus!” Well I felt perfectly fine, but I took the computer down to Doc Keltchen to see if he knew what the hell to do. I’ll never do that again cause he laughed my ass right out of his office and then Cliffy directed me to the place where I’d bought the damn thing in the first place and $199 later it was cured. Stupid if you ask me. My Playboy magazine never got sick.
Then I had another problem with it one day where it just sat there and stared at me. I started hitting buttons and keys and cursing the damn thing and it just sat there. I finally called Cliffy and he said, “Merle, boot the damn thing.” So I did. Did I tell you I had to buy a new computer after that one. I never did hear the end of it from Cliff and he’s always bringing it up whenever the family gets together. Burns my butt listening to him carry on about it. “Then the Nitwit picks it up and kicks it across the room” and everybody laughs. Well, I ain’t laughing that’s for sure. I was out another $900 and I was still faced with the fact that Clifford was my brother and I couldn’t change that.
The other thing that drives me bananas is no matter what you do, where you go on it, ya gotta do a profile and you have to have a password and if the password ain’t to their likin, you gotta do another one. Hell I got so damn confused I started writing the damn stuff down on my kitchen wall with magic markers and crayons so’s I could remember what was on what. I’d write “Banking: Username: “Me ya Dumb asses, Password: Ollie Ollie all in free.” Sears Account: Username: “Merle ya dumb asses, Password: buttscratcher.”
Well, it gets mind boggling at times it does, although I kinda liked the way the kitchen wall started lookin. It was sort of New Age meets The Dead Sea Skrolls if you ask me. As a matter of fact I liked it so much I thought I’d look into maybe getting a patent on the design so I “Gargled” it and sure nuff, I needed to fill out a profile and give them a username and password. I said screw it and went and got me a snoot of Beam instead.
I hate this new technology stuff and I swear I dream at night of the good ole days when a telephone was a telephone and it was stuck to the wall with a dial on it that had clearly marked numbers on it and in those days you didn’t have nitwits driving through ditches cause they were on the phone talking to their nagging wives. I dreamed of the day when you”Mailed” somebody and it had a stamp, not an E, and you actually said something intelligent instead of something that covered your ass. I even dreamed of the day you could go down to the bank and talk to a real person like Arlene and she’d help ya figure out why you were off a couple thousand dollars in your checking account. Never once would Arlene say, “Merle, if you want your account information say one, Merle if you want your interest rate say two, Merle if you’d like to borrow more money say three.” No Arlene’d say “Merle, you poor man, how’d you end up with a negative $2,000?” Of course she’d always be wearin something slightly revealing and smell like a million bucks so it’d help me forget I was over-drawn a couple thousand dollars in the first place. Personal service like that is a thing of the past, it is. Oh well, I guess I’ll just have to soldier on. “Beam me up Scotty,” Nice thing about ole Jimmy Beam is you don’t need a damn password to get in it. Naw, ya just sip it till you “PASSOUT.” Ah, the simple life! TECHNOLOGY BE DAMNED!!!!
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