Taking
a swing at technology
Nick
Genisauski
The
other day, a fellow student told me he was
absent for a previous class meeting and
would like to get the assignments he missed.
As I began giving him the information, he
quickly stopped me short. I watched in disbelief
as he rummaged frantically through his over-the-shoulder
pouch and pulled out a "palm pilot"
with a triumphant look on his face. He fired
it up with the flick of a switch.
He smiled in adoration when the screen welcomed
him and proceeded to fumble around with
a cumbersome writing instrument, popularly
known as a "stylus." At that point,
I wanted to slap the bejesus out of him
and shove that tiny pen where the sun doesn't
shine, but I made a light-hearted comment
and gave him the info. As I walked away,
I kept dwelling on his Tri-Lam haircut and
his bony fingers pinching the stylus like
tweezers, making no use of shorthand and
delaying my mid-morning leak. Gradually,
my emotions overwhelmed me in a vertigo
of "palm pilots," digital cameras,
and the ridiculous pedestal we keep putting
them on!
For
those who feel these instruments are testaments
to our progression as mankind and that we
should embrace the benefits and opportunities
technology has bestowed upon us, I say embrace
this! I will not deny that technology has
kept up with, and at times, lead our slothful
lifestyles. At the forefront of this technological
nonsense is the "palm pilot" --
an electric notepad. In the time it takes
"Dilbert" to punch in one letter
at a time, I have written the Magna Carta
with a trusty stick of pine and carbon.
It's also interesting to look at the wordage
used to describe this device -- palm "pilot."
When writing a note on paper, you control
the pencil. The palm pilot is named in such
a way that it controls you.
Since
we have the KFCs, DVDs, USBs, CPUs and SOBs,
why not add one more and call it something
real cute and clever! There's no doubt that
acronyms have made their way to the mainstream
of our English language -- taking the place
of long-winded, exhausting designations
like Personal Digital Assistant and simply
dubbing them PDA. Part of me feels that
this device has been misnamed. A Personal
Digital Assistant reminds me more of a robot
than anything else. I tend to envision something
like the gift Rocky gives Pauly in "Rocky
IV:" an android that can cook, clean
and make love like the best of them. Think
of a "palm pilot" as an illegal
housekeeper -- it only does a few necessary
tasks, can disappear with valuable files
if not properly programmed, takes patience
to learn its shortcomings, occasionally
comes with a handful of accessories and
can be purchased for a reasonable price.
Another
nicely priced item -- if you prefer your
photos looking like stipple art -- is the
notorious digital camera. Since no acronym
has been attached to this delightful doohickey,
allow me to give you one of my own -- POS.
The sad thing is that I happen to be an
owner of one of these life-altering contraptions.
I say this because gone are the days when
point-and-shoot meant more than just the
nightly shenanigans on Crenshaw Boulevard.
As if technology wasn't daunting enough,
the owner's manual is choc-full of cryptic
diction and diagrams that seem to be taken
from Egyptian walls. Just because you've
figured out the basics of snapping a photo
doesn't mean you're home free! Next, you
find out that a photo-quality printer is
essential to your very own one-hour photo
shop. You quickly discover this when you
attempt to print your pictures of grandma's
birthday or yourself being naughty, and
they turn out like a sonogram.
Lastly,
to get that genuine Kodak look, it is imperative
to find the ultimate glossy paper or is
it the semi-glossy, or the high-gloss? Now
that your camera's batteries are dead, the
abort-light on the printer is blinking,
and the $30 paper is jammed in the furthest
nook of your Photo Smart, you're finally
on your way -- to the garage where you can
send technology back to the Stone Age with
a swift cut from your flame-treated Louisville
Slugger. You're asking me for a witty connection?
There it is -- wood on plastic, Poindexter.
Nick
Genisauski is an English major at Cal State
Long Beach.
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