You are falling hopelessly behind. Behind your friends, your colleagues, your neighbors. Behind the world.
I have a machine that plays CDs but not one that burns CDs. My video system is TV and VCR, not HDTV and DVD. My picture tube would be considered "big screen" only by someone willing to watch it with his or her nose pressed up against the glass. I spend my evenings staring mindlessly at a single broadcast channel, not churning endlessly through 200 cable channels. I take photos with film rather than pixels. My idea of a 64-bit video game system is working an Etch-a-Sketch after smoking a joint. I cannot be paged. I cannot be beeped. I do not know how to page or beep others. I'm completely unclear as to how the pageable and beepable are related to the moveable and shakeable. My phones all have cords.
You are letting down your family. And the economy.
I do not live in a Glen, Knoll, Valley, Trace or Meadow.
I do not reside on a Ridge, Point or Green. Size-wise, my home would appear to be the aborted fetus of the homes which constitute most Glens, Knolls, Valleys, Traces, Meadows, Ridges, Points and Greens. Inside, you'll find no media room, no master suite, no breakfast room, no restaurant-quality appliances, no wood-burning fireplace, no cathedral ceilings and no decorator touches. There is no hot tub, whirlpool, sauna or steam room, meaning that in order to satisfy the primal human need to be hot, wet and naked simultaneously I have to rub Ben Gay all over my body and run through the sprinkler. My house has but one bathroom; my bathroom has but one sink; my sink has but one of whatever it's supposed to have two of. My garage holds one car.
Where is your appetite? Your ambition? Where is your pride? Your self-respect? Your fiscal daring?
I do not have my own Web page. Or home page. Or Web site. Or home web. Or page site. Or wome sige. My domain is unnamed, unregistered, unclear and undefended. The only server I have ever relied on is Ruth, the sweet old gal down at the Toddle House who always remembers to bring me ketchup with my scrambleds and calls me "Hon." I find dot-coms intriguing only insofar as I can't figure out why they aren't called "period coms." I have never shopped an "e-tailer." I have never bid in an "e-auction." I don't know how to "e-trade." I will on occasion say, "Eeeee-doggies." Activities done in "real time" sound to me like the antithesis of a "real good time."
How will you ever advance to the now? Who will guide you through the incremental consumption of today's and tomorrow's ever-emergent necessities?
My car goes from 0 to 60 in a time increment entirely unworthy of mention. The interior is not so much "luxuriously appointed" as "functionally illiterate." To open my car's doors requires the onerous touch of a button on the handle instead of the effortless touch of a button on a key chain. Passengers do not have the option of watching videos. In the event of an accident, front and side airbags will not deploy; a call for help, complete with my precise global location, will not automatically be made; and I will die bleeding in a twisted pile of metal, help unsummoned. Because my phones all have cords.
Hi, consumers. I'm Bill Gates, chairman of Microsoft Corporation. And today I'm very excited to be introducing to you our latest product: LifeSoft 2001, version 1.1. It's the easiest, most convenient way yet to upgrade to the fullest every aspect of your entire life. Soup to nuts. What is LifeSoft 2001? Well, in simple terms, it's a fusion of easy-to-install lifestyle software and a liberal revolving line of credit that will, for the first time in history, allow everyone to keep up with today's technology and the Joneses, simultaneously....
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