by Peter Hamilton Travis
Inside even the least creative minds lives a worm. Not unlike those worms at the center of almost any discussion regarding computer viruses.
Unless you have a Mac®. Then you’re safe. Until the newest version of your $2,700 lap warmer is released — within a year — rendering your sparkling, magic machine as cutting edge as a doorstop.
Do I sound bitter? I apologize. Unless you happen to be bitter also. Then we’re good.
You may just have a worm. Not an actual worm, not to worry. That would be disgusting and worth a trip to the nearest MRI. I’m sure your insurance will cover it.
If you have insurance. I’m sure you know — by now — that Health Insurance Companies cannot make a profit without withholding payment for whatever it is that ails you. They’d go broke. Much like we go broke trying to pay for what they won’t.
Golly, I do sound bitter. And nobody wants to read a column written by some sour, trodden-over soul. That would be the opposite of entertaining. It would be a real downer. Let me just switch gears. Rattle out that worm…
There we are. Muuuuch better. Thanks for sticking with me through all that drudgery.
Did we all have a nice Thanksgiving? I sure did. Although as of Tuesday afternoon, my plans were to throw a pity party for three on my couch. Just me, my ridiculous dog, Romeo — and Wally, my ever-suspicious, excessively judgmental cat.
Then I took a nap. And woke up with a completely rebooted Operating System. No worm. Just a crazy compulsion to make Thanksgiving happen. Not happen to me.
I brought dinner over to a friend who could really use a great Thanksgiving. Delivered. We even wore crowns (her doing, not mine) — crafted from an unidentifiable printed source. More cardboard than craft paper. Or, perhaps paper — of an astronomically heavy weight?
Just two adults, wearing 60 lb. paper crowns printed with…stuff, enjoying the best that Round Swamp Farm can muster. Which, from a non-professional foodie — is intoxicatingly delicious. Especially when we’re talking Thanksgiving Dinner — from pita chips and dip to pie.
The stuffing alone made us giddy. It’s safe to say that by the time warm pumpkin pie was served — a la mode (Joe & Liza’s Butter Pecan) — we found ourselves attempting to make a video with our phones. Which turned out to be roughly 7 seconds in length. And featured the two of us (sans alcohol) trying to channel our joy into song.
And failing miserably.
We just ended up garbling like two giddy, slightly damaged hens — wearing homemade paper crowns. It was priceless!
If you’d like to see the video, feel free to leave a few comments online once this issue gets posted. If I get 5 requests — the video goes on YouTube. Yes, I can be bought that cheaply. Look — times are tough.
Although you’d never know it, watching ten minutes of Prime Time TV. Specifically, commercials for: cars, car insurance, smart phones, WiFi tablets, vodka, credit cards…
Who is buying all these cars? Nobody I know. And if no one is buying cars — why are they making so many cars? And relentlessly jamming them down our throats with ads touting cars that work seamlessly with your new smart phones and WiFi tablets.
Seriously? Was there a bolt of lightning I missed getting hit by?
I don’t recall anyone offering me a paper cup of Kool-Aid.
I would have graciously tossed it back.
A “Kindle?” Did anyone ever understand the need for a Kindle? How about 9…or 14 different models of Kindles they’re currently carpetbagging?
How many ways do you people need to read a 900-page story about a 400 year-old Vampire falling in love with a cheese-making, public school teacher from northern Vermont who raises Alpaca to feed her insatiable loom?
When was the last time you lost your paper and ink book charger? Not the one for the house — but the car — with bluetooth docking/charging station. Best make sure your new stylus upgrade doesn’t disrupt that whole pairing thing. With your…
Which reminds me. I wrote a book — a cartoon book. It’s sold on Amazon. But in order for people to download my little cartoon book to their electronic machines — I have to upload it.
Or, you could simply pop into any BookHampton.
Here I am — whining about computers — while I sit here in front of one to write this (complete with a bigger hard drive thanks to those fine folks at Sag Harbor’s own GeekHampton).
I am such a hypocrite!
However, this hypocrite sincerely wishes all of you the happiest of holidays.
PETER HAMILTON TRAVIS is a writer who does not read. For those of you who are avid readers — now you have something to paw yourselves about for the next month.