Much was made last week of idiots, er, people, waiting in lines at stores for the newest iPhone when it was released. I hate lines, but even so, was not tempted to wait in one as I don't even have the first one.
The cell phone I do have is about eight years old and has stuff on it, but all I know how to do is call out and sometimes answer a call if I hear it and can get it out of my pocket in time. If it goes to voice mail, there is a 50-50 chance I'll figure out how to bring it up.
And, then there is this new effort to get folks to stop texting while driving. I don't have to stop doing that as I have never in my life texted in a car, or, for that matter, anywhere. Shoot, if I were to get even a phone call, I wonder where the music is coming from most of the time (my ringtone is "Bad Moon Rising," although I have been known to reach for the phone when the radio plays the song).
If I haven't forgotten it at home, there is no way I can get it out of my pocket while seated and seatbelted. We can evidently text. Liz has the same phone and does text two friends who are into texting. It involves hitting keys several times, but I don't know how and won't bother learning either.
So, I Guess Being Technolgically Impaired Has Its Good Points. --RoadDog
Being an account of some things I'm interested in, what I'm doing, and reflections on my past, especially music.
Listen to this man. Seven years of college, you know. Trying to reason with 2020 and, now, 2022.
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