Tag: Technology

That sweet tooth of yours already got you in trouble once, kid.

But just you wait until Dad discovers the second half of the damage you did…

“Dammit, son! I thought we were done with this whole candy-peepin’ business!”

I looked up from my comic book¹Well, if we’re going to be completely accurate, it was probably my Game Boy. to see one very pissed off father figure holding some papers in a tightly-clinched fist.

“What are you talking about? I haven’t gone near any of that since last month–and that was a one time thing! Believe you me, I’ve learned my lesson…” I stated, figuring that since it was a matter of fact(s), then the facts would exonerate me.

“You went and put $200 worth of your childlike foolishness on my credit card behind my back, and now this?!? Boy, I oughta beat your ass into oblivion right here and now!” he seethed through increasingly gritted teeth.

“Yes, I know–you made such a big to-do about the AOL charges last time,” I said, and I would have sighed in exasperation, but even then with my only partially-developed limbic regions of my brain–and specifically my visual cortex²https://www.forbes.com/sites/carolkinseygoman/2013/02/26/this-is-your-brain-on-body-language/?sh=322534296632^,3https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Limbic_system–I could read ol’ Papa Bob’s body language and tell he was about to lose his sh*t.

(You remember the whole AOL Incident, don’t you, Dear Reader? Of course you do! You just read all about that last time…right?)

Anyways…I retroactively blame what happened next on account of my prepubescent amygdala kicking into high gear. In a truly meta moment, what little executive function I may have had at that age was not enough to stop from blurting out:

“I’m a frickin’ kid, Dad–you don’t actually expect me to have any executive function, do you?”

Ah, yes, if I had a time machine, I would go back and advise my younger self just to plead the Fifth and keep my mouth shut (not that that was a particularly self-incriminating statement, or anything).

“Don’t you try to get out of this by using your big brainiac words with me, boy!”

Did I mention that Dad’s intelligence got insulted easily?

“Oh, sh*t!”

Did I also mention that besides a love of sweets, another of my father’s legacy passed down to me was cussing like a sailor–even though I was waaaaay too young to be so proficient in potty words.

I skedaddled out of the kitchen where we had been having our discussion, through the office and into the living room, as I attempted to evade an encroaching ass-whooping.

“Get back here!” he demanded, further pursuing me on through our weird dining-room-like area and back into the kitchen.

“But I didn’t do anything!” I protested. “Whatever you’re pissed about, it wasn’t me racking up charges on your credit card this time!”

“Wait…credit card?” Dad wheezed as he stopped to catch his breathe. “Who said anything about a credit card?”

“Well, then what’s that in your hand?” I asked suspiciously, safely on the other side of the window-like opening between the dining room where Dad was now, and the living room, where I had scurried around to.

“This?!?” He held up the papers, shaking his fist at me. “This is the phone bill!”

“Oh, schnappes!” I muttered under my breath realizing what had happened.

“You can’t be angry at me about this–please!”I attempted to mount my defense. “I can explain everything…”

“I’m pretty sure I would know if candy factories or stores had 1-900 numbers that you could call and listen to them describe the experience of eating exotic sweet treats that you’ll never get to enjoy in your lifetime–” I didn’t let Dad finish his sentence.

“Wait, what? That’s a thing? Good to know, good to know…”

“NO, that is NOT a thing. Weren’t you listening to what I just said?”

I should also note that I had sort of a talent for frustrating Dad when it came to the Communications Department (and a talent for aggravating him when it came to the Actions Department).

“This clearly isn’t a 1-900 number,” he continued, “so who the hell are you calling in Amarillo in the middle of the night for hours on end? Is it the local Mrs. Bulky’s candy store down there?”

“Dad, Dad, I wasn’t talking to anyone. That’s the AOL Internet Service Provider access number…” this time Dad didn’t let me finish my sentence.

“WHAT THE HECK?!? You said you were done with AOL, you lyin’ little bastard!”

“I AM DONE WITH THEM!” I shouted back. “You already grounded me for this, don’t you remember, you old fart?”

“That was for the credit card bill. This is the phone bill, you dummy!” he retorted.

“IT WAS THE SAME CRIME! You can’t punish me twice for the same offense! That’s double jeopardy!”

“Well, your step-mother isn’t going to see it that way, and frankly, neither do I, so you can expect to be grounded another 3 weeks.”

“DOUBLE JEOPARDY! DOUBLE JEOPARDY! You can’t do this to me! Help! I’m being oppressed!” I said, making a big scene for an unseen audience.

“Son, it was $350,” he said, literally bringing the receipts up to my eye-line so I could inspect the evidence.

“Oh, damn, Dad, you need to call the phone company–those per-minute long-distance rates are tantamount to highway robbery! We can’t let such skullduggery stand!”

“Again, with the big, fancy words,” he warned me.

“Oh, right. In words you can understand: yeah, I kinda deserve another 3 weeks…”

The point of the story is–much like a progressive (or German) parent might do with their teenager when it comes to alcohol or recreational drugs–perhaps you should let your kids have sweets in moderation, where they will at least be under your supervision.

Or you could, ya’ know, just leave them to their own devices–devices like 1400 baud modems–and learn about their midnight shenanigans after the fact. Oh no, I’m sure you won’t be cleaning up after their short-sighted sh*t-show for months or years to come.

Oh, and maybe even more importantly, parents please, please, please understand its never to early to have the dreaded “technology talk” with your kids. Sure, it may be even more difficult and awkward for you than infamous “candy talk”, but I cannot stress how crucial it is.

I mean, how else are we budding Boomers going to learn how to run the latest new-fangled devices and navigate the dangers and pitfalls of the hottest social media platforms? We sure the hell ain’t going to figure it out on our own…

Content created on: 21/27/28 January 2024 (Mon/Sat/Sun)

Young man, pay no heed to the siren’s call of 90s technology!

It’s not worth the cost for some sweet eye candy (and I mean that literally…)

“Pshhhkkkkkkrrrr​kakingkakingkakingtsh​chchchchchchchcch​*ding*ding*ding*!”¹https://twitter.com/briannekimmel/status/1076677576314310656?lang=en

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!” I muttered impatiently to myself.

“Keeeeyyy errrrr beeeep ong dee ong waaahhh urrrrrr!”²https://www.reddit.com/r/AdviceAnimals/comments/1u5qam/keeeeyyy_errrrr_beeeep_ong_dee_ong_waaahhh/?rdt=33107

“You gotta be kidding me! I gotta start all over again??” I exclaimed in impertinent disbelief.

“Urrrr EEEE urrr NNNGGGG CRRRRcrrrr KEEEEEEE grrr nnnnnng!”³https://forums.nasioc.com/forums/showthread.php?t=2598943

“What the hell are you doing?!? Connect already!” I seethed, but quietly so I didn’t wake up anybody else in the house.

…then out of the darkness came a digitized voice…

“Well, since you asked, let me show you exactly what I’m doing…”

On my computer screen flashed this overly-informative diagram:

I rubbed my bleary eyes and took a good hard look at it. I rubbed my chin as if deep in thought and pretended to understand what it all meant–but I didn’t have time to waste so I just faked comprehension as best as I could so we could get on with the show.

“Oh…okay, I see now. As you were then, Mr. Dell, as you were…” I said humbly.

In response, my Dell computer with its blazing-fast 1440 baud modem simply replied:

At that sound, a chill of excitement and anticipation went down my spine. If all went well that night, by dawn we all know what kind of pictures I would be in possession of…

“Candy, candy, candy!” I half-bragged to my elementary school classmates.

“No. Friggin. Way! Really?” one my buddies was clearly in disbelief.

“Yes friggin’ way!” I replied. “Come hang out at my house after school, and I’ll show you all the pictures I have of people eating candy on my computer.”

“So, like, do you have alot of these pictures, or what?” he gave me a side-eye look, suspicious whether I had the goods.

“Well, okay, not alot alot…maybe 15 or 20?” I confessed. “It also depends on how you count…I got a bunch that are mostly foreheads, maybe eyes too–can’t really see what they’re actually eating. I mean, do you know how long it takes to download a single picture at 1440 baud?”

“No, not really,” he admitted as well.

“Um…neither do I because I keep falling asleep before the picture even gets to their hairline…”

…And thus was the blessing and the curse of coming of age at the same time as the internet.

Oh! The promises the world wide web held for us sugar-deprived youngsters who had a healthy sweet-tooth streak in us. Like most kids, we rarely were able to get a first-hand sugar fix, but then along came AOL and with it, the allure of being able to vicariously watch someone else enjoying some gratuitous simple carbohydrates. When you’re that young, there’s a certain thrill in dreaming about one day, when you’re all grown up, what all different kinds of candies and other goodies you’ll be stuffing your face with–whenever you want, wherever you want!

Of course the down side to all this was that if you hoped to get anything besides plain text from the internet, you had to have patience that certainly no 7-year-old I knew⁴I never said I was 7 years old… possessed.

“Um…does your dad actually know that’s what you’ve been doing with your AOL subscription?” someone else just had to chime in and bring our little party crashing to Earth.

“Look, that old man eats junk food all the time–” I attempted to deflect the question, but no one was really buying it.

“So, he has no clue. Hmmmph. Figures.”

“Uh…yeah…so I sorta kinda snuck his credit card out of his wallet to sign up for all the interwebs stuff. Don’t worry, though, we signed up for AOL for a month or so last year when we first bought my computer–I told that Boomer that it wouldn’t work at all unless we paid a monthly fee, and he totally bought it!” I was back to half-bragging again.

“Yeah, dude, I’m sure this will end well…”

“Son, what in the hell have you been doing on your computer?”

So…Dad apparently gotten his credit card bill, eh?

“Uh…candy?” I timidly replied.

“Candy?!?” he replied incredulously.

“Well, actually just pictures of people eating candy,” I said, somehow even more timidly.

“Son, there is a charge on here from something called ‘AOL’ for almost $200!” he said, admirably holding himself together given the situation.

“Oh, snap! Did you just say $200? It was supposed to be $9.95 a month…for the first 5 hours, at least.”

“And after that? Hmm?” he inquired impatiently.

“…and $2.95 for each additional hour…”⁵https://money.cnn.com/1996/11/01/technology/aol/ I barely eeked out.

“When the hell did you have that much time–wait, no, it doesn’t matter. There’s an important life lesson to be had here,” he said, seemingly cooling off a bit.

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” I let out a sigh of relief.

“For $200, I could have just taken you down to Mrs. Bulky’s on Amarillo Boulevard and buy you waaaay more candy than your little mouth could ever eat.⁶For the historical record, no, my father did not offer to take me on a a questionable candy store shopping spree. That would just be some downright irresponsible parenting… So much, in fact, that you might not be able to eat candy for the rest of your life… But I digress. Really the point is, my boy, if you need a candy fix, you don’t have to go behind my back. In fact, your old man is something of a junk food connoisseur himself…”

“Awesome! So, I’m off the hook then?”

Dad looked at me like I was crazy.

“Oh, hell no, you’re not. You know what you’re step-mother–and mother!–thinks of candy: ‘it rots both the teeth and the mind!’ Yeah, even just finding salacious pictures of candy anywhere in the house will really set her off–whew, lemme tell you!”

“Wait, wha–” I attempted to protest.

“Yeah, and you think she didn’t see the credit card bill? I’m going to have to sit here with you and watch you delete every one of those ‘goody pics’ off of your computer,–or she’s going to be up my ass about this for lord knows how long.”

“Oh, c’mon, man!”

“Oh. And you’re grounded for 3 weeks…”

You gotta be ----- kidding me…

Content created on: 19/20/21 January 2024 (Fri/Sat/Sun)