By thoroughly modern emmet
You know that look.
It comes when friends just can’t believe how stupid you are, but don’t want to get into it. I got it last week from Waldo Walt and Jefferson Phil, on Elba Island.
They just couldn’t believe, their expression read, that I spent that much time on my smart phone reading e-mail and the many, many other services.
All right, I admit that I check my e-mail too many times a day. I get ball scores and news on the smart phone. I watch the occasional movie. It has become my personal television station. I cannot live without it.
First of all, I get weekly updates on the World’s Most Perfect Grandchildren, Meara and Matty. How else would I see them grow and prosper? (Matty dropped his braces this week). I get a lot of messages, photos (even recipes) from my delightful nieces, whom I love to pieces. I read more messages from the children of Jefferson Phil than he does.
I signed up for various political web sites during the election (O’Bama won) and they are mostly boring now. But I do forward the most extreme messages to Caveman Purcell in Dixie, just to assure myself that he still has a pulse.
Naturally, I have signed up with several e-newspapers including the Fort Myers News Press which carries stories of the daily murders and mayhem.
Naturally, much of the e-mail traffic is endless insults between Cousin Jerry (Lost in Germany), what’s left of John Day, Chief Al and his Harley and, of course, Caveman Purcell. (None of us work).
There are daily pics of Ireland. Unfortunately, I get too many pictures from photographer Joe Devenney, who reminds me that I am no longer a photographer (used to be), but he is. Pain in the lower gluteus. He makes up for the mysterious loss of boring boat pics from Neal Parent (lost in Ireland).
For God’s sake don’t tell him but one of the very best features on Facebook is the work of “Brain” Willson, who makes daily treks to the peak of Beech Hill. He takes along his trusty dog, Captain Jack and a camera. He supplies almost daily pics of the bird population, which he carefully identifies. He could be making it all up for all I know, but the pics should be in a book. Last week he got a picture of a huge coyote.
Blue Eyes decries Facebook as a waste of time, but she always wants to see “Brain’s” latest work.
A surprising benefit is the web site of Paul Carrier, cashiered from the Press Herald. He mixes news, history, comments and book reviews along with a surprisingly interesting chronicle of raising chickens in a mini-coop. The chronicle is so interesting that I have been ordered to forward it immediately to Blue Eyes.
How can Jefferson Phil and Waldo Walt live without these features?
In a weak moment I signed up for MGM Legends and now get daily pics of the old movie stars. I love that. I fell for the glorious Lisa Rinna years ago when she starred in Days of Our Lives, a former addiction. Now, I get new pics of her every few days. (Don’t tell anyone).
No one can argue that this is not a grievous time waster. When I hit my rhythm, I finish e-mail, just in time to catch up on Facebook. When I finish Facebook, there is always more mail to read.
Is it lunchtime yet?
In my lonely hours, I search the smart phone for “apps” or applications. I can tell you the correct time and weather from here to North Korea at the touch of a finger. I can rent a room (discounted) anywhere in the United States at the touch of a finger. Nearest Restaurants? Gas stations? Motels? I have them all and you don’t. I can get road directions to anywhere, anyplace, even the Pickled Parrot in Spring Hill, Florida.
That damned smart phone is never out of arm’s reach. I even sleep with it to listen to the Tony Kornheiser podcasts as I drift off…dreaming of Lisa Rinna.
I must go check and see if she sent new pics.
Waste of time?