Thursday, June 9, 2011

The Commute to Grossinger's Would Be Too Much

If you think some of the stuff you read here is scary now you don't want to be around on days the idiot idea governor doesn't kick in, like today. I was sneaking in my two mile power walk yesterday morning while breaking in the cellphone Patrick has loaned me to see if I really like an Android (and the answer, as Father Damien once said, is 'more or less two thumbs up!') in comparison to the Blackberry I've had.

Yes, it's daunting to have a phone smarter than I am, but, I should note I already have a pocket comb smarter than I am. Point in fact I have a rubber eraser in my pencil case that is a member of Mensa in comparison to me. It's a really cool phone though I tend to approach it with a chair and a whip since otherwise I never get close to an even playing field with it.

It has Slacker Personal Radio in it ('the neat little treat you can eat with a spoon' what a pity they aren't Spaghetti O's because that jingle is ace), because I had it in my old phone and I like it a lot, except when they bring out a new version and then I have to relearn all the rigmarole and secret knocks and handshakes that go with it. Especially when you add in a new phone that does the same stuff but differently, ouch! (Didja notice how I worked in 'old phone'? Pretty suave, eh?)

I was having trouble getting Slacker to work-the irony of the name wasn't lost on me but at five in the morning my sense of whimsy isn't often fully awake-and since there was no one else out on the track I was singing to myself. Technically, I was talking as if there were musical notes to go with my sounds, since singing is probably too kind a term for what I was doing while I struggled with the touchscreen interface on the cellphone.

Eventually I got it to work although I think what actually happened was that it decided to work all by itself and luckily for me I wasn't in the way when it chose to so do. The first song it played on the channel I created for The Civil Wars (of whom I am inordinately fond. And who doesn't love the word 'accoutrements'?) was Amos Lee and Keep It Loose, Keep It Tight-which I think, for physical exertion, is some pretty good advice.

Because I wasn't paying attention at that hour, my brain went back to a record library in Frankfurt am Main and a conversation I was having with Gisela's colleague (whose name I remember but will not use here) on material he'd delivered to Radio Master Control earlier in the day. He chose to program an ancient episode of Amos and Andy on electrical transcription and which vanished, thankfully, from the turntable moments before it was slated to air. Had my legs and knees been in their current shape thirty years ago, more than one of us now would still be looking for a job one step ahead of a very angry mob.

And then just as abruptly as that reverie started and stopped, I flashed on 'be the change you want to see in the world' as Mr Lee was taking it to the bridge and realized, with a shock, it was Amos and Gandhi meaning all that sensitivity training was now gone with the wind. I'll be here all week, but thankfully (for you) no more for today. Remember, please, tip your waitress. (And you thought I'd choose this. And of course she does.)
-bill kenny

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