"A Man Has Got to Know His Limitations."
A wise man once said that.
It was Dirty Harry Callahan.
Or maybe it was Vanity Smurf.
I don’t know.
Either way, it is all sage and junk.
I am aware of the fact that I have an addictive personality. I’ve known it for years.
It is why I never allow myself to bet on sports. And why I very rarely do lines of coke off of a hooker’s breast.
I even kicked a 16″ pizza a day habit. And THAT wasn’t easy.
But, I have another addiction, dear friends. One that plagues me so. I keep it at bay for a while, but invariably it comes raging back at me.
You see, I’m addicted to gadgets.
Whew. It feels good to get that out.
Like a weight has been lifted, you know?
I had been doing well as of late. But yesterday the incomparable Jazz posted and mentioned a Blackberry.
I felt that familiar twitch. The room became just a little warmer. The cravings were starting.
Friends and family will say things like “You don’t really need that, Peter.”
What does “need” have to do with anything.
They are a bunch of sillies.
My gadget addiction has been likened to some women and how they feel about shoes.
However, until you can check your gmail and update the starting line-ups for fantasy sports teams on a stiletto slingback, I’m not feeling it.
Like most recovering (sort of) addicts, I’ve tried to give myself over to something bigger than myself.
I chose a carpenter that was born many years ago. A man with wild ideas and unruly hair. Someone who is misunderstood by many, while adored by others. And yes, obviously, this man is…
My Uncle Vernie.
Though I don’t think that newfangled gadgets are exactly in his wheelhouse.
I suspect that his reply would be, “What the fuck is a Raspberry? Do you talk to young ones on it?”
I suppose that I’ll have to face this challenge on my own.