Marking My Territory

As much trouble as it was to get hooked up to the inter webs tonight, once I plugged in, I felt an obligation to put pen to paper.  I need not say anything important or profound.  Just waste some bandwidth leaving a blaze out there in the WWW Wilderness.  Akin to to lifting my leg and marking this back wash of the "Net as mine................ not yours, not his, not even her's. .....................

Of course I could have done this with a tweet, an email, or an Internet Fax.  Tweeting I don't get.  Email's are so 1990's, and well, Faxes date back to at least the 80's, pre Grunge. ............... At my old shop I remember that big honking Fax machine that used to on occasion go manic and print out a ream of faxes in one night.  ........... Learned to hate that fuckin machine.  Kinda soured me on the whole Fax thing......... SO it's the BoZone or nothing.

I was listening to 'The Blimp", our classic rock station.  Seems there was a contest. Frickin Rock Stations always seem to be putting on some "be the 4th caller" trivia, name that tune from one word challenges.  Anyway, some lucky young listener won a real vinyl copy of some classic rock album.

"Hmm" ........... I thought.  "A vinyl record?" ............ I  smiled, .........  "Poor bastard.  Glad I missed out."

Like Twitter, I don't get the fascination with playing vinyl records.  Grew up playing 45 records on my Donald Duck record player.  Moved up the Audiphile ladder to own some of the nicest stereo equipment out at the time.  And even though I learned to treat records gently,  damn vinyl never stays pristine unless you don't lay a needle on it.

Give me the digital renditions.  Clean, precise, no snap crackle and pop.

I had hopes that while I was wasting bandwidth with meaningless dribble, I would have a mild epiphany and actually say something worth reading.  Apparently I was wrong.

Later ........................................................