Sometimes, the digital age confounds me.
I try to stay somewhat current about technology, but I still don’t know what Twitter is. Almost sounds dirty, doesn’t it?
Anyway, I have roving reporter opportunities now and then.
Because there are things about Public Radio that drive me crazy at times, I’ve taken to acquiring CD books to listen to.
Don’t get me wrong. I am not trying to improve my mind. This is purely about entertainment. Mental escapism.
I especially like detective mysteries, and boy, those go from good to very bad fast.
You really don’t know what you’ve got until you’ve got it.
But I’m getting away from the story.
My first experience was excellent – a Scott Turow legal thriller. It was 13 CDs long and went from Tupelo to Pensacola and back with a few CDs to spare.
A couple of weeks later, I started my second tale, only nine CDs long. I figured that would get me to Starkville and back, plus a few other excursions.
And so, I began this somewhat tawdry story of a good guy whose avaricious wife had sent him down a bad path to murder, unethical business behavior and worse.
Darn, those beautiful, thin, scheming women!
The story wasn’t all that great, and I really was becoming annoyed by the narrator’s voice. But I thought, gee, you’ve invested all that time through five CDs – keep going.
As I drove back from Oxford last Thursday, through that driving rainstorm, CD No. 6 started sputtering and skittering all over the place.
“She turned her dark … sk..mrum…..knife….bbbb…cold stare ……plg…sh…bbb…sk..mrum… gone.”
This went on randomly through No. 5 and No. 6. I can’t tell you what happened.
And frankly, as I tried to look at it rationally, I didn’t care. The story stunk. I could say the heck with it and go back for another one about something else.
But gee, I’d never know what happened to that bad woman.
Oh, I already knew the guy was in jail. Maybe even crazy. He started out talking to his psychiatrist.
But what really happened between No. 6 and No. 9?
You know, I’m trying not to care.
“They” say CDs are on the way out. They’re going the way of the 8-track and those little tape cassettes I still have upstairs to play on my daughter’s old stereo.
It’s hard to beat a good Merle Haggard Christmas tape.
If that’s so about CDs, what should I expect to be the next generation of car-riding, story-listening?
Actually, I’m about to get tired of having to change technologies every six months. Could I be getting too old for something new?
No, dag nab it, I’m not.
I’m just tired of paying for something new every time some young whipper-snapper invents it and makes me change my ways.
I don’t need a Swiffer, either. I like my cotton mop.
Contact Patsy R. Brumfield at (662) 678-1596 or firstname.lastname@example.org.
Patsy R. Brumfield/Daily Journal