I've never been on the best of terms with what you might call the modern world. By "modern," I mean anything invented after the wheel. At dinner parties, guests talk about the latest um thingamajig that they either watch, listen to, play, download, or all of the above. I smile and nod to indicate that I know what they're saying. They undoubtedly know that I don't know what they're talkin' about, though, because all that smiling and nodding makes me look like a bobblehead doll.
Sometimes, I come clean. "I've never heard of that," I'll venture. Or, "Huh? I didn't know a thingamajig could do that." Let me say here and now, honesty may be the best policy, generally speaking. But it's not such a good strategy at a dinner party where expressing ignorance only leads to everyone talking right past you as if you were a plate.
I feel like a walking doctoral dissertation. Plate or Bobblehead: The Dilemma of A Premodern Man in a Postmodern World.
Not long ago, I took my malfunctioning computer to an Authorized Computer Repair Shop. I had avoided going there for two reasons. One, I would have to explain the problem. I hate explaining the problem. I have only recently learned how to explain the problem to car mechanics and then only after I discovered that the problem almost always involves a "loud clunking sound." When it comes to computers, there is no loud clunking sound. They just crash.