Many of my friends on social media are among the 5.2 million Facebook users who accepted the 10-year challenge, uploading side-by-side a photo of themselves from a decade ago and today. I did not take part, and it had nothing to do with the fear that one glance at my ugly mug would cause seizures or be used to improve Facebook’s nefarious facial recognition algorithms.
The truth is, I haven’t changed my Facebook photo since 2009.
In fact, for years I went without a photo at all, until I was shamed by “friends” who whined they were sick of looking at that anonymous gray head every time they checked out my page, as if there was anything worth reading there. One big problem, I had no photos of myself on my computer, let alone having a clue about how to post the damned things. Thank heavens my friend Gene had a decent-enough picture and took care of it. He got so fed up with my constant inane questions about technology that he packed up his wife and doggy and moved to Tennessee. He says a terrific job beckoned, but I’m dubious.
Anyway, you’re probably thinking, ‘Bill, you ignoramus, why didn’t you just choose a pic from your phone, upload the gigaboot, convert it into an RGB JPEG, and drag it into your gongoozler?”
It’s not that simple. My Verizon Wireless LG VX3300 flip phone didn’t have that capability. It still doesn’t. I haven’t changed my phone in 10 years, either. Nor have I sent a text message in 10 years. It’s quite an ordeal, let me tell you. If I wanted to type the letter “z” I’d have to tap the “w, x, y, z” key four times. A real pain in the posterior. Let’s say I fancied sending a msg (I recently learned that’s “message” in cellphone lingo; LOL) like “Did you see how much weight Lavinia gained?” I’d have to tap the keys about 15 gazzilion times. The IT guy at work said there’s a shortcut, but after a few seconds of hearing about T9word and soft keys my feeble brain shut down and I started drooling.
To say that I’m technologically-challenged is an understatement. Let’s face facts: Nomophobia is not a problem for me. I’m not opposed to technology. I love my iTunes. When I visit friends’ homes, I have fun taunting Alexa (“Alexa, where can I buy plutonium north of Boston?”) and Siri (“Siri, do you have a boyfriend? Is he cute?”).
Some of my FB “friends” are excited about the $1,500 return of the “sexy” Motorola Razr foldable cellphone, which was a big hit back in 1806. No thanks, my flip phone works just fine. And my frugal nature demands that if something still works, why trade it in for an updated, expensive model.
I bought my current flip phone when my old mobile phone died and the staff at Radio Shack said it was unfixable. It was black and bigger than my first apartment. At the Denver airport in 2003, security rifled through my luggage and found the black brick. “Sir, what’s this?” asked the young screener. “My cellphone.” “You’re freaking kidding. Hey Mabel, look at this.” The two stood there and roared with laughter as they stuffed my clothes back in the suitcase.
My prehistoric PowerBook G4 laptop has seen better days and the Wi-Fi disappeared when I updated to Leopard years ago, but I still use it daily. It’s basically a music player for my iTunes library. The iPad I bought in 2013 to write onsite while I covered the first Boston Calling festival works great … except when music starts playing for no reason. I have no idea how to stop it. My first generation iPod mini is in “recovery mode” and asks for my keychain password, whatever that is. I can’t get past the tech-speak in the Apple forum, so it sits in a drawer.
At home we get the most basic Comcast cable. My wireless router crapped out in November. I bought a new one, and waited until Christmas so my loving nephew, who lives in New Jersey, could help; he installed it in about three minutes. If I tried, well, I’d be homicidal and still plugging an ethernet cable into a USB port.
I still play CDs and vinyl. Streaming? Nope, I want to “own” my music. My trusty 2003 Toyota Corolla has roll-up windows and a CD/cassette player. It has no heated seats or modern conveniences. I’m lucky it has wheels. It has no Sirius or GPS and my flip phone has no internet, so I can’t check my Hotmail and AOL email on the road. I print out driving directions from Google Maps, which amuses my young co-workers to no end.
Guess I’m just an analog person in a digital world, getting by the best I can. So far, so good.
Wait, what’s a “fatal error” message? It just appeared on my com
