Have a Turkey Leg

I am of the generation that grew into adulthood without the internet or smartphones. But I adapted pretty well, I think, and am as comfortable as anyone with these life-affecting innovations.

I do realize occasionally, though, that I’m affected by some of the ornery-seeming resistance to change more typical those who older than I am. I’m referring to the way I’ll occasionally respond to certain technological advances with impatience or even outright opposition to having to learn how to use them.

Took me forever to get on board with DVR-ing (for example), as I stubbornly continued to keep the VCR hooked up and in use. Was still using the sucker recording WSOP episodes just a few summers ago. (Finally came around on that one.) I still like using my iPod for music, too, which recently elicted a comment from someone referring to it as “old school,” although it still feels kind of newfangled to me.

I’m handy with texting and tweeting, although don’t do either nearly as often as others. I’m also much less likely to incorporate emojis when I do deliver such messages, although sometimes will when it seems right to do so.

I’m not at all versed in emoji-speak, though, like many of those who have grown up having incorporated these little pictures into their text (itself sometimes abbreviated with acronyms and other shorthand).

Several months ago, I was in the middle of a multi-way chat where everyone was firing off these emojis at a high clip. As a joke, I clicked on the “turkey leg” emoji and sent it along -- a kind of non-signifying signifier saying “Hey, I’m here!”

Since then, Vera and I have gotten in the habit of sending turkey legs back and forth to each other. I’ve even used it with others in random places, realizing that in certain contexts it doesn’t matter what little picture you send. Or at least it doesn’t matter to me, as sometimes I’m sure those receiving them aren’t quite sure what they mean.

Imagine my delight today at being able to send turkey legs all around, and without any additional explanation needed!

For Historical Purposes

Was scrolling through the music on my iPod today, thinking about that funny line by Ron Swanson from Parks and Recreation when marveling at how such a small portable device can hold thousands of tunes.

“The songs just play one after another. This is an excellent rectangle!”

I found myself searching a little longer than usual for something to play, experiencing something I imagine a lot of others carrying around rectangles sometimes do. Among this large catalogue of .mp3s -- distilled from decades’ worth of cassettes, LPs, CDs, and music more recently acquired in various formats, all more or less representing my personal preferences -- nothing was really standing out as an attractive choice.

As I was scrolling, I realized there were a few titles in there I am essentially never inclined to click. Why are those titles on there? At some point along the way, I must have deemed them worth having, but after years of passing them over I still am hanging on to them like some sort of digital hoarder.

I enjoy reading reviews of music. I’ve even tried to write a few myself over on a blog that one day I’ll start contributing to more often.

On many occasions have found leafing through old record guides or poring over another “top 100” (or “top 500” or top “1,000”) list online an enjoyable pastime. I realize that a few of the titles on my rectangle turned up there after I had been convinced by someone arguing for their historical importance. Some I took to, others I didn’t, but all remain on there undeleted as yet.

I suppose with any category dealing with that which cannot be quantified like the “best” albums ever made -- or the best poker players, for that matter, as we were talking about yesterday with the new Poker Hall of Fame nominees -- even the “consensus” constituting what a majority of those making subjective judgments have determined is going to be hit-or-miss for the individual.

The real reason why I keep those titles on the rectangle is that I want to remain open to the possibility of learning something new -- namely, what it was that made others like this or that record so dadgum much. Kind of like the way certain books stubbornly remain on my bookshelf that I’ve always meant to read but never quite got around to doing so.

One day I’ll get to them. For now, though, they sit there like so many rectangles. All excellent, or so I’ve been told.

iPod Ode

Heard some of that rumble today related to Apple announcing a new phone and some other products. Not the most interesting thing to follow for me, although over time I have found myself gravitating over to using a Mac for almost all my computing, and I also have an iPhone and iPod.

Like I say I wasn’t really paying too much attention to the new phone and whatever else, but I did take note at some of the articles noting how the so-called “iPod classic” was being discontinued. “Apple Quietly Says Goodbye to the iPod Classic” went the headlines, referring to how the product which has been around in some form for 12 years was being “unceremoniously killed off.”

Shows how fast everything is flying about, that “classic” doesn’t seem odd at all to apply to something just over a decade old.

I remember Vera giving me an mp3 player -- not an iPod -- about eight or nine years ago. At the time I was actually uncertain I’d ever really get any use out of it, but before long I was listening to it every day. I remember during the early years of poker podcasts routinely downloading them and putting them on the sucker (it would still be a while before we listened to them on our phones). Actually, because I listened to those shows that way, I still have some of those old podcasts tucked away on hard drives here and there.

It wasn’t too long after getting that first mp3 player that I bought myself an 80 GB iPod. That must have been at least five years ago, perhaps longer. Thing has held up ever since, despite my using it practically every single day, too.

I still stick with the LP format, almost always putting tunes on there an album at a time rather than singly. That goes against the grain of how music is generally consumed today, but I can’t get away from preferring leisurely listening to a long-player rather than shuffling about from song to song.

I might just have to grab another iPod before they disappear. Not that this one is showing any signs of giving up, but I think I’ve arrived at a point in the way I listen to music where I don’t want to be without it.