Once again I must plead for understanding from my so-forgiving readership. I have ended up taking a two-week vacation from this column, watching as day after day slipped by without an entry, and all I can say is: “I’m sorry.” Although my native sloth had something to do with it, and I have been terribly busy trying to get a couple new assignments nailed down, the main problem has been the phone. I haven’t had one. Any of you who live in Michigan will confirm that explosive population growth combined with a series of high-wind thunderstorms, have lengthened phone line repair calls into the month and a half territory. I have finally found an alternate way of downloading these gems of wordplay, but the line at home still has a way of shutting down in the middle of everything, which is the reason I haven’t been able to answer any of you who took the trouble to write me Twenty-five Minutes from Dinkleville. I will try to get this mess straightened out. Geezo Petes!
There have been other reasons why I am late as well. As constant readers may remember, when my loyal and well-beloved palmtop, the Psion, developed screen trouble, my pal, the Reverend Riches of Columbus, Ohio, offered to make me an early Christmas present, and send me a Palm. We discussed models and features and decided on a Visor, the new Palm-clone, with add-on modules. This gave me several weeks to contemplate getting it and anticipate myself into a froth. He bought it on Monday, wrapped it on Tuesday, mailed it on Wednesday. By Friday it had still not arrived. Fortunately, by the use of philosophical detachment, and a deep appreciation of the simple things in life I was able to shrug off my frustration. I was handling it beautifully.
“So have you written your column yet?” asked my lovely wife, Deen. I shuffled my feet, in the charming way I have, and studied the weave of the carpet.
"Well, not quite yet,” I murmured. “I'm reading about the Palm." "You're always reading about the Palm," remarked Deen. "You were reading about the Palm yesterday, and the day before yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before... HEY!"
Obediently, I snapped back to attention. "What, Sweetness?" I inquired.
"You were thinking about the Palm, weren’t you? Just now, when I was talking to you?"
“Why no, Dear One," I lied unconvincingly. "I always pay the strictest attention when you are detailing my lapses. I think of it as self-improvement by attrition."
Playfully, she shied a shoe at my head. "Cheesing me off is not advancing your cause, Geek-Boy." She then proceeded to say a great many other things, but I missed most of it. I was thinking about the Palm.
You see, this is not just a palm, as in Palmpilot, we’re talking about here; when Jeff Hawkins, the guy who originated the Palm, was bought out, he left to found a better company, to manufacture a more versatile, less expensive, product. This was the Visor. It is virtually identical to the Palm III, with the addition to a gameboy-like slot in the back, into which can be entered modules with modems, more memory, an automatic backup utility, digital cameras and pretty much the whole shiboo. And whilst they were at it, they chopped a C-Note off the price. I naturally needed information on this brave new world; soon I had several how-to books revolving around the Visor and its Palm operating system, essentially studying a machine I had yet to see. Not quite true; Staples has recently started distributing the Visor, a fact which did not get by me.
''So where have you been?" inquired my beloved, later on this same day. "You left to walk the dog five hours ago."
"Um. No place special. I, uhh - the dog needed a new leash ... " Her beautiful face clouded.
"I can always tell when you're lying. It doesn't take five hours to buy a leash." I felt myself flushing under her regard; my belly knotted. I had to say something.
"Well, it was this way - I met this old friend of mine ... from college, and she offered to buy me lunch. It was all perfectly innocent; still there was something, a hint of electricity in the air, or perhaps it was jasmine. She asked me back to her hotel room to look at her samples; she sells pasta out of the trunk of her car. Suddenly, she was all over me, rekindling what I thought was long dead between us. I tried to be strong, but, but..." Her lip curled scornfully.
"Don't pretend you had an affair," she snapped. I can guess the truth. You've been staring at Visors again... haven't you?" I hung my head.
"I was weak. They are so pretty. And the screens have so much contrast, not like the LCDs I grew up with..."
"My god, you've been touching them, haven't you; playing with them and calculating square roots when the sales staff isn't looking?"
"They encourage it; they chain them right there to the counter; and how am I going to know how to use my Visor when it finally gets here unless I practice?"
"One of these days they're going to arrest you for loitering, molesting a floor sample or something. How will I ever explain this obsession to my friends? It's humiliating!" She studies me. "Why are you making those weird motions in the air?"
"I'm translating everything you say into Graffiti gestures. You see, the PalmOps uses a simplified, one-stroke alphabet for writing on the screen, and ..."
"AHHHHH!"
"That's a good example. The 'A' is a simplified '^' form, without a cross-bar. The 'H' is basically a lower-case 'h'; to make them upper-case ..."
"AHHHHH!"
"No, really, this is interesting. If you make an upperward stroke..."
"AHHHHHHH!"
"I don't think you want to learn."
"Thank you. THANK YOU. I do not want to learn. You have been talking about nothing but this Palm..."
"Visor."
"Visor for weeks ever since you found out you were getting one. I've heard about Graffiti,the superior operating system, the clear screen, the simplified, brilliant interface, Jeff Hawkins, everything, until I am blue in the face!"
"In the Visor-world we call that 'teal', Dear." This seemed not to mollify her. "Besides, I've been talking about other things. Just an hour ago we were discussing alternate scribers..."
"AHHHHHHHH!"
"I think you'll like this, then. My column this week is about waiting for the Visor to get here. "
"So even your column is obsessed with this machine, a gizmo you haven't even seen yet?"
"Well, you know the Reverend sent it on Monday, now it's Friday, and ..."
"It's still not here. You're surprised? You know that we're far enough west that our mail is routed through Chicago. It could be days until it gets here."
"Doesn't bother me. I got the manual from the library; we can curl up by the fire and read each other the technical specs again ..."
"AHHHHHHHHH!" We talked about many other things after that, but I wasn't paying attention; I was thinking about the Visor.
