Honestly, I’m not as technologically limited as the headline suggests. Really, I’m not.
Heck, wasn’t it me who told a techno-neanderthal co-worker that he’d be better off embracing the laptop generation instead of sending his old Radio Shack TRS-80s back to our in-house computer repair shop? Didn’t I say, “Look. I know it still works. And rocks still work fine for pounding nails. But we’ve got a better thing. It’s called a hammer.”
Yes, I did. I am all about technology, you see. Forget all those labels that the social scientists stick on all of us. Forget Gen X and Boomers and the like.
I’m so pro-tech, I suggest this: Let’s label ourselves (and our generation) more succinctly. We are (from now on) to be known as the video game that defines our youth.
Therefore, I’m either a Pong-er or an Atari-ite, with a small sliver of Pac Man-ia.
See? I’m techno-savvy … as long as we’re talking about 1980s-era tech.
Come to think of it, the last time I was a techno-whiz was 13 or 14 years ago, when I compared those clunky TRS-80s to rocks. And come to think of it, those were great-grammy’s laptops I was so happy to embrace. In the meantime, there’s bit of a information explosion.
News flash, eh? I would have told you about that revolution sooner, but my TRS-80 couldn’t figure out what a browser was.
But now, today, I’m up to speed. I’m with it (do cool kids still say “with it?”) I’m hip. Or hop. Or something like that.
Why now? What happened? I’m glad you asked.
Now, I’m Tweeting.
At the urging of our top-notch tech division here at BDN world headquarters, I have happily embraced another tech advance that sixth-graders around the globe have been utilizing for years.
I have a Twitter account. And I’m not afraid to use it.
I’ve got to admit, Twitter is kind of cool. It also has two very frightening limitations.
First, the cool: I can blast my thoughts into cyberspace and any of my “followers” can read them. (A quick aside: Calling someone who cares enough to occasionally listen to my blathering a “follower” makes me feel a little like a third-world dictator, but I think I’ll get over it. And besides: I’ve only been able to enlist 19 followers thus far, which would make me a fourth- or fifth-world dictator).
Also cool: I can let people know what we’re doing here at BDN Outdoors, and tell them where to find all kinds of cool outdoor content.
Now, the limitations. First, Twitter doesn’t know me, nor does it know my ilk. And when I say “ilk,” I mean, “Those yappy guys who have been known to have five-minute conversations with strangers at the Rite Aid, and who have a very hard time saying anything in a short, concise way — unless, that is, our editors demand it.”
No, Twitter likes people like this: People who abbrvi8. People who LOL. Who say a lot. Quickly.
People who can say what’s on their mind in 140 characters or less.
Me? As I’ve told several friends in recent days, I can’t say “Hello” in 140 characters or less. Not unless I’ve got laryngitis.
And the other limitation: My phone is not smart. And Twitter loves smart phones (whatever those are).
Kidding! I’m kidding! I know smart phones. In fact, I remember the day I first saw an iPhone up close. The cool guy with the midlife crisis had one, and he was showing all of us how much you could do with it. I was somewhat impressed.
Then he turned his magical device on its side, and the screen view flipped to from vertical to horizontal. At that point, I think I fainted.
Which brings us to this: Our tech wizards here at BDN world headquarters have assured me that even though my phone is stupid, I don’t have to be. I should be on Twitter, they say. I should embrace the social media. I should Tweet at the top of my lungs.
The fact that I have only a laptop shouldn’t matter, they told me. It’s a perfectly fine (if geographically limited) Tweeting platform … for now.
Of course, I suspect that will change soon. Like tomorrow. I can hardly wait.
Until then, you can find me @JohnHolyoke. Please follow me. My fifth-world dictatorship is already starting to crumble.