The Curmudgeon is Not a Technophobe

The Curmudgeon is not a technophobe.

The Curmudgeon is not a technophobe.

The Curmudgeon is not a technophobe.

How can a person who owns two computers, a cell phone, an iPod, a GPS, a Kindle, a digital camera, a scanner, two portable hard drives, and an EZ Pass transponder be a technophobe?

Oh, yes, and a shredder.  Does that count?

How can a person who has his own blog and who writes not one and not two but three blogs for his employer be a technophobe?

How can a person who pays his bills online be a technophobe?

How can a single guy who meets most of his dates online be a technophobe?

How can a guy who has both a Facebook page and a LinkedIn listing be a technophobe?

Oh, sure, The Curmudgeon’s cell phone isn’t a smartphone, and only six people in the world have his cell phone number (although one of the six is an ex-girlfriend who he assumes erased it from her phone long ago).  And he admits, his success rate in answering cell phone calls – the four or five he receives a year – is a little less than fifty percent on the first try because he’s never quite sure which button to push because he pushes them so infrequently.

Okay, he also has no idea if his phone takes pictures, although everyone says it must.

And yes, while he has cable television, he has the modest package, thinks the letters “HBO” represent nothing more than 11.5 percent of the alphabet, and watches those cable offerings on a nineteen-inch screen.

And he doesn’t have a tablet yet, mini or otherwise, because he still has this silly notion that when he’s not sitting in front of his computer it’s because he doesn’t want to be sitting in front of a computer.

But The Curmudgeon is not a technophobe.

Okay, he admits, both of the televisions he owns are hooked up to VCRs – but one of those VCRs is a dual DVD/VCR.  That should count for something, shouldn’t it?  It only took him a year to connect that particular device once he bought it – that’s not too bad, is it?

And that old-fashioned telephone land-line, the one that plugs into the wall and has one of those long spiral cords that connects the base unit to the receiver, certainly came in handy last fall when Hurricane Sandy left him without power for three days.

So no, he doesn’t tweet.  And he thinks Bluetooth sounds like something you should bring to the attention of your dentist.  And while he doesn’t have TIVO and has never even seen it, hey, he knows what it does – the same thing he does now with his VCR (that is, record programs he’ll never get around to watching).  On the other hand, he has no idea what Blue-ray is, although he suspects it’s kind of like Betamax.

He read recently that Instagram now does video, and he’s confident that once someone explains to him what Instagram is he’ll immediately understand why that’s a major improvement over the status quo.

He admits he doesn’t dig Digg, although he can usually dig it, doesn’t have a MySpace (although that’s apparently very 2007, which means for once he’s in the mainstream), and has NoInterest in Pinterest.  He also doesn’t text, except in emergencies, and still suspects that pressure to text one summer made him ornery and pissy and contributed to the premature demise of a clearly doomed but at the time still thriving relationship.

The Curmudgeon doesn’t Photoshop, but that’s okay because it seems silly to shop for photos when you can just take your own (but with the digital camera, not the dumb phone).  He never Pins It, preferring paper clips, doesn’t give anything a Thumbs Up because it seemed only appropriately respectful to retire that gesture once the Fonz went off the air, and thinks The Cloud is a still a reason to go searching for an umbrella, just in case.  He has yet to stumble upon anyone who uses StumbleUpon, has never had anyone share a Share This with him – not even a friend whose last name is Share – is not A-OK with RSS, and giggles every time he hears someone refer to Etsy.

The Curmudgeon doesn’t have a Buffer account, although he occasionally takes Bufferin, finds nothing irresistible about Delicious (he’s always been a Granny Smith guy himself), and as little as he knows about all this stuff, suspects that Flickr is redundant with Instagram and invites the two of them to duke it out for supremacy, with the loser to go away forever.  He doesn’t understand how anyone can take seriously something called Squidoo, feels the same way about Plurk and Orkut, and isn’t anywhere near social enough to feel the need to Reddit anything, anyone, anywhere, or any time (plus, of course, he hates the idea of using that made-up noun as a verb.  Also, he’d like to note at this point that spell check has been no help whatsoever in putting together this piece.  It does not like all these made-up words.).  He owns a ton of drinking glasses and therefore has no need of Tumblr and thinks Yelp is a sound made by dogs in distress and mezzo-sopranos.

And he admits that he occasionally misses the comforting “You’ve got mail” with which he was greeted on his old America Online account.

But The Curmudgeon is not a technophobe.

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