Take a Ship

     My father always sailed on technological waters both with speed and decisiveness. By contrast, I flounder around like a fish out of water. In the 1960s my father had the first audiocassette recorder in the neighborhood. In the 1970s he was one of the first with a VCR and one of those motorized antennas that could be pointed in the right direction.

     To my father, gadgets were serious toys. To me they were whatchamacallit thingys.

     I got my first computer thingy 12 years after Time Magazine named the home PC its "Machine of the Year." I got my first cell phone thingy four years after all my friends and coworkers had already been using theirs. And I got my first iPod thingy just last month, as a present, which I'm actually enjoying because of my long commute on the train.

     iPods are so archaic now, however, that no one ever inquires what I have on it or asks if they can sample its quality. Good thing, too! Because they'd likely hear some things that would make them want to lock me up. Sure, they'd hear some of my all-time favorites, like my friend Beverly Bremers' "Don't Say You Don't Remember," the Hollies' "He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother" and Loggins and Messina's "Watching the River Run." But they'd also hear lyrics like these:

     "There ain't no ladies, there's only pigs and whores..."

     "I'd rather see you dead, little girl..."

     "Go take a ship for yourself..."

     "My father is a bastard, my ma's an S.O.B..."

     Before you call the political correctness police on me, here, in order, are the sources of those lyrics: "Class" (from the soundtrack album of the movie "Chicago"), "Run For Your Life" (by the Beatles), "The Ship Song" (by novelty singer/songwriter Benny Bell, of "Shaving Cream" fame), and "Gee, Officer Krupke" (from a recent cast recording of "West Side Story").

     Well, I probably won't be using my iPod on the train much longer, anyway. I'll be checking emails instead, because in a few months I plan on getting one of those smart phone thingys.