The De La Garza household has officially entered the '90s. My mom and I went shopping for a computer on Saturday and came home with a carload of Compaq equipment which still sits unopened while I wait to get the nerve to set it up.
I'm not afraid of computers, I just don't know if I really want to enter this great Computer Age.
I'm a typewriter man. I like the sound of the keys clicking and the return bell sounding. I like the idea that I can stick a sheet of paper into the typewriter and it comes out with whatever I typed onto it.
There's no "print" command to give. There's no dealing with fonts. It is what it is.
It may be considered archaic in today's society, but to this day, each and every one of my papers has been turned in typewriter written, save for a couple of exceptions in which they had to be produced by a computer. In that case I had to drive all the way down here and use the always-spacious computer lab.
Until recently, these columns were handed in on regular typing paper, showing off the fact that my correction ribbon wasn't working properly. To make it easier on Production (and myself, as I would learn), I started using the computers in the newsroom to hack out my literary masterpieces.
After numerous questions directed towards the lovely and patient editor in chief, I've finally gotten to the point of writing one of these things without having to ask anyone anything.
Yes, I understand computers make paper writing easier. Yes, I understand the vast amount of information available to me on the Web makes research easier too. And yes, I know there's a wealth of porn just waiting to be downloaded. I, however, will be using the web for two major reasons: UFOs and wrestling rumors.
What I want to know is, where does this leave my beloved typewriter? I had visions of writing the world's greatest novel sitting in front of it, smoking many cigarettes and drinking much hard liquor.
This vision did not include a blinding monitor beeping incessantly when I typed in a wrong command. I can't see a drunken future Nobel Prize winner producing the definitive work of his age on a Compaq, using a program owned by the world's geekiest billionaire.
I am not against computers. It's far too late for that. What I am against is prejudice against typewriters. Oh, just because they don't have any fancy graphics or, or, or spellcheck, you think it's okay to, to, to senselessly make fun of them and call them old and out-of-date?
I see it. Don't think I don't see the sneers you computerphiles direct towards Brothers, IBMs and Olympias? You people make me sick with your, your, your AOLs and your Prodigys and your Pentium whatevers. Oh, I'll go along if I must, but I will never banish my baby to life in the attic. I've spent a great deal of time up there with my imaginary friends, and if the rats don't get you, the spiders will.
There's one on the monitor right now. No wait, it's on me. There's another one, and another one, and another one ... There's hundreds of them! Oh my God! The computer's sending its spider children to trap me in its web! Run, "Typie," run before they get you too! Somebody, anybody ... Aaaaa!
De La Garza, a senior political science major, has been
persuaded to conform.
Send him happy thoughts at
edelagar@bayou.uh.edu.