THE CHARACTER AND PURSUITS OF THE MAN OF THE MINING VILLAGE
Among other things, at Christmas I received one of those HP printer/scanners that were advertised for twenty eight dollars. I was ecstatic, because my old printer died a miserable death several months ago. I’d been hinting loudly to my long suffering friends, all three or four of them, that a new printer would enable me to resume production of my revolutionary pamphlets. Sure enough, they came through for me and this morning I was sitting on my living room floor with a shiny box full of printer parts.
Almost immediately, I discovered the reason these printers were sold for such a ridiculously low price was that they come with almost none of the detachable parts that a printer requires in order to function.
Undeterred, I went to my Big Box of Computer Junk and found all the parts I needed except one: a USB cable. In my program of painfully dragging myself into the twenty-first century, I had neglected to supply myself with modern cordage.
So I found myself facing the fact that a shopping trip to the big city was in order. I buckled myself into the borrowed, ancient Ford LX which I’ve dubbed Rocinante, and set off for the big city.
I’m not a big city person. I love the pace of life in my little semi-deserted mining town. I love being near open country, and the spectacular view of the mountains. I love being able to disappear into rough country and go camping on the back side of the mountain.
The single drawback, and it’s a big one, is that the dating life here is abysmal. I’m tired of the occasional one night stands which is all my town seems to afford, and I’m desirous of something more permanent. I’m slowly wrapping my mind around the fact that to get a partner worth having, I’ll have to look for him where there are greater quantities of men.
You’d think that alone would be enough to start me packing my bags. In fact, I don’t think a phrase exists that’s more calculated to perk up my ears than, “greater quantities of men”. It just has a ring to it. But back to the real story.
In my research I had heard wild rumors of a place called the 99 Cents Store, which supposedly had USB cables for 99 cents. My cupidity was aroused(and my cupidity is considerable), and I discovered that of the twenty or so outlets in town, there was one on the side near me.
After driving for forty-five minutes, I arrived to be told, “Why yes, we do carry them! Unfortunately we’re out right now.” However there was another store, all the way on the other side of town that almost certainly did have them.
Rocinante bravely sprang into action, heaving and wheezing, and we made the arduous hour long trek across town, only to discover that the last cable had been sold just yesterday. “But we’re getting a new shipment in next week. Come back then!”
I stopped at Comp USA, which had the same identical cable for $21. This was simply not to be considered.
I finally stopped at the Store Which Must Never Be Named. You know, the one whose owners are worth more than twenty-five per cent of the world’s poorest nations. That one. I’m not proud, but they had my cable at a reasonable price.
We’re home now, and Rocinante has been bedded down for the night. I’m sitting in my living room watching my new printer make friends with my hard drive. I’m confident they’ll learn to work and play together well.
When a lonely Hard Drive meets a willing Printer…