Macs are idiot-proof. So when my mom (who lives in Florida) said she wanted a computer to email her friends and get pictures of my brother’s kid, I figured we couldn’t go wrong with a Macbook. Sure, you can do more with a PC, but I didn’t feel like trying to explain to my mother the ins and outs of Windows configuration. And I dreaded trying to walk her through a blue screen of death over the phone. I knew that my life would change somewhat once my mom had access to email. I figured I’d get a lot more forwards about orphans or pictures of kitties. She sends me the usual Jewish “humor” emails. But I was prepared for those. What I wasn’t ready for was the daily calls. “There’s a bouncing thingy on the bottom of my screen. It says to update Safari. What’s Safari? Is it okay to click that?” “Is it okay to open an email from Unknown Sender? I can’t view the picture of a dog that he sent me.” “Why do I need to update iTunes? I never use iTunes.” At first, I tried to explain it to her in layman’s terms – software updates are necessary to fix bugs and security glitches and to improve stability.
But after five minutes of silence, I realized that in order for my mom to understand her computer, I’d have to break it down into her language. “You should just ‘click OK’ anything that bounces on your computer. If you don’t, it’ll just keep bouncing. Forever.” Annoying her. And me. My mom’s also fallen in love with video iChat. Moving across the country used to mean that I’d see my mother about twice a year. Now, the familiar bleat of the Video Chat Invitation interrupts me almost daily. Because I’m polite, I usually answer. And then my mom starts in on me. “What are you wearing? Why haven’t you shaved? It’s two o’clock there.” “I’m sitting around in my underwear and I don’t need to shave because I’m unemployed. What can I do for you?” “I just wanted to say hello. Grandma got a new cat.” I don’t even have to chat with her for it to affect my life. My computer’s revolutionized a lot of things in my life – my writing, my schedule, my correspondence. Even my masturbation.
t’s now possible to almost instantly find any perversion I feel like. But nothing kills an erection faster than “Beeedle-eeeedle-eeedle! Beeedle-eeeedle-eeedle! Video Chat Invitation From MOM.” For Chanukah this year, I’m buying her a typewriter.
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