So we're going out today to buy DVRs because mr. delagar needs them desperately, because, and I quote, his computer "is full." Don't ask me how one fills up a computer, especially one with not one but two external hard drives, but mr. delagar can manage it.
Before we can leave I must dig around through the rubble on the floor of mr. delagar's car, looking for Bruce Springsteen's new CD, which is the one I am listening to non-stop these days, it's nearly as splendid as Billy Bragg, but I can't find it, because when mr. delagar finds one of my cds in his cd player he whips it out and flings it across the cars although he claims he does not but, hmm, somehow my cds end up on the floor of the car and his end up in the cd holder, how would that happen otherwise? You make the call.
Anyway, I finally find it, without about sixteen other of my cds, including my very favorite, Brewing Up With Billy Bragg, which came all the way from Essex via Royal Mail, and I put it in the CD player and off we go, driving across Pork Smith in the driving rain.
Soon the CD begins to skip and fade. I swear, mightily, using all the splendid nasty words that I have learned from the main character in my SF trilogy, who really uses the most appalling language.
mr. delagar takes no blame for the bad condition of the cd. It's not his fault. "This is why you shouldn't leave cds in cars," he claims.
"Because I might want to listen to them there?" I say.
"You should download them," he says, "and transfer them to DVRs, and--"
"Except your COMPUTER is FULL, remember?"
"Well, that's why we're buying DVRs," he points out, extracting the cd and polishing it on his shirt and reinserting it. "Basically," he explains to me, "the physical world sucks anyway. We should download everything."
"Except your COMPUTER is FULL. Remember?"
"Download everything, and move it to DVRs, and --"
"Then it would all be physical again. And suck."
"Well, yes. But we could store the original. Then it wouldn't matter if the copy sucked." He gazed cheerily out at the pounding rain.
"My head hurts," I said. "And my knee. Too bad we can't download me."
"And me," he said. "I should be downloaded. I could live in a cube. And have a sixteen inch dick."
"Now what would you need with a sixteen inch dick if you were virtual?"
"A man always needs a sixteen inch dick," he explained.
"With a backup copy," I agreed.
This, if anyone was wondering, was why we were both so amused as we went walking into Office Max on Rogers Ave this afternoon. Had nothing to do with the sale on three-ring binders.
Though that was nice too.