Nook for the Schnook

As I get older I’m taking special pleasure in dealing with young people in the service industry. I get to act/be ignorant about technical things, and ask dumb, obnoxious questions, trying the patience of the most saintly young salesperson, and thus confirming their budding belief that people - and older ones in particular - are idiots.
I’ve done this a number of times, so Mrs. Jaybee is used to it. So I now resort to taking the kids along. I consider the possibility of an embarrassing public display, which kids just love, icing on the cake.

Well, try as I might, I couldn’t shake the composure of the young lady trying to sell me a Nook. Actually, that’s not true. She was standing behind the counter at Barnes and Noble, minding her own business, when the Jaybee family approached.

I more or less accosted her, and although the device was displayed behind a glass case, I would say things like “How dare you thrust this new fangled (I love saying newfangled now.) contraption (another favorite) in my face?”

I proceeded to use sentences beginning with the tried and true:
• When I was your age…
• In my time…
• What, real books aren’t good enough for you?
• You’re just trying to lure me in, and then you’ve got me hooked…
• It’s just a device for brainwashing* people…
Having just read “The Lost Symbol” by Dan Brown, I may have hinted at a plot by the Masons.

And generally acted like the very existence of a Barnes and Noble in that location was somehow an imposition on me.

Now some of you may wonder why I would do such a thing. But, c’mon! Get with the program, baby boomers! You and I are now on the wrong end of our life span, while these young people are at their peak physically, mentally, emotionally. They can take it! And don’t you consider it your duty to suck as much life out of them as possible?

And when you finally buy the thing (and you always intended to anyway) act like you’ve somehow been wronged and that they owe you a favor. Try to get the sales person’s cell number and address with a promise/threat of a call or visit if the slightest “problem” occurs.

So, if you’ve harbored a secret ambition to make young people old prematurely, here are some tips for making the biggest Pain In The Ass (I call it the PITA list.) of yourself:

1. When they hand you the device, hold it upside down.

2. When they correct you, hold it back to front.

3. No matter how visible the On button is, always loudly ask “How do you turn this darned thing on?”

4. Repeat step 3 for the Off button.

5. Always say that it’s too small.

6. Then say it’s too big.

7. Ask if it comes with HBO, even if it’s a toaster.

Somewhere, there’s a naïve hipster standing behind a sales counter, ready to do his best at work, and someday join the Peace Corps. It’s your job to get him to start drinking heavily and work at the post office.

So let's get out there and do this!

Oh, by the way, the Nook is pretty cool.

But don’t tell them I said so.

The Geezer’s Guide to Dan Brown

I don't know why, but I always seem to read Dan Brown in the large print editions. It just works out that way. And when you factor in all the funny looking pictures he gives you, it’s almost like reading a children's book. An unfair characterization, especially coming from me, since I never figure out the clues hidden in the symbols. (Figuring out how a marching band can morph from the “OHIO STATE” formation into “OH SHIT!” is more my speed.)

Take Angels and Demons (please), which was as big as two bricks but not nearly as heavy. Even though I’m a notoriously slow reader (I barely get through a line before a new Burger King commercial catches my eye.) I read it in a weekend. Yet, I still feel somewhat shortchanged.

Still, one thing you have to give Dan Brown is that he’s fun. Good clean silly fun, disguised as serious fun. He even seems a little edgy when he goes up against Religions With No Sense of Humor that I’m a member of but that shall go unnamed (begins with a C).

And for me, possessor of at least a dozen pairs of cheap reading glasses (you can get good cheap ones at my old nemesis, Costco) the large type adds immensely to the fun. It’s not that the large type allows me to read without them. I’m a little too far gone for that. But when I put the glasses on and read the large type, it’s not just the fonts that appear huge. The silliness factor itself seems to multiply. The exclamation points become humungous. And, believe me, there are a lot of them.

Now before you go thinking I'm some kind of snob, let me explain that I'm an equal opportunity disdainer - I don't care if it's Shakespeare, if I hate it, I hate it. And if all I’m looking for is a good time, who am I to blame Dan when he provides it? Sometimes even unintentionally, like this line from The Lost Symbol:

"He stood beneath the frigid water for a full minute to close his pores and trap the heat and energy within his core."

Okay, I know the character's supposed to be a nut, and Dan's just writing it from his point of view, but, Jesus, where the hell is his core? He spends a lot of time walking around naked, so you have many opportunities to ponder the possibilities. By they way, do you have a core? Do I? If I do, please don't tell me.

But by all means read one of these books. If you have to, go for two. But for heaven’s sake, don’t read three. I did, and I really want that weekend back. But I kid. A&D wasn’t bad. It’s just when you read three or more Dan Brown’s you risk a case of terminal silliness. I’m not going anywhere near Deception Point.

My advice is to go with The DaVinci Code for the cool concept and smooth execution. You can skip Angels and Demons, which is practically the same book, plot-wise. The Lost Symbol isn’t bad, and it’s got the wildest bad guy (who’s really no more over the top than Hannibal Lecter in Hannibal, core and all). Plus, the mixture of American and Masonic history is a blast. (I was feeling inferior to those smart-ass Europeans after reading DaVinci. Seems like our guys were just as crafty as those bastards. In your face, Rennaissance! USA! USA! USA!)



Sorry about that. The silliness is contagious…