Yes, I went missing in action for the briefest of briefs. But I can explain.

I began ripping the other day. And I couldn't stop.

No, I wasn't rending my garments or pulling out my hair over my inability to decipher thecurrent tax code. Anyone under twenty-five knows what I'm talking about. Unfortunately, I haven't been twenty-five since 1980 which will give you some idea as to the aging fount of knowlege from which your mind currently sips.

I have been sitting before my brand new 20 inch G5 iMac with 1.8 ghtz, 160 HD, SuperDrive & iSight copiously overcompensating for the past ten years when I have not for one moment been the owner of any technology remotely approaching the border of Cutting Edge.

So now that I have some juice I'm like a rogue child in a potato chip factory. Perhaps the simile seems odd. It wouldn't if you had ever been one.

I have.

Shave forteen years off that twenty-five. When I was eleven my Cub Scout troop toured the Granny Goose Potato Chip Factory in Sacramento. The tour was boring so me and a buddy cut our losses and became disentangled from the group. We stumbled upon the greatest discovery since Ponce de Leon discovered whatever it was that Ponce de Leon discovered.

We found a five foot tall cardboard tub filled to the brim with freshly minted Granny Goose barbecue potato chips. Now I might have resisted a five foot tall cardboard tub filled to the brim with freshly minted plain potato chips, but no one could blame two eleven year oldCub Scouts for being unable to resist the siren song of the processed version of the food that kept all of Ireland from starving.

No one, of course, except an unarmed security guard with a Granny Goose patch where a badge should be. But by then the damage had been done. Several major food chains would face BBQ chip rationing in the weeks ahead.

We became heroes to the other eleven and twelve year olds on the premesis. But security guards and den mothers have no sense of humor. And no amount of revisionist history will ever convince me otherwise.

But that was a rabbit trail we stumbled upon and it's time to return to My Excellent Adventures in Ripping.

One of the terrific features of System X (no relation to Malcolm) is the musical application iTunes. iTunes allows the user to place his audio CDs in a drive bay, record or "Rip" them onto the hard drive. From there one can "burn" a custom CD.

I did this Friday night and I wanted to share the news I had transcended my generation. So who better to share this monumental news flash with  than The Teenager. I knocked on her door.

"Open."

"Hey, guess what?"

"What?" she mumbled barely looking up from her book.

"I just ripped my very first CD!" I blurted in clear violation of the Parent/Teen  For-Once-Please-Try-To-Be-Cool Statute of 1962.

The Teenager rolled her eyes and returned to her novel. "You must be so proud," she deadpanned.

Indeed I was. Not even her attitude of technological superiority could put a dent in that. She no longer has the most souped-up racer on our Information Highway. And she knows it.

For all those in the audience keeping score I now have 1,356 songs compressed into 4.19 GB all stored as safely on the ol' 160 Hard Drive as one can store on a device so fragile it must be created in a sealed, dust-free environent.

For those requiring further clarification, iTunes tells me that if I start at the top of the alphabetical list ( A Beautiful Morning by The Rascals ) and listen to everthing between there and the last song ( that would be Zorba the Grek by Herb Alpert & the Tiajuanna Brass edging Elton John's Your Song by a gyro ) I would have spent, ahem . . . 3.2 days in the effort.

Yup. I'm going for the world's biggest jukebox.

When I informed The Tenager, relaying these numbers as though they were the stats on the back of my Topps 2004 Baseball Card she seemed unimpressed we share similar DNA, let alone the same address

"That's really sad, Dad."

And you know, it is really sad. I understand this now.

And yet, I still have the other half of my music collection to rip.

And Miles Davis to go before I sleep.

 

If I don't come up for air in time for Monday's post, at least you'll know the reason why. Today my 20 inch Imac G5 computer arrived. Isn't it rather Freudian, you might ask, that men are always bragging about the size of their LCD screens? But I wish you wouldn't.

The computer been here almost three hours and, amazingly, it's still in the box. This restraint is not only admirable, but necessary.

I am making room.

My Wife, She Who is From Venus, and I are doing our once-a-decade sweep of all-things-useless from our ministry office, adjacent to the bedroom. I don't want to say we've accumulated a lot of junk, but I wouldn't be at all surprised if the Fred Sanford rang our doorbell tonight and asked to see the amassing piles.

I did the research. I found the deal. The hunter stalked his prey for months and now is carting home the carcass. Raise a can of Diet Coke in my honor. After all, this one needs to last at least 4-5 years.

Or until the next Great Junk Purge overtakes our happy home.

I was born a Macintosh user and I'm pretty sure I'll die one. The reasons are too numerous to enumerate numerically at this moment. I will do some MacTherapy on this couch onother time. Right now I'm fighting a deadline and must stay on point.

I'm looking at buying a new MacSystem to replace the one reposing on my desk. The soldiers have fired off 21 shots and the guys in dress uniforms are folding the flag now for presentation.

I've saved my pennies. Alerted the charming Mrs. O. of the impending purchase. Now it's decision time.

What to do? Take the brand new Mac Mini and soup it up to legendary Roadster status or go for the cool, sophisticated alll-in-one G5 IMAC. In other words, do I want a computer without a monitor or do I want a monitor that seems to have no computer? Life is complicated and sometimes I miss my Mac Plus.

I posted a request detailing my dilemma on the DealMac.com forums.

I've received maybe 20 responses in the first couple hours and still the debate rages on. Other MacSnobs have weighed in on both sides of this (hopefully) win-win coin. But a small contingent has branched off into an unexpected rant in favor of refurbished G5 towers. My head hurts. Too many MacChefs in the kitchen.

But hey--I got what I asked for.

One guy, though, posted this hillarious response in the form of a Maclink on his MacSite. This MacSnob hasn't laughed so hard in a long time. Take a look:

http://www.misterbg.org/AppleProductCycle/

Now if I can only hold off on my MacPurchase until Apple come out with the IMAC G6. Oh my!