Granddaughter Brigid spent
her break from the U of Chicago with us, even though her MA thesis was due the
day she got back. We left her alone as much as possible, so she could complete
that thesis, but she is our tech person, so Grandma had her change the ring
tones on her phone so that each of her frequent callers would have a distinct
tone. That way she can know who is calling just by the sound. I wanted a quack
sound for my ring, but Helen vetoed that for fear it might go off in the Crazy
Horse bar and get her thrown out.
Young people probably
think this business of distinctive ring tones is some new thing that came in
with cell phones, but it’s old hat. When I was growing up, each of the 14
families on our “party line” had a distinctive ring.
Our phone was a wooden box
on the wall, with a crank out the side. You cranked once to get “central,” the
operator in town, who could connect you to any other phone in the world—if you
had enough time and were willing to pay enough—and you cranked some other
number and combination of “longs” and “shorts” to get another family on the
line.
We were the poorest family
on the line, the only one without a car, the only one on welfare, the one with
the smallest acreage [five], but there was one way in which we were superior to
everyone else: we had the coolest ring tone. Perfect symmetry, two longs and
two shorts.
John Robert McFarland
1] In one of his routines
thirty or so years ago, dead-pan comedian Stephen Wright said: “I couldn’t find
my socks.” [Pause] “I called information.” [Pause. Some laughter.] “She said,
‘Look behind the sofa.’” [Pause, laughter really building by now.] “She was
right.”
It was hilarious, in a way it would not be if he tried to
do it now with Siri, because Siri is general information. It’s reasonable to
ask her anything. But “Information” was specific information—telephone numbers.
It was ludicrous to ask her anything else. Siri is really just information and would
say, “I have found four sock stores within five miles of you.” Information
said, “Look behind the sofa,” because she was a real person.
No comments:
Post a Comment