Peter Paul Markin comment:
We live in an age, thanks to Internet technology, where one is able to tell-all in an instant pushing the limits of an already previously burgeoning confessional ethos well beyond what the average person needs to know. Needs to know, frankly, even on the high side of the “information super-highway.” Needs to know about anyone else’s personal business, okay. Well, here is my little contribution to the genre with a half-fictional, half-whimsical tale. But only half...
Okay, okay I have a confession to make. I am being forced to do so, kicking and screaming, and not your average kicking and screaming but door-kicking and banshee- screaming so you know, know deep down, that I do not want do this, by my "soul mate." A woman who I have trusted, trust, and will continue to trust until I can trust no more, although this request stretches that trust thing more than a little. Her telling me, moreover, something about coming clean for the good of my soul. I hate that imperative moral tone but I have learned a thing or two over time. One of the things being that you ignore than “tone” of hers at your peril.
In any case one and all should now know that I am on this North Adamsville Class of 1964 classmate site under false pretenses. [Referring to a site set up by do-gooder members of the class to run amok in our sweetly and quietly aging lives, going gentle into that good night, by peppering anyone they could round up via the Internet with endless questions about what we have been doing for the past almost fifty years-jesus, get lives, get lives please, and let me return to writing political stuff-PPM].
Oh, sure, when I originally came on I, like everybody else, was just trying to take a little nostalgic trip down memory lane to the good old high school days. However, once here, I started to spew forth about the fates of various sports figures like the fleet-footed long distance runner, Billy Bailey, and the behemoth football player, Thundering Timmy Riley, and his heroic partners in the victorious 1964 football season. And high school dances, corner boy life, boy meets girls dates and stuff, “watching the submarine” races down at old Adamsville Beach, drive-in movies and restaurants, be-bop nights and not be-bop nights. Kids’ stuff ready, harmless kids’ stuff.
Then, seemingly as an act of hubris, I felt compelled to investigate various aspects of our common past using a very handy copy, a copy made handy by one Bill Bailey, of the North Adamsville Magnet, our class yearbook, as a guide. I ran through a whole series of investigations from rather simple ones like the pressing question of the rationale for white socks and white shorts in gym (and white socks elsewhere) to the more urgent one of the rationale for separate boys' and girls' bowling teams and, ultimately, stumbling on to the apparently nefarious doings of Tri-Hi-Y. Well, you get the drift- a guy with a little time on his hands and a decided penchant for mischief.
Well those would all be good and sufficient reasons for being on the site, if those were indeed the reasons. But here is where the confessional part comes in. The REAL reason I am on the site is the generic class homepage. Apparently in order to finance the website those curmudgeonly class do-gooders rented out space for cyber-advertising, helter-skelter advertising. Also, apparently, unconcerned about heart attacks and other medical problems for their fellow male AARP-worthies (and maybe female as well), they “permitted” advertising by online dating services. Thus, I am very, very curious, among other things, about those 833 nubile young women, courtesy of one such online dating service, who live near my town and who are just dying to meet an old geezer. (Fellow women classmates, I am sure, get the same pitch with hulky, beefcake young guys.) The slender, slinky, saucy (and intelligent, of course) Kerry, in particular, has my attention. But enough of talking about such things. That above-mentioned "soul mate" would take a very dim view on this subject since I am here merely to confess not to speak of ogling. However now I know why the expression "dirty old man" and the word "lecher" were created in the English language long ago, long before the Internet reared its ugly head into our lives.
That hardly ends this sordid tale though. Other, admittedly, lesser kinds of information also intrigued me like my credit rating. Hell, apparently, my credit is too good. I can't raise a bank loan for hell nor high water. Seemingly only GM, Goldman Sachs, AIG and that bankrupt-prone crowd gets the nod these days. (Now, let's not get political here Peter Paul. Save that for another day.) More appropriately, if ominously, our brethren at AARP have seen fit to extol the virtues of long-term care insurance. So you can see how one can get easily sidetracked. So be it. However, here is the good part. I have taken, and I hope others will join me, the PLEDGE. From here on in I will keep my eyes straight forward on my profile page [each member, as in many social networking sites, has his or her own page, for better or worst], the Class Of 1964 home page and only click on the Message Board section. Well, except for one little, little peek at... winsome Kerry.
Showing posts with label Internet. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Internet. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Out In The Be-Bop 2000s Night- A Class Website Of One's Own, For The Class Of 1964 Wherever You Are
Out In The Be-Bop 2000s Night- A Class Website Of One's Own, For The Class Of 1964 Wherever You Are
Markin, Class Of 1964, comment:
Although these blog sites that I have established tend to reflect old time, be-bop night, hard times, beat times, beat down times, beat down, beatified schoolboy concerns and memories I am not adverse to coming into the new millennium to try, try hard by the way, to deal with the implication of the new technologies like the Internet, Facebook, Twitter and whatever comes up next as the “new” mode of so-called social networking in order to get that “message” out. That said, I was surfing the one such social networking site looking at the class message boards of the classes at North Adamsville just before and after my class, the Class of 1964, and found that Rodger Goldman had made an announcement that the Class of 1965 has its own website hosted by its own webmaster. Correct me if I am wrong but didn't the Class of 1964 have several members who went to MIT or other scientific or technically- oriented schools who could take on such a task?
Actually, these days doesn't someone have an eight-year-old grandchild who could serve in that Webmaster capacity? In either case, isn't there someone who can take on this chore so that we get to see all the photos of children and grandchildren, the family dogs and cats, the aging children of the Class of 1964, and whatever else cyberspace will accept. I am on a crusade, fellow classmates.
Now I have not always been a technie fan. In fact in the past I have been something of a technological Luddite (if you do not know who a Luddite is go to Wikipedia). During most of my life I have consciously kept a few too many steps behind the latest technology, at times from a political prospective and at others from a desire not to get too much clutter in my space. Now, however, although cyberspace does not necessarily bring us the golden age of the global community that I have long hankered for, it does permit those of us from the Class of 1964 to take a stroll down memory lane.
I know there is someone out there who, with evil intent in his or her heart, someone like Frankie, Francis Xavier Riley, king hell king of the be-bop early 196s schoolboy night, says " Well, why doesn't old Markin take on this task?" Fair enough. However, as this is a confessional age, I must come clean here. While I appreciate and can certainly use the Internet when the deal goes down and I get into technological trouble or have to upgrade, etc. I must call in my "significant other" to rescues me. When I say, Cindy, the #*& computer just went kaput she comes to the rescue. Moreover, if the truth were known I also still use a CD player when I go for my walks. In the age of the iPod how yesterday, right? I, however, would be more than happy to write a little something for our website. But we need a Webmaster extraordinaire to get us up and running. And I know it will not be old Frankie and his progeny because, king of the night he might have been but he was (and is) a techno-no. His thing was pitter-patter, and girls. Where is there room for techno-competence in that world. So, as this is also an age that is addicted to sports metaphors- who will step up to the plate?
Markin, Class Of 1964, comment:
Although these blog sites that I have established tend to reflect old time, be-bop night, hard times, beat times, beat down times, beat down, beatified schoolboy concerns and memories I am not adverse to coming into the new millennium to try, try hard by the way, to deal with the implication of the new technologies like the Internet, Facebook, Twitter and whatever comes up next as the “new” mode of so-called social networking in order to get that “message” out. That said, I was surfing the one such social networking site looking at the class message boards of the classes at North Adamsville just before and after my class, the Class of 1964, and found that Rodger Goldman had made an announcement that the Class of 1965 has its own website hosted by its own webmaster. Correct me if I am wrong but didn't the Class of 1964 have several members who went to MIT or other scientific or technically- oriented schools who could take on such a task?
Actually, these days doesn't someone have an eight-year-old grandchild who could serve in that Webmaster capacity? In either case, isn't there someone who can take on this chore so that we get to see all the photos of children and grandchildren, the family dogs and cats, the aging children of the Class of 1964, and whatever else cyberspace will accept. I am on a crusade, fellow classmates.
Now I have not always been a technie fan. In fact in the past I have been something of a technological Luddite (if you do not know who a Luddite is go to Wikipedia). During most of my life I have consciously kept a few too many steps behind the latest technology, at times from a political prospective and at others from a desire not to get too much clutter in my space. Now, however, although cyberspace does not necessarily bring us the golden age of the global community that I have long hankered for, it does permit those of us from the Class of 1964 to take a stroll down memory lane.
I know there is someone out there who, with evil intent in his or her heart, someone like Frankie, Francis Xavier Riley, king hell king of the be-bop early 196s schoolboy night, says " Well, why doesn't old Markin take on this task?" Fair enough. However, as this is a confessional age, I must come clean here. While I appreciate and can certainly use the Internet when the deal goes down and I get into technological trouble or have to upgrade, etc. I must call in my "significant other" to rescues me. When I say, Cindy, the #*& computer just went kaput she comes to the rescue. Moreover, if the truth were known I also still use a CD player when I go for my walks. In the age of the iPod how yesterday, right? I, however, would be more than happy to write a little something for our website. But we need a Webmaster extraordinaire to get us up and running. And I know it will not be old Frankie and his progeny because, king of the night he might have been but he was (and is) a techno-no. His thing was pitter-patter, and girls. Where is there room for techno-competence in that world. So, as this is also an age that is addicted to sports metaphors- who will step up to the plate?
Saturday, December 12, 2009
***A Confession, Of Sorts-For Joyce D., Hunter College High School, Class Of 1966, Somewhere
Click on the headline to link to my "Classmates" profile page to get a flavor of what the post below refers to.
A Confession, Of Sorts
Originally posted in December 2009 on my profile page at Classmates
We live in an age, thanks to Internet technology, where one is able to tell-all in an instant. Well, here is my contribution to the genre with a half-fictional, whimsical tale. But only half...
Okay, okay I have a confession to make. I am being forced to do so, kicking and screaming, by my "soul mate". Her telling me something about coming clean for the good of my soul. Whatever. In any case one and all should now know that I am on this Class of 1964 site under false pretenses. Oh, sure, when I originally came on I, like you, was just trying to take a little nostalgic trip down memory lane to the good old high school days. However, once here, I started to spew forth about the fates of various sports figures like the fleet-footed long distance runner, Bill Cadger, and the behemoth football player, Bill Curran, and his heroic partners in the victorious 1964 football season.
Then, seemingly as an act of hubris, I felt compelled to investigate various aspects of our common past using a very handy copy of the "Manet" as a guide. I ran through a whole series of investigations from rather simple ones like the pressing question of the rationale for white socks and shorts and the more urgent one of the rationale for separate boys' and girls' bowling teams and, ultimately, stumbling on to the apparently nefarious doings of Tri-Hi-Y. Well, you get the drift- a guy with a little time on his hands and a decided penchant for mischief.
Well those would all be good and sufficient reasons for being on this site, if those were indeed the reasons. But here is where the confession part comes in. The REAL reason I am on this site is the generic Classmate homepage. I am very, very curious, among other things, about those 833 nubile young women, courtesy of an online dating service, who live near my town and who are just dying to meet an old geezer. (Fellow women classmates, I am sure, get the same with hulky, beefcake young guys.) The slender, slinky, saucy (and intelligent, of course) Kerry, in particular, has my attention. But enough of that. That above-mentioned "soul mate" would take a very dim view on this subject. But now I know why the expression "dirty old man" and the word "lecher" were created in the English language long ago.
That hardly ends this sordid tale though. Other, admittedly, lesser kinds of information also intrigue me like my credit rating. Hell, apparently, my credit is too good. I can't raise a bank loan for hell nor high water. Seemingly only GM, Goldman Sachs, AIG and that bankrupt-prone crowd gets the nod these days. (Now, let's not get political here Al. Save that for another day.) More appropriately, if ominously, our brethren at AARP have seen fit to extol the virtues of long-term care insurance. So you can see how one can get easily sidetracked. So be it. However, here is the good part. I have taken, and I hope you will join me, the PLEDGE. From here on in I will keep my eyes straight forward on my profile page , the Class Of 1964 home page and only click on the "Message Board" section. Well, except for one little, little peek at... winsome Kerry.
****
A Confession, Of Sorts
Originally posted in December 2009 on my profile page at Classmates
We live in an age, thanks to Internet technology, where one is able to tell-all in an instant. Well, here is my contribution to the genre with a half-fictional, whimsical tale. But only half...
Okay, okay I have a confession to make. I am being forced to do so, kicking and screaming, by my "soul mate". Her telling me something about coming clean for the good of my soul. Whatever. In any case one and all should now know that I am on this Class of 1964 site under false pretenses. Oh, sure, when I originally came on I, like you, was just trying to take a little nostalgic trip down memory lane to the good old high school days. However, once here, I started to spew forth about the fates of various sports figures like the fleet-footed long distance runner, Bill Cadger, and the behemoth football player, Bill Curran, and his heroic partners in the victorious 1964 football season.
Then, seemingly as an act of hubris, I felt compelled to investigate various aspects of our common past using a very handy copy of the "Manet" as a guide. I ran through a whole series of investigations from rather simple ones like the pressing question of the rationale for white socks and shorts and the more urgent one of the rationale for separate boys' and girls' bowling teams and, ultimately, stumbling on to the apparently nefarious doings of Tri-Hi-Y. Well, you get the drift- a guy with a little time on his hands and a decided penchant for mischief.
Well those would all be good and sufficient reasons for being on this site, if those were indeed the reasons. But here is where the confession part comes in. The REAL reason I am on this site is the generic Classmate homepage. I am very, very curious, among other things, about those 833 nubile young women, courtesy of an online dating service, who live near my town and who are just dying to meet an old geezer. (Fellow women classmates, I am sure, get the same with hulky, beefcake young guys.) The slender, slinky, saucy (and intelligent, of course) Kerry, in particular, has my attention. But enough of that. That above-mentioned "soul mate" would take a very dim view on this subject. But now I know why the expression "dirty old man" and the word "lecher" were created in the English language long ago.
That hardly ends this sordid tale though. Other, admittedly, lesser kinds of information also intrigue me like my credit rating. Hell, apparently, my credit is too good. I can't raise a bank loan for hell nor high water. Seemingly only GM, Goldman Sachs, AIG and that bankrupt-prone crowd gets the nod these days. (Now, let's not get political here Al. Save that for another day.) More appropriately, if ominously, our brethren at AARP have seen fit to extol the virtues of long-term care insurance. So you can see how one can get easily sidetracked. So be it. However, here is the good part. I have taken, and I hope you will join me, the PLEDGE. From here on in I will keep my eyes straight forward on my profile page , the Class Of 1964 home page and only click on the "Message Board" section. Well, except for one little, little peek at... winsome Kerry.
****
Thursday, June 5, 2008
***A Class Website Of One's Own, For The Class Of 1964
Click on headline to link to Class of 1965 and THEIR Website as referred to in this entry.
Markin, Class Of 1964, comment:
I was surfing the Classmate site looking at the class message boards of the classes at North just before and after us and found that Richard Goldstein had made an announcement that the Class of 1965 has its own website hosted by its own webmaster. Correct me if I am wrong but didn't the Class of 1964 have several members who went to MIT or other scientific or technically- oriented schools who could take on such a task?
Actually, these days doesn't someone have an eight-year-old grandchild who could serve in that Webmaster capacity? In either case, isn't there someone who can take on this chore so that we get to see all the photos of children and grandchildren, the family dogs and cats, the aging children of the Class of 1964, and whatever else cyberspace will accept. I am on a crusade, fellow classmates.
Now I have not always been a technie fan. In fact in the past I have been something of a technological Luddite (if you do not know who a Luddite is go to "Wikipedia"). During most of my life I have consciously kept a few too many steps behind the latest technology, at times from a political prospective and at others from a desire not to get too much clutter in my space. Now, however, although cyberspace does not necessarily bring us the golden age of the global community that I have long hankered for, it does permit those of us from the Class of 1964 to take a stroll down memory lane.
I know there is someone out there who, with evil intent in his or her heart, says " Well, why doesn't old Johnson take on this task?" Fair enough. However, as this is a confessional age, I must come clean here. While I appreciate and can certainly use the Internet when the deal goes down and I get into technological trouble or have to upgrade, etc. I must call in my "significant other" to rescues me. When I say, Cindy, the #*& computer just went kaput she comes to the rescue. Moreover, if the truth were known I also still use a CD player when I go for my walks. In the age of the iPod how yesterday, right? I, however, would be more than happy to write a little something for our website. But we need a Webmaster extraordinaire to get us up and running. So, as this is also an age that is addicted to sports metaphors- who will step up to the plate?
Markin, Class Of 1964, comment:
I was surfing the Classmate site looking at the class message boards of the classes at North just before and after us and found that Richard Goldstein had made an announcement that the Class of 1965 has its own website hosted by its own webmaster. Correct me if I am wrong but didn't the Class of 1964 have several members who went to MIT or other scientific or technically- oriented schools who could take on such a task?
Actually, these days doesn't someone have an eight-year-old grandchild who could serve in that Webmaster capacity? In either case, isn't there someone who can take on this chore so that we get to see all the photos of children and grandchildren, the family dogs and cats, the aging children of the Class of 1964, and whatever else cyberspace will accept. I am on a crusade, fellow classmates.
Now I have not always been a technie fan. In fact in the past I have been something of a technological Luddite (if you do not know who a Luddite is go to "Wikipedia"). During most of my life I have consciously kept a few too many steps behind the latest technology, at times from a political prospective and at others from a desire not to get too much clutter in my space. Now, however, although cyberspace does not necessarily bring us the golden age of the global community that I have long hankered for, it does permit those of us from the Class of 1964 to take a stroll down memory lane.
I know there is someone out there who, with evil intent in his or her heart, says " Well, why doesn't old Johnson take on this task?" Fair enough. However, as this is a confessional age, I must come clean here. While I appreciate and can certainly use the Internet when the deal goes down and I get into technological trouble or have to upgrade, etc. I must call in my "significant other" to rescues me. When I say, Cindy, the #*& computer just went kaput she comes to the rescue. Moreover, if the truth were known I also still use a CD player when I go for my walks. In the age of the iPod how yesterday, right? I, however, would be more than happy to write a little something for our website. But we need a Webmaster extraordinaire to get us up and running. So, as this is also an age that is addicted to sports metaphors- who will step up to the plate?
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