My iPod has changed my life. Quite the heavy claim, I know, but it’s true. Why else would I have already gone through four in as many years? Why else would I offer a moment of silence every time I pass that certain stretch of I-80 East where my third iPod, Kilretta, fell from the top of my car to an untimely death, my soul screaming in torment as I watched passing 18 wheelers crush her to pieces? Why else would I have recruited a coworker’s psychic friend to achieve astral projection to try and locate my first iPod, Kilroy, when he came up missing? I’ll tell you how my iPods have changed my life. They have given me more control over what goes into my ears and eyes. When in my car, I listen only to music that I have chosen for me. No used car commercials. No morning DJ’s poring over what the famous people are eating for breakfast these days. No glimpses into the gaping jaws of hell caused by inadvertently hearing six seconds of a country music song while flipping through the stations. No correspondents broadcasting live from a Big Mouth Wireless, pretending they are impressed with the specials on Bluetooth peripherals you can hear about if you “swing on by” to pick up a free KUPI bumper sticker. Instead, I experience my music. My media. Tom Petty and The Cars. Alison Krauss and Cocteau Twins. Episodes of Monk and Jane Austen audio books.
If you ever hear someone like me gushing about their iPod, please don’t judge them. Congratulate them. Be happy for them. And look into getting one yourself. We could all do with a life-changing device now and then.
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