So I have a problem. One that requires more than a little blue pill to resolve.
Oh, if only a pill could solve this problem!
Or, for that matter, even a suppository.
I am deeply saddened to report that when it gets dark, and I mean very, very dark, I can’t see.
This is particularly disturbing because I do my best work at night. When it’s, you know, dark.
Yes, when my body most desperately needs to rest and rejuvenate itself, my brain is all, “Hold my beer.”
But in a good, non-alcoholic, non-electoral sort of way.
As you might be starting to suspect, I wrote this entry during the day. But I had no choice, given I can’t see at night.
You see, since everyone else in my household have brains that listen to their bodies, they’re all asleep at night.
Or should be. Get back to bed right now, Kiddo!
Sorry about that. Because of this (nearly) mass slumber, I can’t just flip on all the lights, crank up the volume on my .mod files, and take care of business.
Oh no. Everyone else in my household gets cranky when I turn the productivity up to 11 past, well, eleven. Suddenly the Missus and the one kiddo who actually does sleep at night are making snide remarks about needing rest and don’t I have work in the morning and look you’re making the dogs bark and oh my gawd what is that racket you are listening to it should be illegal to distribute it!
(My hearing is fine. Spider by They Might Be Giants is meant to be listened to loud.)
In order to appease the Missus, I turn everything off, go to bed, and when dawn’s surly light finally returns, make yet another medical appointment.
My doctor always sort of wilts and sighs when he walks into the exam room and sees me, like a blow-up punching bag suddenly deflating after one punch too many, then mutters “Oh no, not again.”
While most people would see this reaction and think, “Uh oh, I must be really sick!” I’m not worried. I’ve been here before. Seen the doc about this many times. And after the poorly hidden but inevitable eye roll, he always tells me the same thing:
“Still not getting more exercise? I really think you should focus more on that. Not being able to see in the dark? That’s nothing to worry about. You’re just getting old. Try turning on the lights.”
I am not getting old!
And turn on the lights?? Did he not read the above paragraph about other people in the house wanting it dark so they can sleep?
Since modern medical science has cast me aside despite my numerous co-pays, I was forced to do my own research.
My own experiments.
And I figured it out.
(So start writing up those Nobel Prize nominations, in case they won’t accept my self-nomination.)
I’m not getting older. Nope.
The world…is getting darker.
Hear me out. Once you see the evidence you will drop your jaws in amazement.
(Or disbelief. But if you stay silent, I can still imagine it’s amazement. So hush.)
Here’s a modern-day keyboard. Notice anything about it, aside from the dirt?

Who uses this? Members of the band Disaster Area?
That’s right. It’s super dark.
Here’s what it looks like at night with all the lights in the house in the mandated OFF position:

The real reason schools started mandating touch typing classes…
Now you can see my problem (or more specifically, can’t).
And don’t tell me to get a back-lit keyboard! I’ve tried that! They require you to press a key combo to turn on the back-lighting.
Can you see any of the keys in the dark on the above keyboard? Can you? Then how the hell am I supposed to see them, hmm?
Think about it. Their design solution when you can’t see the keyboard is to require you to hit specific keys on the keyboard so you can see the keys. On the keyboard! It’s Kafkaesque!
They’ll be the first ones up against the wall when the revolution comes, let me tell you!
But, I perceive you mumbling as you nervously edge away, what do keyboards have to do with my supposition that the world is getting darker?
Well, aside from black reflecting back less light into the environment (ergo, making the surrounding environment darker), we once had, long ago, better keyboards.
And by better I don’t mean clickier (though that was better too). I mean beige:

If my sunglasses were handy, I’d put them on before using this keyboard
See what this pinnacle of keyboard engineering looks like in normal lighting? Compare that to yet another modern keyboard (this time grey):

“We think beige is too bright. Waa waa. If black is too dark, how about we meet in the middle and try gray?” No. Just no.
But check it out what happened when I photographed my, if the Keyboard Industrial Complex PR hacks are to be believed, “old, tired, and passé” vintage keyboard in the dark.
WTFtl;dr! It actually got brighter:

CAPS LOCK on because DAMN IT, YES, I’M EXCITED ABOUT THIS KEYBOARD! AND NO COLLUSION! TOTALLY NO COLLUSION! COVFEFE!
Beige is a color I can type on in the dark. Because with beige, the cold encroachment of darkness is stopped in its sneaky, disabling tracks. I can look down and see the damn keys I need to press and then press them.
Presto! No back-light, front-light, or side-light required.
And it’s not just the keyboard. Tell me, how am I going to find that black CD eject button, cleverly placed, of course, right next to the black power button, on this particular, recently manufactured computer?

Hell, in this photo I have a spotlight on the chassis and I’m using a flash, and you still can’t see anything (except the dust bunny residue)!
But take away the above modern, fancy-pants, 1080p, USB 3.0, multi-core and multi-threaded (guess the color of the thread – hint: it’s BLACK) super computer and replace it with a late-80s, early-90s computer, and what do you get?
You get this, a right proper computing machine:

The IBM “Just Try And Make The Room This Is In Dark” PS/2 P70. They don’t build ’em like this any more. Can’t afford to. Too much lead needed for the chassis.
That’s right. I closed the curtains, turned off the lights, and then tented the entire house (due to termites) before taking this picture, and it still looks like I’m standing outside on a bright summer day.
That’s how much frickin’ light beige computers give off!
Now it might be the termiticide talking, but I think I’d be able to use my computer at night just fine…if it were made out of beige. But sadly, as amazing as the above computer is, it does lack one feature deemed unnecessary in the 1980s and 1990s:
WiFi.
Do you have tales of horror trying to use an albedo-challenged computer in the wee hours? Share them in the comments so we can commiserate together and maybe put together a kickstarter to make a modern beige computer!
(Please comment. The Missus thinks I’m nuts and I need you to help me prove her wrong.)
Spread the word! Can't stop the signal!
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Your Significant Other Will Dump You If You Order The Veal And These Other Items
If you don’t remember the origin of this series (or, more likely, you’ve just stumbled upon this posting in your quest for pictures of naive boy scouts and have no idea what I’m on about), you can catch up here with Part I, here with Part II, here with Part III, here with Part IV, and here with Part V. Just don’t expect reading those entries to help any of this make sense and you’ll be fine. The rules are simple: using the writing prompt book Write the Story, include the ten provided words (underlined in this text) in a story using the given title. Failure to do so results in finding yourself on stage, in front of an audience of your parents and peers, wearing nothing but a speedo and a cape that inexplicably has the word “PHOTOGRAPHER” emblazoned across it.
A Lunch Date Gone Wrong
Is it hot in here, or is it just me? Things were going so well, the relationship seemed back on track. And then…the carnival came back to town.
She started showing up late for dates, or putting them off. Without explanation.
I admit it. I got jealous. I began to assume the worst: she was going to leave me for that cult. When we started dating again, I made a promise to myself. OK, two promises:
I would get all the facts instead of jumping to conclusions.
I would never again roller skate nude under the full moon.
Without using mosquito repellent. You can only draw blood from scratching bug bites too hard so many times before you swear that oath.
So here we are, our brunch date now a lunch date due to her inexplicable tardiness, having a ‘discussion’ over a mango salad about her career, her needs, her hopes and desires. And how they don’t include assuming the traditional housewife role, or monogamy, or, worst of all, punctuality.
My sweet tea couldn’t taste more bitter. I struggle to hold back, to refrain from pitting my rapid-fire questions against her inconsistent logic. She was never late before the carnival returned. She never came over to my place smelling like pipe tobacco and my ex-wife’s favorite perfume before the carnival came to town. We never talked about marriage in the days preceding the cultists’ return.
So why now?
But her apparent calm and detachment only served to fuel my fears that she had tired of me and was returning to her old ways. Leaving me alone, divorced with no path back to my ex, doomed to online dating and online / offline rejection.
So of course I exploded, all of my fears and insecurities a festering eruption that poisoned the conversation, the meal, the entire ambiance of the restaurant. And as she stormed off, her sweet tea just as bitter now as mine but dripping from my face and hair, I had to wonder if this had been her intention all along.
Spread the word! Can't stop the signal!
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Posted by ianmdudley on 20 November 2018 in Angst, Life, Writing, writing prompts
Tags: Am I mistaken or are the tags longer than the actual post this time around? If only I could say that was a first..., assume, balancing your life and your better half's career, career, carnival, cult, duogamy - sounds like it involves dogs so no thank you, eruption, fire, full moon, getting dumped, getting dumped over (an expensive) dinner is another recurring theme in my (past I hope!) life, housewife, I have never been late to a date where I was dumped. I suppose that's worth something. Right?, I lost so many girlfriends to cults that I am forced to wonder if possibly it wasn't the cults but something to do with me., I've been dumped over more salads than I care to (or can) remember. It's why I'm so averse to vinaigrette salad dressings., Is your girlfriend planning to kill you? Probably. You jerk., Is your significant other late because they've been kidnapped/in a car accident/due to a shopping mishap or because they're plotting to kill you? Hope for the best but plan for the worst..., losing your appetite due to being dumped while eating, monogamy, nurse, People never seem to fall into a cult of science...anymore., pipe smoke and your ex-wife's perfume - a devastating combination, promise, public breakup, public humiliation, public shame, punctuality is a virtue of the single it turns out, Riding the Deet train to Bugsville, Roller blading in the nude is an entirely different story. You can roller blade fast enough that the mosquitoes can't keep up., roller skate, salad, sweet, sweet tea as a repellent of bugs (and exes), The carnival coming back to town preceded an uncomfortably large number of the bad events in my life., Those of you who come here because of the childhood Boy Scout picture seriously need to seek therapy and / or stop using the internet., To be completely honest this title hit too close to home as I've never had a lunch date NOT go wrong, trigonogamy - only sleeping with people who fully understand trigonometry?, Turns out there IS a character limit to these tags. Rats., When my writing prompt posts get a hit I fear people found it by accident and stop reading a sentence in. If you read all of it please comment so I know it was just interesting enough to finish., writing prompts