Thursday 3 February 2000

Pic of the day: New stereo.

Bought a new stereo today. Hitachi AX-M7. I wonder what those letters stand for? M7 is one of the more luminous celestial bodies, I think. Anyway, it has a CD player and a minidisc. Also a radio tuner, not that I would have paid for that if I could avoid it. It has a built-in amplifier and detachable (hitachable?) speakers of moderate size. I'm not going to arrange any outdoors flake dances anyway. And it does not have a cassette player. Casettes are sooo second millenium.

Rejoice with me, my friends. For I know that in my Hitachi AX-M7 I have secured for myself a source of joy. And not only the fleeting elation of joy, but the deep enduring satisfaction of lasting happiness. When I henceforth pack my bag at the end of the workday, I know that my Hitachi will be waiting for me at home. No matter how my day has been, my Hitachi will be there for me, to make me smile, to take away my stress and gently lead me into beauty.

Never mind, then, that there goes the spring clothes shopping at the mall. And besides, if worst comes to worst, we have credit cards. We always have credit cards. That way we can ALL be happy ALL the time. And there are more credit cards to be had. I have this phone number somewhere which I can call if I want credit. Is western civilization not great? Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness!

Never mind that I already was happy. Logically, one of two things should happen: If the happiness is cumulative, it should come on top of my existing happiness, making me ecstatically, deliriously happy. Or alternative, it may just be queued up for later use when the happiness for some reason falters. Perhaps I lose my job or friends turn their back on me, which would make me sad. But then I look at my Hitachi AX-M7 and think: "Well, I still have my Hitachi!"

OK, I guess I went a bit over the top there. I hear that subtle irony is not my strongest writing skill. But the fact remains: While money can't buy love, it can land you a pretty good stereo.

And mind you, it was not as if I did this on my own accord. No, fate itself conspired against me. Listen now, and learn how persistent fate can be when it really wants someone to spend money:

Once upon a time, I had a CD player deck for my stereo. (In fact, the stereo consisted of a CD player and an amplifier.) Then a friend of mine borrowed the CD player and some of the CDs, and were not in a position to give me them back. This is quite a while ago.

Now it did not much matter, as I also had this portable DiscMan. But as you know, jogging these around is not too good for their health. The player broke down. Oh well. I still had the CD player in my PC. I could use it, when I did not use any CD-based software. And most CD-based games at least come with their own music, so there was an obvious solution.

Then I switched PCs. Shortly after sending off the old PC, the new one decided not to play music CDs. It still plays CD-based games, including those who have audio tracks, but it only plays those through the games. Put in a music CD, and the program starts, but no sound comes. I still have an even older PC, which takes quite a while to start up, and which hums loudly, and which hangs completely if it reaches the end of the CD, and which has no reset button. So it was a tough choice; but someone had to make it.

So why do I feel like I have to defend myself, to explain to the world and the heaven why I did it? (Well, except that I just told yesterday that I did not have time for any more hobbies, quite the opposite.)