So Charlotte gets me a new iPod Touch for my birthday.  Being only half technology geek, I think it's cool, but Boomers I had no idea.

It's a well-established fact that I like my music.  But c'mon, does anybody really need a device that can hold a bazillion and one songs?  Didn't Congress pass a law making airlines let you off any plane that's on the tarmac longer than three hours? 

Allow me to translate this three-hour timeframe into iPod language.  THREE HOURS.  THAT'S ABOUT 60 SONGS.  Shoot, I carry around that many in my head when I let the voices through.

It's almost like ruling the world without the pesky expense of maintaining a subterranean lair. 

Turns out that this iPod Touch is really, really, cool.  And yes, having a bazillion songs at your disposal is an embarrassment of riches.  But who said that was a crime?  Not Steve Jobs.

Ok, Ok, Ok, I'm already hearing you out there on the internets.  You smug Boomers who already have adapted this technology are saying to yourselves, "Whoa there Bobbo, this IPod Touch has been on the market for a while.  Ain't no thang."

Au contraire Boomers, it is a thang.  Today it's about the coolest thang in my geek gadget arsenal.  Now it's like my Amex.  I don't leave home without it.

Take the other day at the car dealership. 

I'm sitting in the plush waiting area at the Park Place Lexus dealership in Grapevine having Charlotte's car serviced.  This is a place so nice you'd think you were sitting in the lobby of the Fairmont Hotel in downtown Chicago. 

They've got Fox News up and running on the large flat screen plasma.  Individually brewed coffees (no scummy coffee pot for these guys) and about the nicest overstuffed chairs your butt has ever kissed.  It's where I'm going to hang out if I ever run away from home.  It's THAT great.

I whip out my cool iPod Touch and settle in.  Instantly I'm touching the screen and zooming all the way from Springsteen to Van Morrison by way of Tom Petty and Roy Orbison.  I'm absolutely giddy with my power over playlists.  It's almost like ruling the world without the pesky expense of maintaining a subterranean lair.  IT'S THAT GOOD.

Tempus Fugit.

Next thing I know, polite car guy is telling me Charlotte's car is ready, just as B.B. King is wailing "Nobody loves me buy my mother...and she could be jivin' too..." 

Car guy says something inaudible since I've got my ear buds planted deep in my ear canal.

YES? 

Inaudible.

IS MY CAR READY?

Inaudible.

OH, SORRY.  LET ME TURN OFF MY iPOD TOUCH. 

Car guy smiles like he gets that a lot.  I mean there are plenty of Boomer men and women in the waiting area.  The ones who aren't working their Crackberries are playing with their IPhones.  A few fortunate ones like me are blissed out in iPod Touch land.  We'd exchange a nodding glance if they could only HEAR ME.  Needless to say, they CAN'T.

That's OK, I'm thinking if I slip car guy a $20 he'll let me come back here tomorrow.

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