I have an Outlook PST file that I have religiously copied from one computer to the next for more than 15 years. The file is named humour.pst; it hasn’t been used since the year 2000. I decided to have a look through the emails to see if there was anything notable. I found this:
Diana always wanted an expensive car—a status symbol to drive around and be seen in. She scrimps and saves, goes to the BMW dealer, and plops down several years income for a brand new state-of-the-art, computer-enhanced, kick-ass, dream mobile. She’s driving off. Decides she wants some music and searches for the radio.
The dashboard looks like a control panel at NASA. She fiddles with this button, that gizmo… jiggles these and those, but finally gives up. Can’t find the damned thing.
Furious, she races back to the dealership, screams at the salesman and tells him they forgot to install the radio!
He assures her it’s right there in front of her. It’s hooked into the onboard computer. All she has to do is tell it what she wants. He demonstrates: “Classical,” he says.
The car fills with the sounds of Paganini.
“Blues,” she says, and “click” a B.B. King classic plays.
She drives off amazed. “Country,” she says, and “click” a Garth Brooks tune comes on.
“Folk” and “click” Joan Baez sings about the night they drove ol’ Dixie down.
“New Age” and “click” Yanni at the Acropolis snaps on.
She’s so captivated by this new toy that she isn’t paying much attention to the road. A driver runs a light and cuts her off.
“Asshole!!!” she screams.
“Click”… “Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States.”