Things

I. Golf

I approve of golf. Of pouring cash into titanium drivers and putters and woods. I'm not a man who plays golf. The last time I played anything like it I was soundly thrashed by a group of fifth graders in miniature golf three years ago. But then I am also a man who doesn't ski, surf, waltz or tango. I've just never availed myself of the opportunity.

I long for the focus, the exacting mechanics of the swing, the cozy, collegial, double-knit Republicanism of the country club. No gate-crashing persons of color, demanding activists from the lower classes or women to spoil one's Eisenhowerist reverie.

II. Computers

Available for tuppence, used, on E-Bay or Craigslist. But calls the siren song of the new. The box, the exactitude of the form-fit styrofoam, the fresh black plastic housing with its pleasingly toxic degassing. The warranty, so evocative of a mother's embrace. Booting up for the first time -- the tang of sexual initiation!

I understand those things. I have been there.