A modern "dweeb" as we're called is hip to Carl Jung and synchronicity, so I'm allowed to bring it up, in character, when I recount how me n Patrick were walking about, checking out the newly remodeled Belmont Branch library, and yakking about typewriters and keyboards and QWERTY versus other layouts, when then, my story goes, the very next morning, my QWERTY keyboard (links to gamer tests) went crazy, as has never happened before (with no precipitating events that I could fathom).
Off-and-on didn't solve it.
The Caps Lock key now rotated through the keyboard light colors. Backspace-delete added ASCII patterns to the right. Like I said, crazy. The "show keyboard" key still worked and I'd pick out a message with my mouse on screen. Voice woulda worked. Patrick and I had talked about that too: voice-controlled text creation.
So yeah, I ordered a new one, through Amazon, which came within hours.
I could track the delivery vehicle in real time, like it was an Uber. Where it was in the world (the car) was my business until the replacement keyboard showed up.
I was there waiting, as I knew exactly what was happening, down to a picture of my driver.
Then it got even more dweebie: upon opening the package I realized I'd miss-assumed about its size; it was for a smaller iPad, not my 12.9 inch 5th generation model. Dang!
The new keyboard worked, which proved which device was at fault (not the iPad). I could prop the iPad up in the old case and type to it from the new one, cordlessly, cuz BlueTooth is like that. Or I could loosely stand the iPad vertically in this over-small shell. Dweeby! Like taping together eyeglasses across the bridge of one's nose.
Should I keep it in inventory and plan to get a smaller iPad?
Should it be a gift?
Who do I know that needs this size case? No one, off hand.
So: the middle class booji thing to do was return it, free of charge, having the website spit out a printable UPS return label. I used a different computer for all this, the one in the outstairs office.
I hadn't disturbed the contents nor lost any inclusions (padding, power cord), so it was a cinch to repackage the case and send it back from a nearby location I could walk to, that UPS Store next to that New Seasons. I'll likely go by it again later today, but not stopping, on a 14 bus.
The replacement keyboard n case should come tomorrow, this time the right size.
Going through all this, I'm thinking back to one of my YouTubes wherein I paraphrase Richard Rorty, one of my teachers at Princeton, a leftist, but in favor of middle class living standards as the Bell Curve average (somewhat by definition) without needing gross outliers in either direction. No K-shaped economy. No two humps.
Uber poor and uber rich are less important to sustain than one or two standard deviations around the middle, which measures physical circumstances, such as access to food-water, travel-shelter, entertainment-education.
One's psychological well-being deserves its own probability curves, which has different constraints than the physical plane (that's speaking more from a data science angle than from some idealist metaphysics). I'm not saying the M and P planes (U=MP) are unconnected; clearly architecture and the human psyche are intimately conjoined. It wasn't called Globe Theater for no reason.
We're not talking about malign neglecting of the uber poor. but rather about sustaining a healthy median not dependent on uber-exploitation and so-called dead-end lifestyles.
A lot of "dirty jobs" give bragging rights (think military) not to mention useful skills, such as driving in traffic without going crazy (a lotta dweebs listen to the radio then, me included).
Cascadian Pragmatism aims to offer PhDs in global trucking, which doesn't preclude having favorite and/or native-familiar locales, as most of us do and even more of us may in the future.
I admit a part of me is playing at being Bill Bixby in My Favorite Martian, while another part of me plays the Martian, or some other booji-compatible (sympatico) ET. A nod to Mork n Mindy.
