Posted by Bob301 at dialup-171.75.6.71.dial1.phoenix1.level3.net on June 03, 2003 at 05:00:02:
OK, so this is waaaay off topic, but I am pretty excited. I lost my last trackball to static electricity, and I have been using a crappy, old, wheel-less roll-ball mouse for almost a year.
So, picture this:
Arizona summer day, about 3 PM. It's 97 degrees out (this is Flagstaff, in the mountains). You are walking up stairs. As you enter the bedroom, you place your things onto the floor. You see your screen-saver is on, and remember you need to check your e-mail. You take off your shoes, and walk over to the computer. You reach for the trackball with your hand, pulling out the desk chair with your other hand. As you sit, your hand touches the trackball. The largest static-spark EVER jumps from your hand, and to the ball. The screen-saver deactivates, but that is the last signal sent from the trackball to your computer. It's now functionally dead. You move the ball, scroll the wheel, and frantically push buttons; alas, it is to no avail. This piece of silicon, aluminum and plastic, which has served you so well over the past two years, now sits lifeless and dejected on your desk. Resignedly, you get up and walk to the closet. In a large tin can, you find a mouse buried under several feet of miscellaneous connectors, cables, PCI cards, ISA cards, PC-Cards, and dozens of case screws. You pull out the mouse, a relic of your 486-days. You pace back to the computer slowly, to draw out the last remaining seconds until you have to actually unplug the deceased trackball, and replace it, shamefully, with a 7-year-old mouse instead of the new, shiny, extra-functional upgrade it deserves. You shut down Windows, pull out the case, and unplug that PS/2 connector with a sigh. You can almost hear the pitiful dying gasp of the trackball. As you plug in the old mouse, you can feel the silicone shudder as it accepts an outdated, obsolete input device. You slowly wind the cord around the trackball, promising it you will buy a decent replacement next paycheck; perhaps instead, you vow to one day own a soldering iron and volt-meter, the tools you will use to resurrect your trackball and restore it to its glory days. Weeks pass, then months. Each day, your will to buy a new trackball diminishes, as you accept your fate: to forever be bound by two buttons and a roll ball. You stop playing Wolfenstein, try not to browse pages that have scroll-bars, and keep q-tips and alcohol nearby for emergency cleaning. One day, out of nowhere, your resolve returns. Hope springs from an unexpected paycheck, and you head to Office Max with a dream and a Visa card. You head to the accessories isle, and there it sits: an ergonomic, feature-rich trackball, shiny and looking for a good home, and with a rebate to boot. You giddily hand your card to the check-out girl, anticipating the near future, when Nazis are once again in your computer-generated sights, and you can browse without hesitation even the longest of WWWBoards. The software installation goes smoothly, the mouse returns to it's tin can in the closet, and your trackball awaits, glistening and proud, on your desktop. Now, start computing.....yeah.