Copyright 1996(c)
An Editorial Opinion

                            TOY STORY
                         By Del Freeman

     The world continues to improve the toys we buy.
     We have "safety features" for our automobiles so that when we
take several thousand pounds of what my grandfather called guided
missiles and run them into one another, if the crash doesn't kill
us, the air bag will. Air bags are relatively new toys and that's
called progress.
     We fax our lunch orders and laundry lists, and e-mail
reminders to ourselves at our web sites. H. G. Wells was right,
huh? If a Social Security number, Driver's License number, Voter's
registration and boo-jillion credit card numbers weren't enough,
here, have a web site address. They will know you by your I.D.
numbers, O-yea, O-yea! 
     And it's because the toys we buy are constantly improved.
     I don't see anything wrong with that. I think everybody ought
to buy whatever toys they want to play with. I'm just reserving my
right to decide which ones are for me. Slavery is not for me --
neither to man nor telephone. Call me a control freak. I like to
decide how free my free time is. 
     Our briefcases and pocketbooks ring or buzz or vibrate with
messages from people who SIMPLY CANNOT WAIT. I looked at those
people squiggling around funny and reaching for their beepers and
I just always figured they were sexual deviates seeking
incomprehensible satisfactions. Turns out, they were being paged.
     I suspect I am not designed for this world and the ever-
climbing stock market. I still think a car's primary function
should be to transport me from spot to spot. Relative comfort in
transport is nice, but not mandatory. The focus here is transport.
I glimpsed the interior of a limo at a home show and my heart
almost stopped. 
     I don't want anything on me to beep, buzz or vibrate, and I
don't want to fax or be faxed. Nothing is that freakin' important.
Nothing.
     So, I'm living in this fax-me phase of history where
everybody's toys keep multiplying and getting better and bigger,
and I'm still using toys that don't require batteries. I figure my
color tv is showing the same picture as Bill Gates' or the
Donald's, only smaller.  
     I have no problem with that. I am as seasonably cool or warm
and well-fed in my trailer as Bill on his island and Donald in his
palace. I have a lot less upkeep, too. I don't much care what the
neighbors do or say or think so long as they keep it to themselves.
     People tend to think I've lost the cutting edge of things, and
I have to admit they are right. I liked it when I listened to the
radio and Thanksgiving was not merely a blinking yellow light on
the way to Christmas. I enjoyed thought.
     If I were coming back in an era of time, I'd come back in the
20's. I'd jitterbug and drink bathtub gin, and then I'd write Gone
With the Wind, first.

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