02 July 2005

Continuing towards the abolition of silence…


Finally got myself an iPod. Instant gratification.

I have been looking for an iPod since last Christmas. (I knew my family wasn’t getting me one for Christmas; they tend to be cheap about such things.) I’ve mainly been poking around eBay for one.

Shopping on eBay is an interesting experience. There’s the odd psychological reaction to “winning” (though you’ve won nothing other than the right to buy something); there’s the huge number of companies that are selling new stuff under the guise of “deals” while they’re actually gouging you through shipping (imagine a $10 cable that’s available for $4, but with shipping it totals $12—to ship a 5-ounce cable); there’s the foreign companies posing as domestic ones (but you wouldn’t know it unless you noticed the “Shipped from Hong Kong” in tiny print somewhere on the page); and there’s the fact that no sellers give positive feedback until you’ve sent your own positive feedback.

Typically I’d find iPod minis—the little 5GB versions—for $200, marked down from the usual $250; but after shipping they’d be $260, and for that $60 shipping fee you’d get a box full of air with an iPod in it; shipping actually cost $5, so they’ve sold you an iPod for $5 above retail. Bastards! I wasn’t falling for that scam, so I kept waiting… and waiting and waiting. Christmas came and went.

It wasn’t until last week that I found something… an older model 15GB iPod that, after shipping, was $103. Score! So I got it Saturday, and spent that evening and this morning loading 2,912 songs into it. It’s still not yet half full, but I have virtually every CD I own in it. It’s a beautiful thing.

Mom didn’t get it. “I don’t listen to that much music,” she pointed out.

“Well, you wouldn’t if you’re only listening to one CD at a time,” I explained. “If they were all ripped to your computer, you could call up any song you wanted whenever you wanted. If you put them in an iPod you wouldn’t need to be near your computer. Instant gratification.”

“Well, it’s your toy,” she shrugged.

Damn right it is.