> Ya young'ns and yer e-lectric games! I've heard ya goin' on about 'em, and let me tell ya, ya don't know how good you've got it. Spoilt rotten, that's what I say. You've got yer C-D discs, but we had cartridges. Seven foot tall and ten foot wide, they were, and 'round three hundred pounds! Yer back'd snap lickety-split pluggin' one o' those in. And the games! Why, in my day, we didn't have yer three-di-mensional graphics. We only had *one*. It was a straight line, so thin ya could barely see it! And you'd sit there, and you'd squint so hard at that line that yer eyes'd bleed. And don't think we were in front of one of yer fancy-schmancy tel-e-visions or com-puter mon-i-tors with the reasonable amounts of radiations, neither! If ya played more than five minutes, yer hair'd start fallin' out. More than ten, and ya'd be sterile. And yer brou-ha-ha 'bout "multi-player". Why, if ya wanted to play a game when I was your age, you'd have to be in the basement, alone, with the doors locked and barred from the other side! By the time ya got out, ya didn't recognise yer own parents and ya couldn't carry on a normal conversation with another human bein'. So there ya was, yer back broke, bleedin' out yer eyes, bald as a cue ball, unable to procreate, and a social iso-late, to boot. And do ya know what? We *liked* it! We *loved* it! We'd say "I might be para-lysed, bleedin' from my eye-balls, without the need of a comb, having no chance on passin' down my name, unable to function in so-ciety, and not having any fun, but by the gumption, I'm growin' up *proper*!" It was good 'nough fer us, and dadgummit if it ain't good 'nough fer you, too!

Well, I checked for the signature and there wasn't one, but I still don't think I wrote that.
I think I'll go check the dialectizer and see if Grumpy Old Man is on there. If it's not, there may actually be another one moving in on my territory. Wait! I think I found something! I always spell dad gummit as two words. Any dang fool ought to know that.
Howard