Featherbedding

I am writing by means of a gadget I can hold in the palm of my hand which contains an extensive library of books and music and also will enable me to locate myself on the earth and navigate upon that sphere, as well as consult the web while entertained by a sound track of my choosing. Among many other tasks, it also will send and receive voice calls.

Now, I am a conventional sort, possessed of great inertia, who has spent plenty of times in libraries in his time. However, I am flat unable to defend further the practice of demanding public funds, in these hard economic times, be diverted into those several museums dedicated to a technology fully implemented in the sixteenth century. 

I refer to libraries, which, in this day and age, should refer us all back to those shilling days of yesteryear, when the railroad engines were converted from steam to diesel, and yet for a time were retained members of those crew whose sole job it was to stoke a fire which was no more.




Sent from my iPhone