On the Passing of an Age

There are three quirks that I am known for.

First, I have an unhealthy obsession with the use of commas and semi-colons. Commas are not to be trifled with.

Two, I’m an Internet power-user; I browse with Opera, and see no reason to change.

Finally, I use a trackball, not a mouse.

My love of commas began at an early age, and has never abated. Every comma is sacred. When it doubt, use a comma. When you mean it, use a semi-colon.

I discovered Opera about ten years ago (version 3, I think it was), began using it regularly with version 5, and exclusively with version 7. I’m now on bleeding edge code; this post is being written with the Opera 10 Alpha.

And the trackball? Who can forget classic video games of the 1980s that were played with trackballs? There’s something about being able to spin the ball really fast. I’ve used trackballs for over a decade; I’ve used cheap trackballs (when I started working for EB Games, they sold a really cheap three-button trackball), I’ve used expensive trackballs.

Alas, my current trackball, a Logitech Optical TrackMan, is no more.

The surface had been worn smooth. The ball had been removed so many times to clean the bearings inside. But the buttons themselves had worn out; they had become unresponsive.

I had a mouse as a back-up, but it was a cheap mouse, and it would cut out from time to time.

I’ve been searching for trackballs. I cannot find trackballs. Does no one use trackballs any longer?

Suffice it to say, I now have an inexpensive optical mouse driving my man-machine interface.

My Logitech TrackMan? It deserves a Viking’s funeral. It has been my companion through many adventures — and many battles. When my armies bled on a snowy island waste? The TrackMan was there. When I laid siege to a medieval castle and fought for every square inch of ground for six hours because I wanted a Relic victory? The TrackMan was there. When I wrote “Make-Believe” and “The Spindle of Necessity” and those prank letters? The TrackMan was there.

Farewell, my friend! Farewell, my Trackman!

My computer is a sadder thing tonight.

The TrackMan is no more.