Surely a .50-caliber revolver promised as a “hunting handgun for any game walking” could take care of that screwed up Fujitsu tablet PC I have to use that often acts as if it is on a continual fortified wine bender.

I even started out using Apple’s Macs.

But I don’t have an iPod. Maybe that’s why I don’t get the significance of the iPad.

I do understand what the new tablet does and it’s relatively cheap price starting at $499 instead of the expected $1,000. It apparently combines the technology and operation of Apple’s iPod, computers, e-book readers and cell phones. Smart, functional, relatively inexpensive and delivered by a genius of a man who survived liver cancer after getting a transplant. It’s a hell of a story, no doubt.

What it isn’t, is the Second Coming of the Almighty. The headline on Huffington Post this afternoon took up half of my laptop screen.

Maybe my lack of enthusiasm stems from becoming computer literate only in my 30s and 40s. Or, as I said, maybe it’s because I don’t have an iPod. Some pundits remarked that they believed the iPad announcement would overshadow President Obama’s first State of the Union address this evening. Go figure that one.

Now if someone came up with a computer that was really functional it would be a different story. I’m talking an android-in-a-box. A computer that would make meals or snacks for you that were both delicious and perfectly healthy according to your dietary and taste bud needs. If it mixed your adult beverages just to your specifications. If it was a computer that could pull up the five-shot .500-magnum and do a Dirty Harry imitation in the event unwelcome intruders were in your abode. If a computer was introduced that was just completely out of this world in its functions, would heal the sick, feed the starving, stop global warming and save the whales, then yeah, 72-point headlines and perhaps an extra edition if newspapers are still around.

But the iPad, the little-bitty tablet PC that mystery and hype has even me talking about it, I just don’t understand the hub, Bub.

The usual Wal-Mart self-scan problems reared their ugly head. I couldn’t get items to scan, no way, no how. I tried entering the bar code and it failed to register the item each time. The machine told me to take the item out of the bag and put it on the scanner. I called the self-scan assistance person about four times.

“I hate you, you @#&%*&#&%@!!”

I see more problems with Wal-Mart self-scan machines than at any other retailer that uses them. I don’t know what causes the problems. It seems like — for one thing — the little glass cover over the scanner usually looks smudged and smeared, as if it needs cleaning. Whether that causes items not to register, I don’t know because I am not technically savvy about those machines or almost any other type of machinery.

But I do know I experience problems practically every time I use Wal-Mart’s self-scan. I also hear others complain. Go to “Google” and type in “Wal-Mart” “self-scan checkout” and see what kind of complaints you will see.

Why not go to a regular cashier and check out? Why it is for the exact reason I use self-scan machines in the first place. Usually there are long lines. If the cashier needs assistance with an item there is no telling how long it will take him or her to get it. If there is a computer problem of any kind with the register, it is like a Level I national emergency. And there are individual complaints that make me veer toward the U-Scan rather than the cashier.

Wal-Mart should, by now, realize their self-scan machines are for the most part, junk. The company should do something about it. Because one of these days, sure as shootin’, someone who already has had the Mother of all bad days is going to try to check out at the Wal-Mart self-scan and encounter major problems that make him (probably but could be her) berserk and he is going to take a hammer or shovel or some tool he was about to purchase and start walloping the machine until it turns into something unrecognizable. The shopper will, of course, be arrested and taken to jail.

Such incidents ultimately wind up on the news and one has to think Wal-Mart is going to end up the bad guy with such an incident. That can’t be good, unless Wal-Mart thinks any publicity is good publicity. Personally, I don’t think a company that has become as huge as it is did so by employing such a philosophy. I could be wrong, but I don’t think so.

Every year or so some tech company comes up with an improved version of this or that. Look at Microsoft. You got your Windows, Windows 2000, Windows XP, Windows Vista, Windows to the World, Dirty Windows and Closed Windows.

But something as simple as Yahoo Mail. It’s been the same for thousands of years in Internet time. Now they are getting around to improving it, to change it. And wouldn’t you know that change has to take place at precisely the time you most need that little piece of technological wizardry to flawlessly perform the mission that it has done so well for so long? The problem is that you have to take time now to learn, or retrain, as to how it functions.

Maybe someone will come up with a better version of time. That’s it: Time 2.0. It sounds downright techie.

Anyway, that’s the kind of neighborhood I live in but this store is actually down the road a ways.

My guess is that the clerk is from one of those ‘stan’ countries. He has a Bluetooth stuck in his ear that he talks from every waking minute of the day.

The store has an ice dispenser where you can get a ginormous cup of ice for 50 cents. There is no carbonated soft drink machine in the place. A little light bulb goes off in my head. They want you to buy an energy drink, or soft drink or bottle of water marked up about 20 cents more than at Valero or 7–11.

I stopped in to buy gas but I also needed hydration, so I got the Gnormous Ice (GI) and filled it up with water from a sink.

The clerk looked at me like I just launched a Hellfire from a Predator at his ’04 Camry.

“You got that water from the sink?” he asked.

“That’s where I get it at home.” I said.

I thought about lecturing him about how many bottled water bottles you see saying: “Source: Houston Municipal Water System.” or something like that. I realized that from where the water came and my well-being had nothing to do with “Stan’s” query.

Speaking of Bluetooths, or money-grubbing idiots, I was thinking of the encounter with the lady at the Radio Hut the other day. Radio Hut. Hut? Like a shack? Get it?

An attorney was supposed to call me last week for an affidavit as a witness in a labor dispute. I only have a cell phone and didn’t believe I had a headphone set. I figured I might need one because the lawyer said the process would probably take an hour.

I went into Radio Hut and asked the woman behind the counter about a headset for my phone. She immediately took me to the Bluetooth sets. She said every manufacturer is going to Bluetooth. She looked at my phone. She said there wasn’t even a place to plug in a headset there.

All the Bluetooth stuff was from $35 and above at Radio Shack Hut.

EEK EEK ALERT: DOES THIS SEEM TO BE MISSING SOMETHING? WELL, IF IT DOES IT IS? WHAT HAPPENED TO THE REST OF IT?

So anyway, I go to my truck and — to make a long story short — find the headphone set. Bluetooth this.

It seems like someone is always out there trying to scam you. That’s how you get rich, I guess. Buy ice. Buy Bluetooth. I think maybe some capitalistic piggie must have stolen the bottom of this is why it stopped at the Bluetooths for $35-plus. But oh well.

And I swear, the rest of what I had written was pretty good too. Maybe I can buy back what’s missing from my post. I’m sure it would cost me more than a GI. But probably not much more than a Bluetooth.

 A product of a couple of middle-aged college friends on a weekend, one in Japan one in Beaumont, Texas. Much zany fun.

 Just a short thought. If I had more time today I would look up the origin of the saying: “He/she woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

 I haven’t ever figured this one out though having gone through relationships which require 1) a bed and 2) a side of a bed, or if it is a really comfortable relationship 3) a bed, a side of a bed and a side of fries, I know what it means to wake up on the wrong side of the bed. It means a lot of unpleasantness.

 This morning I didn’t wake up on the wrong side of the bed exactly. I sleep by myself so the only problem with waking up on the wrong side of the bed is having to decide whether I want to roll back over to get up and go to the bathroom or get up and walk around the bed to go to the bathroom. Because that’s usually what I do when I wake up. I know, I know, too much information.

 This morning I woke up irritated and it wouldn’t matter what side of the bed from which I exited the bed.

 About 5 a.m. I woke up and couldn’t sleep. Probably some time about 6:45 a.m. I drifted off into light slumber when all of a sudden, that phone ring from my T-Mobile — you know that sweet, sickening, bell-like tune, that makes you want to do a Quasimodo – sang out: “De De De De De, De De De De De, Come answer me. F**k you let me be.”

 So I get up. I look at the screen and see no familiar name but I see familiar numbers, which are ones emanating from my part-time job’s home office in Dallas. I answer the phone and it goes: “Screecccchhhh, Squaaaaaannkkk, Deetleleteletlee.” I think: “Why is my office sending my cell phone a fax at 6:57 a.m.?” Actually, the better question is why is my office sending my cell phone a fax at all? I don’t have a fax at home.

 I tried to call my boss’ number. His voice mail said it was Friday and he was in the office. The last part might be true, but I know good and well today is Monday. I try calling his boss. She didn’t say what day it was on her voice mail but she was on voice mail, so… I hung up.

 I got back in bed and “De de de de de De de de de de.” And I thrust my right thumb harshly down upon the little red telephone with the sign of the beast, or whatever that is, above it.

 Back to bed where I had decided to alarm myself at 8:30 instead of 8. If I am a little late to my office, it’s the main office’s fault for faxing my cell phone. I fall asleep about 8:10 and my dying-cow alarm knocks me out of bed, readying me to either birth or bury whatever calf that might be on hand. Thank goodness, like always at least not for some 25 years, no cows.

 Not long after arriving at work our monthly, regional teleconference began. At the end where Q & A are bandied about, I asked my boss who or why tried to fax my cell phone. He said we would talk about it after the conference. It turned out to be no big deal. The main office was trying to fax my colleague who works out of her home. The unanticipated rings really didn’t aggravate me. I  guess maybe if the mistake had been made by someone I despised for some reason that ticked me off I would have been really pissed.

 But there was no one to really get angry with so I am instead just left a little tired after the whole ordeal. I can’t help but wonder what the reaction would have been with a bed-partner? Sheesh. Recalling some of the femme fireballs who at one time staked their claim to a side of my bed, chances are the situation would not have been as mellow as I now feel looking back on the episode.

 Maybe that whole “waking up on the wrong side of the bed” relates to sleeping with someone, as in a relationship. I got to look that whole thing up as it will nag at me like an old girlfriend. But I think I should first take a nap.

Oh and PS, Newton whipped/spanked/beat (sounding a little too S & M here?) Corrigan-Camden Friday night by a score of 40–21

Suddenly, I have more faith than ever in car dealers.

 A new law will take effect on Sept. 1 in Texas — on a local-option basis — which bans the use of cell phones in school zones. By local-option, I mean that the governing jurisdiction of where the school is located has to first approve it. If it is in a city, the city must approve it and county commissioners must give their approval if it is in an unincorporated area.

 I suppose the Texas Legislature and Gov. Good Hair Perry, in their infinite wisdom, decided they didn’t want to get get stuck as being the ones who outlawed using a cell altogether while driving. That is, no matter how many people get killed because of people yakking on their phones and not watching what they are doing.

 One thought has piqued my curiosity. Since Mothers Against Drunk Driving is largely responsible for one no longer even feeling they can drink one beer and drive without worrying about a DUI charge, I wonder their thoughts on cell use and driving?

 Admittedly, I have not had a chance to do extensive research but in a quick search of the MADD Web page all I could find was a resolution supporting the use of cell phones in vehicles for reporting drunk drivers. I wonder where they really stand?

 Although the federal highway safety agency tried to sit on studies showing even hands-free use of cell phones is deadly, other studies show those talking on the phone are four times as likely to crash and are as likely to wreck as drivers with a blood-alcohol content of .08.

 I admit that I sometimes use my phone while driving. It is a habit that I am trying to break just as seeing — when I was as a firefighter — numerous folks dead who didn’t wear seatbelts got me in the habit of wearing one. Sad to admit, I once used to drink and drive. Hell, just about every Texan who both drank and who drived cherished the long stretch when the state had no open container law or at least one that had no teeth. Times have changed now. You can get ticketed for an open container and can be arrested for DUI for almost having alcohol on your breath. Don’t get me started on those who can serve and die for their country unable to get a drink because they aren’t 21!

 And so it goes. My libertarian friends don’t like the idea of government playing nanny, and I don’t like it a whole lot either. But safety aside, a lot of practical utility comes from laws like mandating seat belts, DUI and banning cell phones. This includes money spent on insurance premiums, taxes we pay to support hospitals, worker productivity (having your worker show up instead of he or she being in jail, the hospital or the morgue), to list a few.

 So, I imagine one day completely giving up talking on a cell and driving. Unlike many people I see every day, I don’t stay on the phone from the time I get in my auto until I disembark, and then some.

 I can live without driving and cell chatting; perhaps even live because I am not driving and talking on the phone.

“Obviously we need to find right balance between security and transparency. We are working on that. But am I still going to tweet? You bet.”

RHIP ?(Rank hath its privileges). YBYA (You bet your ass).

I suppose that when one sees he or she is spending more time on the phone with people from the wireless Internet provider and/or the cell phone company, then perhaps the deal that has been chosen isn’t working out so well. Unfortunately for me, it doesn’t look like I have a choice. Verizon has the best wireless Internet service in my area.

When that service is working properly it is super and with excellent speeds. The problem is consistency. I suppose I shouldn’t get bent out of shape because my Internet fails right in the middle of doing something important or time-sensitive. My wireless is still 10 times better than what I have to put up with using dial-up for my government computer.

Then again, I don’t have to pay a monthly charge for my dial-up service which powers my part-time job’s equipment online.

This all makes me wonder if cell and wireless Internet service will someday be somewhere next to flawless? With com providers, such as Verizon, trimming more and more workers form its rolls it certainly seems that is a dream of something far, far into the future.

I have about 15 different passwords for work-related sites, or should I say, my part-time work-related sites. Then I  probably have another 25 or 30 more passwords for personal use or for my other line of work.

Now, I must admit that contrary to all the warnings, I do sometimes use the same passwords to access different pages. I am warned over and over not to do that. But have mercy on a poor soul as me who does good to remember the grocery list.

I would almost be willing to bet that my number of passwords are even lower than many other computer users. But there are still too many passwords that fly out in front of me, leaving me dazed and confused.

Perhaps someone out there in the computersphere is working  on a way to minimize passwords. I mean, some sites can remember your password and login name. And then some sites say they can but don’t really do it, like my Verizon Wireless account. Maybe we should get Sally Struthers to do a TV commercial asking for bucks for developing a password-free world like she did seeking help for all those impoverished foreign children.

Please we need to limit passwords before people go stark raving mad. Time is running out!