My communication systems have arrived in the 21st century. After years of a 56K modem that rarely got better than 33.2K, I'm dabbling around high-speed Internet via a Droid 2 smartphone for a dumboperator. Yes, I'm pulling the plug on the landline and the eight energy vampire phones scattered around the house. Yes, I'm pulling the plug on the dial-up connection. Yes, I'm listening to Cat Stevens' Angelsea over RadioIO 70s Rock with 3bars. Also, goodbye to the digital rabbit ears and the four channels I get for DirecTV and 150 channels, of which I will watch about six. Yep, straight from the 19th century to the 21st century. Now, if only I can figure out how to answer the damn smartphone. Missed my first three calls. Too many features. Too many apps. And what the heck is a DLNA? I feel a short story coming on about a man so intimidated by the new technology, that he hides in a shack in Montana (or somewhere out west) and threatens to bring down society with a secret stealth weapon. Ah, the irony. Rebelling about technology while using to its fullest. Paul Simon "Me and Julio Down By the Schoolyard". It's time to write, but the muse is downloading a YouTube video. Shushes me away. "Write," she yells. And so I must.