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Just call me Joe Brown Jr.; I want my pica pole & glue pot

Throughout my newspaper career, I have welcomed change.
Technology has made my life much easier.
When I started in the business 37 years ago, I would bang out a story on an old manual typewriter, then dictate it to some minimum wage person back at the office who wouldn't know a football from a Milk Dud.

E-mail is wonderful.

And instead of going to the public library and doing hours of research, I can now - thanks to the Internet - get all the information I need in a matter of minutes.
And never leave my desk.

But when I came to work on Monday morning, I felt like Joe Brown Jr.
If my pants hadn't been zipped, I would have sworn I was Good Old Joe B himself.
God bless him - Joe still hasn't figured out how to transfer a phone call.
The Internet? You can reach him at www.dumbass.com.

I now know how Joe feels.
I was him on Monday.
I was on vacation last week when our world at the newspaper changed drastically.
I was lost.
But I will figure it all out.
By the end of the week, I will be an old pro at this new system.

But what about poor Joe?
He still hasn't figured out our old system.
I understood how he felt on Monday.
For awhile there, I longed for the day when we all had pica poles and glue pots.

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