I ignored her, moved on, walked the dog, returned from the frigid cold with the new copy of the Yellow Pages, which rested in our yard. “Look at this useless shit,” I said to her.
“Yes!” she replied. “That’s the blog post! Please!”
So here it is. The Yellow Pages are obsolete. Beyond obsolete. It’s as if someone dropped off an Atari 2600. Or a rotary phone. Or a new pair of legwarmers. They belong to a bygone age’s bygone age. There’s this thing, you see, called the Information Superhighway. Where, if someone wants, say, the phone number for the local pizza joint, they look up The Google. It’s all there! Really! Amazingly!
The Yellow Pages piss me off, because trees are cool, and Lord knows how many die so that Richard Weiss Esq can run his advertisement on the cover, and so I can page to turn 81 and find all the local debt consolidation joints, and so I can, quite literally, remove the Yellow Pages from the Yellow Bag and deposit it, immediately, in our big recycle bin.
I know … I’m babbling.
It just sucks.