Buying a Rolex?

When I switched to my current broadband service, I didn't trust their spam filter. So I'd do a quick check of what was being trapped and grumble about what wasn't. Even sent them a couple of messages about how much spam was getting missed by the filter.

Eventually, I gained confidence that they weren't throwing out correspondence from a long lost friend along with the porn and other crap people of remarkable little intelligence but high greed were sending me. But I still check the headers, habitually, regularly. Over the last few weeks, the spam change has been remarkable.

I need to buy a Rolex.

More than porn, more than cheep dr*gs from KanNaDa, more than sexual potency (or cheep dr*gs from small Latin American countries that can assist my sixu*l potancy among other things). A Rolex is the thing to have. Should I appear with a Rolex on my wrist, I'd need none of the former. Rolex is the ultimate in bling bling and superior chick magnet.

Trying to stay in touch with pop culture, though I am approaching my dotage, I know that bling bling is not the son of Barney and Betty Rubble, from the Flintstones. He was, of course, named Bam Bam but what if the Rubble's had a kid who was, y'know, a bit different (wink, wink), then maybe that was Bling Bling. But I digress. No need to cause rumors about loveable cartoon characters when you can taunt real people who may experience actual distress over their choice of timepieces.

I do know that bling bling is plural, cause if you just have one or a little, it's a bling. So Rolex is so big, so much, that just one gets you the plural -- bling bling. As we know from hip hop culture and good old 'merican advertising (which are more or less the same thing) more is better. Rolex is so much better, it gets you an automatic extra bling along with waterproofing and a stainless steel case.

So why must I have a Rolex? My current watch, purchased in at a WalMart because my other watch broke, and I needed one in a hurry, has been ticking along for over seven years now, keeping accurate time. Which is good, 'cause I was so much in a hurry that I stumbled over the falling prices, which had littered the floor thanks to that stupid smilie face thing.

I have now spent more than the purchase price of the watch on a replacement battery and a new band (the old one broke) but I went to Target for those items. My El Cheapo has a night light, is waterproof though not to 100 meters but sufficent to allow me to do dishes or go fishing without worries. It was manufactured in a third world country considerably larger than Switzerland not known for precision craftsmanship or reasonable living standards. It came with one of those smooth (genuine former cow) leather bands that doesn't catch the hair on my arm in the metal links.

Given that it is a watch, I have to report that it keeps accurate time. I've reset it when we change from Eastern Standard and back, with a rare occasional tweak in between.

My cheapie watch weighs next to nothing, so I guess I can't claim any aerobic exercise benefits from swinging a chunk of metal around at the end of my arm. Then again, if it gets run over by a Hummer, it's road pizza. A Rolex would take out the Hummer, big time, since it has a protective last for generations shield built in. My great-grandchild would not have to replace the band but would complain about having arm hair ripped off. Perhaps by then genetic engeering, responding to the cries from generations of Rolex owners, would have enabled unrippable arm hair through stem cell research.

Still, no woman has ever walked up to me and said: "Is that a WalMart watch on your wrist? Honey, despite your advanced age, you must not need new imported softabs chewable Vicialsgra to get it on. "

Perhaps I should consider buying a Rolex.