I don’t miss dial-up internet, I just don’t. I don’t even like the sound because it’s just digital screeches and it’s a sound that makes me cringe a little upon hearing it. Because I remember the times when I’d be listening to music with headphones with volume high and then that fucking digital screech just blares into my ears.
I don’t miss waiting 30 minutes to load a page. I don’t miss a bit of it.
As trivial as it sounds, pornography.
Imagine having to pull out the trench from the winter drawer and drive to another town’s smutt shop, so they don’t recognize you, every time you feel like wanking
For a long time, I thought porno mags in bushes at parks was a ruse invented by the previous generation to confound the current
Oh man. Finding porno mags in bushes as a kid was like finding buried treasure. Especially if the pages weren’t sticky.