I just remembered that the LAST time a cassette adapter refused to play ball, I administered a little street justice and then cameraphoned a pic to Flickr.
In my defense, this wasn’t a case of rage. It was acting up so badly (flipping sides every twenty seconds or so) that I immediately pulled into a Best Buy and bought a new one. Back at the car, as I broke the new one out of the package, I noticed that a crack in the pavement was exactly the right width for getting a little closure on my relationship with the old adapter.
I breathed in, I let it out, and then I uttered a calm and centering mantra:
“This is my iPod cassette adapter. I own it. It is an inanimate object with no feelings. If it would amuse me to jam it into this crack and then use that leverage to kick it into many, many pieces — in a calm and efficient manner, in which I do not lose any control of my anger — then there are absolutely no ethical or moral hindrances standing in my way.”
And so, I did.
I did feel a little better afterward.