My friend Todd got me this mouse, when he visited family in San Diego. I could have bought one down the street in Germany without an issue, but I didn’t know that at the time. I’m grateful to him, and I still use it today.
Save your fingers and use a mouse. There’s a song by Sun Kil Moon about his friend Brett:
My friend Brett, my friend Brett, my friend Brett, my friend Brett, he liked to play the guitar. But he had an awkward way of playing bar chords with two fingers spreading his index and middle fingers really far apart. One day in band practice he dropped like a deer was shot and was flipping around like a fish. He had an aneurysm triggered by a nerve in his hand from the strain he was putting on it. I went to see him in Ohio; he had a horseshoe shaped scar on his scalp and he talked real slow. We played pool like we did in our teens and his head was shaved and he still wore bell-bottomed jeans.
In ‘99 I was on tour in Sweden when I called home To tell my mom I got a part in a movie when she said “Mark, there’s something that you need to know.” “Brett died the other day, you really should send a letter to his mom and dad.” And I got on my train in Malmo and looked out at the snow feeling somewhere between happy and sad. My friend Brett, my friend Brett. My friend Brett, my friend Brett. My friend Brett, my friend Brett, my friend Brett. He had a wife and a son. My friend Brett, my friend Brett, my friend Brett. He just liked to play guitar and he never hurt anyone.
Which is enough reason to get a mouse as anything else, really.