The eighteen floors of apartments overlooking the Gulf of Mexico boast many more new "windows" than ever before. Overcoming generational shyness, the occupants of the good life here have ventured out into space and begun to reap the benefits (and curses) of techno-tweaking. The conventional claim with regard to taking up the cyber habit, more often than not, is an almost apologetic observation relating to the efficacy of e-mail when it comes to keeping up with grandchildren. That is how the fever starts in some. That is how it stays with some--just at that entry-level commitment and nothing more.

There are those, however, who take to it with incredulous delight and could play at it until the cows come home. I know one fellow who stays up most of the night playing online poker and bridge. Another is into making greeting cards which he slips under friend's doors at the slightest provocation. Then there's me and my friend on the sixteenth floor; we frequently e-mail in lieu of phone calling, which is a habit we got into last August when both of us were away from the condo and dealing with Northern summer home snags. Although we had known one another before this time period, it can be said that this friendship truly solidified over the Internet.

There are more examples, but you get the idea. When it comes our turn to go not so gently (or soon) into that (we hope) good night, it will not be without some stimulating first hand experience with the digital dimension.

And now . . . the Viagra thing. The appearance of this pop a pill for the penis has caused more of a stir in the condo than Monica Lewinsky. The reaction to this new oral therapy for erectile dysfunction is interesting; many jokes about it e-mailed back and forth and references to it at dinner. Seem to be two factions: Men are very interested; women are ambivalent.

There's a joke I heard once long before the debut of Viagra. Seems a man went to the doctor. He took his wife of many years with him for moral support. He had not been feeling well for some time and finally presented himself for a going over. After a lengthy examination, the doctor asked to speak to his wife alone. The doctor informed the wife that her husband was in very bad shape and would definitely die unless he had sex three times a day. The wife returned to the waiting room where the husband was anxiously sitting. "Well,"said the husband, "what did the doctor say?" The wife replied, "You are going to die."

Was it the three times a day that sealed the man's fate? Would once a day have been less lethal to his longevity? Surely once a week would preclude the death sentence, or would it? How much is too much? How much is enough? Depends on who you ask, doesn't it? Maybe the doctor should have prescribed Viagra to the wife. Maybe we should set up a condo chat room so that all interested parties could bat this back and forth.

After all . . . even though none of us needs Viagra . . . it has to be noted that Medicare is not going to cover the use of it. Isn't that age discrimination or something? Why shouldn't the senior population enjoy dysfunction as much as any other demographic group? Yeah-rah-rah!

--Nimrod the GeezerGeek