I dig Benedictine monks. They have a secret liqueur recipe--I've always wished I could say the same--and they value silence. Would that I could make that latter claim about my main PC at home. Recently, it started sounding like a dishwasher mugging a vacuum cleaner, so I got out the tools. First, because the system's 1GHz PIII generates about as much warmth as a toasted bagel, I changed the CPU fan to a heat sink. I also installed a fancy new power supply with a quiet fan. So wasn't I surprised when all that barely made a difference! Hmmm.

Have we actually arrived in the era of selecting phones like we select computers--that is, by OS first?

The only part still turning was the hard drive, but I found it hard to believe a device with aerospace tolerances and a motor the size of an earring could make all that noise. But Willy in the CNET Forums wouldn't be surprised at all. Taking his post to heart, I bought and installed a Seagate Barracuda drive with fluid bearings. That did it. Now my system's so quiet that it's just weird. Am I a nut for spending more than $200 to shut up a four-year-old computer? Or do you agree that quietness is the most underserved design aspect in PC manufacturing?

Let's go, Treo!
I relish this almost as much as the 1990 Super Bowl: My beloved Treo 600 walked away with this year's March madness crown for cell phones. We noticed that in the finals you pitted a Palm device against a Windows phone. This is the first time we've seen such a clear-cut battle between phone operating systems. I think that could be a mere coincidence--but maybe I'm wrong: Have we actually arrived in an era where we select phones the way we select computers--that is, by OS first?

Cell phone faux pas
Some sort of reverse caller ID would have saved me the other night when I was running late to dinner. From my car, I called Terry, the friend I was meeting. When she picked up her cell, I hollered the sort of joshing, salty tirade that is amusing only when you've been friends since well before the Cold War ended.

Then she replied, "Pardon me?"

Whoops!

As my GI tract turned to water, I realized Terry must have changed her cell number long ago--and God knows who I just told to chill and keep her T-backs on. With my luck, it was probably Carly Fiorina.

Let your geek flag fly
I love old calculators (and that's saying something coming from an English major). My HP-33C has been a constant pal since high school. It's kinda chunky with really stiff keys, but it was one hot ride in its day. In Menlo Park, California, circa 1976, you could trade a 33C for enough Frampton tickets to go on a legendary double date. HP hasn't been that cool since. And of course my HP-11C is also fabulous. On CNET Radio a couple years ago, I mentioned that I had lost its manual. Two days later, a 3-inch ring binder arrived. Inside was a meticulously photocopied 11C manual, courtesy of a listener--the HP calculator brotherhood in action.

Inside was a meticulously photocopied manual--the HP calculator brotherhood in action.

I also love my TI-5100 desktop calculator. It comes in a horrid mustard color but boasts a key feel that only the original IBM PC keyboard can beat. And then there's my Miida MC1214, a rare Bauhaus beauty with a vacuum fluorescent display, as well as a processor so measurably slow that it seems like the calculator has to think before it displays a result--quaint. In fact, the thing is so rare that I can't even find a picture of it on the Net, but here's the similar Miida MC840. The last time I sat around with friends and talked calculators, it went all night. I'll grab the beer while you get started...