Sorry, trees, but I need paper books.

I've just finished reading a rather old book, Penny Jordan's Silver, online and I can't say the headache is worth the experience. Unless the experience teaches me how thoroughly ill-fitted e-books and I are; in that case, the headache is well worth the lesson.

I know e-books have been really popular and everything, but I guess I still can't adapt to it. My eyes are about to fall out of their sockets; they're pleading with me to just stab them the next time I attempt such a strenuous activity. Well, it would save them a lot of time, really, since reading a full-length novel on my computer is just a form of agonizingly slow torment that results in pretty much the same thing. I'd even be saved the headache!

I'm not about to wax on about how I'm a purist or classicalist or whatever who stands loyal to the beauty of traditional books. I ain't even much of a reader. You won't find me bitching about how the world is losing the feel of "real" books, but that's because I'm usually too busy chopping trees down for my selfish purposes. Like tissues. Heck yeah, tissues.