The Pull of a PowerMac

by John Tyler

By now, if you don't have at least one PowerMac in the office, or don't have plans to get one soon, you're definitely out of the mainstream Mac-user profile -- a universe apart from those who last summer waited breathlessly for the release of Apple's new powerhouse (the 9500), then rushed to the States to pick one up before they were released in Japan. If you do plan to buy one, or buy more to upgrade your office, though, be warned: you're about to enter a world of PCIs, DIMMs, OpenTransport, and Shared Library Managers PPC -- a jungle-world of new technology and terms.

Thus began my original column on the PowerMac. But as I sat back last night, replaying in my mind what I'd written, a question came to me: Is this what Computing Japan readers really want to read? Are you so involved in technology (the advertisers hope), or are my words so interesting (I hope), that you will persevere through the prose and make it to the end of the page? The answer, I reluctantly concluded, might be "no."

So forget the jargon and the techie terms. Instead, let's talk; just talk. About the PowerMac, yes, but not about the wheres and the whyfors. Let's put aside model names and version numbers and get down to the basics. Let's talk about why -- whether you're in Japan or elsewhere -- you're going to go out and buy a PowerMac.

Awakening the passion

When I was a young teen, I used to collect a magazine called Heavy Metal. When I went over to a friend's place one afternoon, he showed me this glossy rag that was like no comic book I'd seen before. On its pages were vibrant illustrations that showed colors uncommon in the "comics" of the day. The pages themselves were smooth to the touch, ready to be turned again and again. The cover was always captivating, seductive, and daring. And the stories were "real": long, complex tales with levels of meaning and characters who acted, and reacted. This fantasy/escape was just what I needed as a teenager getting in tune with life.

After I left Wade's basement that day, I talked about the magazine for two weeks, to whoever would listen. And as soon as I'd saved enough, I sent away for a subscription. I continued to receive it for the next seven years, and read it with the same enthusiasm each month. I only stopped reading it a few years ago, long after I had left Canada to live in Japan.

I think of it now as a part of my maturing process. Every time I get back to my parent's home, I flip through an old copy or two, with dreamy nostalgia. What strikes me today is why I got into that magazine in the first place. It wasn't new on the shelves when I first saw it -- just new to me. And while it wasn't something everyone owned, it was widely available. My friend had been buying it for several months, and had even cut out pages for his wall (I could never bring myself to deface it so).

That's why I ordered my first subscription: it was Wade. He loved the art, he loved the stories, he loved the scantily clad bodies. His enthusiasm for the glossy little rag turned me on to it.

The difference between
men and boys...

Now we come forward ten years, and I meet another fellow; in fact, several guys and girls who are all gaw-gaw over their computers. These people are not just happily doing their jobs -- they are enthusiastic about the tools they are doing that job with: the Mac. It was easy enough for me to catch the bug.

When you go out to buy your PowerMac, why are you doing it? I'll bet the reasons are practical. You've got a client list that needs to be on a database that is easy to build, run, and change. A perfect excuse for a computer -- but not necessarily a PowerMac.

Maybe your accountant can no longer prepare the books with that old waapro she's grown so fond of. No matter how much she doesn't want to change, you know her productivity will jump if you get her a better system and teach her to use it. Another good reason for a computer -- but not necessarily a PowerMac.

The reason you'll buy a new PowerMac is the passion. Forget the practicality; any salesman can tell you that practicality never sells anything -- it's the passion. Remember the first commercials from this (one-time) odd-shaped box-of-a-thing that sold itself as the computer for the "rest of us." Remember the person who told you about his Mac? Probably you can still see the gleam in his eye, or the proud tilt to her grin as she told you she would use nothing else. And remember your own first Mac.

Those same feelings will come into play. And when you get your PowerMac out of the box and see what more it can do -- how much faster, sleeker, and sexier it is -- you'll feel the passion again. So as you're pulling out the credit card and trying to remember the kanji for your ward so the delivery man will get the box to the right house, forget about the whyfors and the whatnots of your new purchase. Remember the passion you felt. There's something still there.

John Tyler is a Tokyo-based editor, designer, and writer. He has been Mac-ing since 1988, and swears that someday the ever-growing mass of computer equipment in his ever-smaller apartment will begin to pay for itself. He can be reached at jltyler@gol.com.