That’s right folks, a guy sat typing at his laptop is going to moan about technology. He’s going to tell you it’s evil and ruining our lives, yet doesn’t want to be too far away from his emails all the while. He might miss a 75% off DVD sale at Amazon, not to mention that new PS3 controller he’s watching on eBay!
There is good technology. Good technology is the type that does it’s job but you don’t consciously acknowledge. You walk into a room and turn the light on without really thinking. I don’t really notice the central heating that much either, slight whirr from the boiler but nothing major. I’m also rather fond of running water. That said if they were ever to stop without warning then you’d be looking up numbers in the yellow pages so you can find someone to shout at down the phone. Of course these days, you’d be scouring Yell.com and firing off angry emails. These three are akin to Yakult’s good bacteria and so, by extension, the rest could well kill you! Or more commonly just give you a dodgy stomach.
I think it’s time that we face the fact that the internet is one big conspiracy to distract us from what’s really important in life. I don’t know what this mysterious important thing is, I’ve had a facebook account for over 3 years, I’m too far gone. But I know that it’s out there.
The internet’s always there, tempting us. You sit down to rewrite your CV at 6:30, but first you should just quickly check your emails. Nothing too interesting there, a couple of adverts, Travel lodge are offering you a room for £9 and NPower want a meter reading. Dull. You know how a CV is structured but still you decide that it’s worth looking up. It’s the modern form of an ancient art; that of feeling like you’re working whilst not actually working. Colour coding your folders and arranging them alphabetically, that kind of thing. Of course, your homepage is BBC news and it turns out that if the most interesting things to happen that day are displayed strikingly on a single page, it can be a little diverting. *An Indeterminate Amount of Time Passes* Now that you’re up to speed on the Pope’s travel plans, you look at the clock - 8:45. This leads you to the conclusion that the internet can warp time, and so you minimize Firefox as a precaution to avoid missing Top Gear. Which leaves you back staring at your word document. It states back as unspoiled as when you opened it. Reluctantly, you admit to yourself that enough’s enough, it’s time to crack on. You’re just about to start typing when suddenly you have a great idea for a Tweet (Or worse a blog) and that’s it. You’re stuck helpless on the intricately woven tinterweb.
Even the simple ones manage to aggravate us. Last week, I inadvertently stood on some blu tac and didn’t notice until the insidious little miscreant had become firmly entangled in one of my favourite socks. Many people would at this juncture be grateful that they don’t fix their wall decorations with drawing pins but I’d rather a hole in my foot than a tac in my sock. Who needs skin? At least that problem would have healed itself.
It’s okay for me, I’m a young man, probably in my prime (although that’s depressing for a whole host of other reasons) - I can handle it. But! There’s an entire generation sat at home right now wondering why they can only get one channel on the microwave and what time it’ll be showing Songs of Praise. Those are the real victims of our 21st century lifestyle. My gran can’t handle self service machines in Tesco! As far as she’s concerned touch screen computers are black magic. Realistically, at her age, being confronted by witchcraft after pushing that trolley for an hour is enough to make her cardiologist more than a little nervous. The poor woman is likely convinced that the voice reminding her to take her items is in her head.
Sometimes it makes me wonder, whose side are they one anyway? But then I think of those two beautiful words and I forgive the lot. Two words that literally send a chill down my spine. Air conditioning.
Regards,
Guiteau
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