Posts Tagged ‘modern

17
Apr
19

Modern (Cellphone) Chivalry Gone Mad!

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Can I charge your what?!

Bumping cellphones?

Getting App-y with it?

Have you seen the commercial where pairs of people meet and, without more than a few words mumbled so softly that I could not tell what the freak they were doing, connect wireless devices and pass along a little battery juice, not unlike the new-fangled system of tossing something to someone with the swipe of a finger on the screen, like payments for just about anything imaginable. I thought it was some odd new way to exchange phone numbers without using one’s voice; heaven forbid you have to speak up and ask with real words these anti-social, wireless-technology-infused days. But, I would be wrong.

I hate to be the party crasher, one more time, but what sense does this make?

How is touching wireless devices to transfer battery power any smarter or better than the “old days” of offering to light someone’s cigarette with a book of matches or lighter you opted to carry just in case you had the chance to play Mr. Chivalry and potentially score points with some woman (or man, if you were the type of woman to boldy carry the flame-maker)?

Here’s the catch, though. Back then? Lighting a cigarette or cigar opened the door to real conversation. You know; that antiquated thing two or more people do when they look at each other, speak with their gullets and hopefully, actually listen to what the other people have to say. You didn’t light the cigarette and then ignore the person unless you were just passing through/by the scene and, likely, scoring points with whoever you accompanied, who thought how nice you are to do that for a stranger.

Oh, wait, I get it. It’s like finding someone on the side of the road with a flat tire or no gas in their car. You just give them a lift.

Except, this lift comes at a high technological and personal risk, most likely, even if you think you’re protected. [Because, honestly? These days, I don’t know who is protected; not even the people creating the forms of protection because they’re still human and thus fallible. And, replacing people with machines is just as stupid because humans build the machines…unless there is some mechanical deity out there itching to replace humanity.] But, even the person stuck on the side of the road can turn into a hazardous situation; sometimes the situation can be a trick/trap. I guess you just take your chances (or look away because you “can’t trust anyone”)?

When you share an umbrella to escort someone to their car in the rain, you don’t hold your wallet and all of your personal account info in the same hands. Maybe if we just used the wireless electronic device for one thing, like making phone calls or checking our heart rate while we excercise, this wouldn’t be a concern. But, what good is a watch if it doesn’t also tap into your favorite video feeds, activate every electrical device in your home, track every move everyone you’ve ever met makes via “social media,” start your car and allow you to pay for dinner?

If your device runs out of battery power and needs to be charged, getting a small (or however big of a) charge from another is only going to encourage you to spend more time ignoring others and your surroundings (if you’re the inept type who runs into walls, crashes their car from being distracted, etc.). Granted, lighting a cigarette for someone was also inviting them to chug down more harmful chemicals into their lungs with a greater chance of suffering some tragic fate. But, at least, the smokers were, usually, social. You don’t light a cigarette and then tune out the rest of the world as if you put on one of those “ultra-modern” goggle systems that transports you to some virtual reality.

But, while the device is charging, you’re free to talk with the person giving you the boost, some will argue. And, if that charging time only lasts a few seconds? Nice five-second chat you just had. I bet you, um, er, uh, *clear my throat*…really learned a lot about the other person.

But, maybe you’re done with your device and can recharge when you get home. So, why not give up the juice to someone who seems to need it right now? Well, why don’t I just drop my pants for the person who hasn’t had sex in three weeks and is moaning about it? Can we get more instant-gratification withdrawal?

Why do parents put timers and “child locks” on kids’ devices? To limit their use of said devices for whatever reason. It could be because the kid is too easily addicted to the device and not being responsible (not taking care of homework and chores). Or, it could be because the kid has a curious mind and the adult world at their fingertips, unlike the generation of my youth, and might tap into some very…questionable content.

Well, I think adults could benefit from locking themselves down, too. Though, it seems, when you put a lock in an adult’s face, they try to pick it, anyway. [Better to not let them know there is a lock, at all. Don’t tell the mortals there’s a tree of wisdom they can’t touch.]

How does offering to sacrifice some of your device’s battery supply to another, just because their device decides to run out of juice, help any situation other than some rare instance when some APP or other feature on a particular device is needed (because your device doesn’t have the same feature/APP)? Only in those seemingly small instances might this be some kind of valuable courtesy. Otherwise…

Well, here’s what I foresee in the near “transparent” future…

“Hi. It looks like you’re about to die, there.” [Looking down at the other person’s device.] “Can I give you a charge?” [Why does that sound like the abductor saying, “Can I give you a lift?”]

“What?” [I wasn’t paying attention to anything but my tiny glowing screen. Who are you? Oh. You’re offering me some battery time.] “Oh. S-Sure. Here.”

[Two wireless devices get intimate with each other on some scummy surface. Was it good for you, Android? Ol’ Iphony needs an E-cigarette.]

“There you go.”

“Um. Thanks.”

“No problem. Have a nice night.” [Wink. ‘Got your personal info. Hack you, later.]

Am I wrong? AM I WRONG? When people have to be concerned about what’s in their wallet or what the wallet is made of lest someone scan their pockets? When you can shop in an actual store without taking your money or credit card out to scan it, just walk past some scanning gizmo which sends the bill to your mailbox?

Honestly, you’d think people would see this stuff coming. [And, I bet some do…while salivating in their sleep.] But, I guess, if you’re dumb enough to just nod when the commercials show people needing to replace their “phone” every time they trip and drop it in a sewer grate, I guess you’re gonna think this is cool and normal.

[Oh, how I miss the days when buying a new telephone meant you wanted something new to look appealing on your countertop or desk and didn’t need to be replaced for as long as you chose to use it. The landline never needed to be replaced unless something actually damaged the wires, which usually required a mistreated cat or some foul weather.]

How long is this teasing game of “Put everything into your computing device.” and “Aren’t you going to buy protection for yourself?” going to continue? Is this the new insurance scam? How long before we offer cellphone protection other than a little person shaped like a padlock? What if said insurance service is just the Prudential rock that starts the snowball to (heck) rolling? Just keep turning people into scared cattle. Shake them pockets til you’re bleeding green with laughter. Oh the promises of get-rich-quick business. Make it bigger and faster, and screw better; that’s just the lie you keep selling.

[Or, is making all of this so effortless and open to crime exactly how we break the crime spree, sort of like disarming the bully by denying him/her an emotional response (or, in this case, having everyone respond emotionally so he/she cannot tell who is the victim)? If everything is within grasp and free to take, where’s the thrill in stealing? Is that the logic? So, if we stop wearing underwear and other clothes, we can stop worrying about stains and certain odors?]

So, have fun storming the castles without firewalls. You get one stinking badge of stupidity for being Ignoro Mondoso. Prepare to have your finances die with your wireless device if you drink this poison. And, enjoy living in glass houses; because, soon enough, I fear, walls may have no meaning.

Kudos to all the adult-education facilities racking up student-loan debts and passing out degrees for tech’ jobs so everyone can have a means of tapping into whatever and whoever they want at any time. So what if your cell-madness factory takes out some farmland that could produce healthy food for millions, replacing that with a handful of temporary jobs to make countless replacement parts for something turning people into mindless microwave ovens, soon replaced with dozens of machines and a handful of supervising technicians who just “take the call” when something goes wrong at the robotic plant.

Pretty soon, you won’t have STDs, anymore; at least, not the kind that requires a medical procedure. You’ll pay a visit to your “computer guy” and, if he/she can’t fix the problem, you’ll just get a new “part,” anyway. Pretty soon, you won’t have to call it prostitution or rape. You’ll just excuse me while I bump my device against yours and have myself a good time. How much is a Virgin Mobile worth on the geisha market? If a cherry pops in someone’s pants, does the owner make a sound?

“No problem. Have a nice night.”

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08
Sep
15

Coffee Talk topic: Are humans regressing? Discuss.

*****

I was thinking today how people seem to be having greater difficulty processing matters that should be simpler as we advance.

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More adults are asking questions kids ask because they are first learning about these matters.  Why is the sky blue?  Why do we wash our hands after using a toilet?  Why do we lose our temper; and how do we get it back once it is lost?  Why am I so emotional today?  What is this that I am feeling…this sadness?  Why are you so loud when you get angry?  Why is this person not doing what I told them to do?

*****

The more questions that have to be answered, the more exhausted I become.  Some matters, I feel, should just be processed in one’s head.  Yet, I find more topics that need to be discussed in a way that makes my head feel like an old computer writing DOS.

Line 10  Greeting

Line 20  Question 1

Line 30  Listen to/for first reply.

*****

The answers to many of these questions, I think, should be more obvious.  Yet, I had this feeling today; the more we invest in this modern world of “my computer does everything for me,” the less we seem to grasp and the further we recede into prehistoric mindsets.  I fear one day soon we may start clubbing each other and dragging women by their hair.

Just a thought.

*****

12
May
15

Kindle Fandango, the modern Reading Rainbow opening song lyrics

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Shutterfly on the neeet…

Amazon has me seeet…

Take a look…

It’s out for Nook…

A Kindle Fandangooo…

IIIIIIII caaan Google anythiiiiing…

Take a look…

It’s out for Nook…

A Kindle Fandangooo…

A Kindle Fandangooooooo…

*****************

Revised lyrics Some more crazy random brainstorming about internet tech/lingo by Writingbolt

12
Jan
15

Profound Thoughts: Do Not Give “Her” a Name

And now, it’s time for more Profound Thoughts with Writingbolt…

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I imagine meeting someone like George Clooney and having a discussion about love and his recent marriage. And, I can hear him telling me, a guy who has yet to come close to any relationship remotely resembling marriage, to go out and find my Amal.

Considering he went as long as he did as a bachelor after a broken marriage left him numb…and the odds of a long, successful/happy marriage in the modern world…there’s one thing I’d have to tell him.

Do not give “her” a name.

Imagine if you met a married someone who told you the same. What if–dare I say it–something unpleasant were to happen to their “one true” love? Does that then mean that your “friend” wanted you to meet/marry someone who would leave you?

You know what I’d say to that? Thanks a lot, you jerk! What kind of crap speech is that?

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28
Apr
14

Blogging at Homes in the 21st Century

If you’re just joining the rest of the world in its present state, welcome to the modern world of sharing one’s thoughts via computer in the 21st century. I’m not exactly Mr. Popular. My online postings are typically spontaneous criticisms/philosophies and personal reflections. ‘Not recipes, advice columns, diet or travel journals, religious passages, school calendars, video links or art galleries (which are apparently far more common and popular). So, when I find someone new “following” my blips in the “social media” universe, I have to wonder what made something I shared so interesting.

Most of the time, these “followers” say nothing. And, more often than not, they come with these unusual corporate identities involving everything from hair care to home construction to pharmaceuticals. I suspect this is due to the addition of what we now call “tags” to my posts, or blog/journal entries. A key word might send a signal to some company’s radar system which then sends a team of robots or specialists (PC zombies swiveling mindlessly in their chairs while fumbling with something between their fingers) into action.

As it turns out, that’s just what happened to me recently. And, here’s that story:

It was a mild April afternoon when I felt compelled to pass along a few thousand words about my distrust of modern medicine and disgust with all the commercials rambling about terrifying side-effects (which are necessary to know in advance though they should neither exist nor make people their lab rats). The following afternoon, I discovered a young man with a shaved head and sunglasses–going by the name Barry Swan Pharmaceuticals–“following” my blog. “Well, that’s…interesting,” I muttered before taking a moment to fetch some lunch.

Just as I closed the fridge, I heard a knock at the front door. A stranger–faintly resembling the young man in the picture (with a fuller head of dark brown hair and more flesh in his cheeks)–stood outside in a midnight blue suit (a “twinge” lighter than black in the daylight). I hesitated to answer, fearing all sorts of uncomfortable chats I might end up having. As I withdrew, he knocked, again, stalling me in my tracks. I proceeded to the kitchen where I then heard a loud “clang” or “clap” and jumped back to find the front door ajar. The unknown man remained silent but now visibly restless on the other side. I took a deep breath and confronted the uninvited guest to my doorstep. “Uh. Hi. What can–what is it you wanted?”

Adjusting the clipboard in his pale, waxy hands, the man began, “Mr. (Writingbolt)? I’m here to talk to you about a convenient medical supply service we just recently started and why you should sign up–for a nominal fee–to have any prescriptions you might need right to your doorstep.”

“I-I’m sor– I don’t– I’m not a retiree avoiding nursing homes like the plague.” I clasped my left hand around the outer edge of the door and eased it ahead of the adjacent shoulder. “I’m not even in my forties, yet. Isn’t that what you guys always ask about in your commercials? Being over forty?”

“Mr. (Writingbolt), we’re not so concerned with your age at this moment. The entire nation is getting on board with the new medical insurance system. We’d just like your signature so we can proceed with adding you to our database of potential customers. And, then I’ll be out of your hair. By the way, we sell products for improving the quality and quantity of your hair, too, if you’re interested.”

“Yeah…no thanks. Sorry. Some other time, perhaps.” I don’t know why I even bothered to use such courtesy. As I shut the inner door in his face, I saw him raise an index finger and felt a cold wave of air rush up along my neck and the back of my hand. I didn’t give the whole scene a second thought. [At least, not for the next few minutes.]

Weeks rolled by, and I continued to find new and questionable faces (and some icons instead of faces) tracing my online activity. It’s not the first time such oddities have carried over into my e-mail (electronic mail) box. I’m not surprised (anymore) to find ads for male enhancements and the like though I am grateful most of these get automatically swept into what’s known as the junk folder.

Then, one evening, I thought I saw a car drive by the house with a curious shift in speed. Its headlights slowed to a crawl and then zipped out of sight with an unusual engine sound. Poking my nose through the sheer curtains, I looked for some trace glow of a tail light. All I could see were the amber glows of the aging streetlights and a reflection cast by the table lamp at my back. I lingered for a while, waiting to see if some wild animal might surprise me. [It’s not uncommon for a deer, goose or fox to cross the front lawn.]

Just as I was about to give up my vigil, a searchlight stream cut across my left shoulder. Shielding my eyes, I let go of the curtains and moved toward the table lamp. When my vision cleared, I squinted through the veil and noticed a dark object–roughly the size of a small charcoal grill–hovering outside the window. Another crossed behind the first and curved over the roof. I was only able to make out the shape because the bright beacon had been dimmed. And, now, I could see a small red “eye” glaring at me near the UFO’s base. [Except, this UFO was not from some other planet. It was a “domestic” disturbance of my peace.]

The moment I lowered my guard, the “drone” buzzed back a few feet and began peppering the windows with gunfire. Running down an adjacent corridor to my master bedroom, I noticed one of these flying probes scanning the items laid out on my dresser. A little alarm went off, and the drone paused its data collection to turn its targeting sensors onto me.

Before another window could be shattered, I turned and ducked into the nearest bathroom where no natural light could enter. Here I thought I’d be safe for a moment, at least. I expected to hear police sirens if anyone reported the sounds of gunfire like good neighbors. But, as I counted the beats of my heart, the lagging silence became unnerving. Eventually, I rose from my crouched position beside the toilet and tiptoed back to the picture window where my hands shook as I cautiously fingered the finely cut bullet holes. [Luckily, I had come away from the incident without a scratch.]

I sat down with a book of crossword puzzles and a cup of hot…beverage…for a half-hour before I finally heard a police car easing down my street. The mustached officer waited for me at the front door, and, this time, I didn’t hesitate to answer. But, the questions he proceeded to ask became increasingly uncomfortable. After getting a detailed description of the drone activity, the policeman inquired about my medical insurance plan. At that moment, I decided to cut the interrogation short and excuse myself to take a leak. Officer Ginsborough…or Gingerpecker…told me to watch what I “go around discussing” whether or not I do it online. Then he folded his notepad, settled for a courteous “goodnight” and returned to his station. [Suffice to say, sleep did not come easy neither that night nor any night the following week. It took me two weeks just to get the picture window replaced and two more to afford the bill.]

The next time I had the irrepressible urge to vent my frustrations online, a few days passed before I had another uninvited drone party outside my home. I could barely utter my disapproval before more gunfire sent me diving for protection. This time, they brought some sort of saw and began cutting away a portion of the roof. A brief “whomp”–followed by faint footsteps–sprang from the back door, tugging at my left ear. I felt the warmth from a pair of searchlights before a foreign pair of delicate hands shoved me aside.

Catching a glimpse of curling brown strands–burning red-orange in the path of the probing beacons–I couldn’t focus on the woman’s face as she huffed, “Stay with me if you want to live.”

[And, if you’ve seen your share of sci-fi/action films, you probably can guess how the rest of this story goes. I’ll leave it to your imagination as I remind all of you in the land of blog to be mindful of what you make public from the comfort and convenience of your personal (or office) computers. Those “drones”…they’re practically everywhere. You keep your eyes open and your mouth shut if you know what’s good for ya. But, if you’re going to “follow” or “like” someone’s post, be sure to leave a personalized comment, discussing your interest in the matter. Otherwise, you–and especially I–may never know what’s lurking in the digital shadows.]

 

 

~Writingbolt, 4-25-2014




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