A Green Hunting Cap Squeezed the Top of the Fleshy Balloon of a Head
Too much time on their hands. People twittering and tiddling and tumbling, fetching kvetching. It's too simple. Too easy. The barrier between looking cool and looking like an utter dweeb is eroding. Solid strong concrete crumbling into flaky bits of Toll House Cookies, snacked up by eagerly drooling mouths. Dorkism is our future! Heed my words!
In point, we now have people designing ways to take a Wiimote and have it talk to their sophisticated computers. Because we can't use a mouse anymore? Oh, right, no, it's so you can control your version of PowerPoint or Keynote with a flick of your wrist. But DUDE! You are standing in a sea of professionals, sharply dressed in your professional suit, waving around a Wiimote like a slide-driving light saber, the nunchuck dangling limply in your left hand. Oh yes, you are mighty awesome, Aphrodite. If you do that motion just a touch faster, it looks like a wanking claw.
My server looks like it's behaving itself again - the wacky crap that was spewing from it has stopped its rabit frothing. I'm disappointed, but not a lot. I love poking boils, but that was just looking messy, and after my last experience with antibiotics killing my digestive tract's ability to function normally, I wasn't looking forward to whatever was on my server spreading from a wave of digital pixels to any region of my body. Like, ew. The internets no longer scare me. I loves them again. I might even try tackling a few crazies... or maybe just pontificating on them. So much less messy.
Posted by StuR on July 20, 2007 11:49 PM | Permalink