A new time and place

  • Tuesday, August 5, 2014

Cue the 2001 Space Odyssey theme.

Big voice over as credits roll... I am an Administrivian, and this is Administrivia.

We have become an Internet driven society.

Books, movies, newspaper, radio, even TV is now something we can experience exclusively online.

Everything listed above in hard copy form or stereo console is considered a dinosaur.

Iím online all day, all the time. I never disconnect, so donít sign me up for Jurassic Park just yet.

I am driven by Facebook, both professionally and personally.

I promote my books there (Locked Hearts, The Lunch Box, Broken, and coming in August, Dragonfly); I keep in touch with my family and friends there, and I could even fall in love there.

Hey, stranger things have happened.

Anything I want to know I can find online and in about three nano-seconds, and for that last nano-second and a half, Iím moaning about how nothing downloads fast and I hate seeing that rainbow pinwheel just spin, and spin, and spin.

A generation ago news was defined as anything you could read in your recliner after dinner, and we waited four-to-six weeks for it to arrive in the mail.

Not anymore.

These days you have 140 characters or less to grab someoneís attention.

If itís not something I can read while Iím scrolling down my wall on Facebook, Iím not interested.

And if I click on it, whatever video they show better be over in 90 seconds or less, I donít care how cute the dog, the kitten, the baby goat or your two-year old singing Kid Rock songs might be.

If you can string five words together you can publish a BLOG, and donít worry about grammar and spelling as, according to Facebook, our brains have the ability to discern jibberish (Share if you agree).

If you can take a selfie, you can be an award-winning photographer.

The Internet promotes administrivia at its purest.

To remind any of you that might have forgotten, administrivia is the purveying of totally useless knowledge.

Like knowing which 12 starlets have the most disgusting feet, this is stuff I want - no, itís stuff I NEED to see.

An unlimited supply of administrivia in 90 second bytes.

This is the kind of diet I can live with.

I miss the look and feel of a thick Sunday newspaper though, and the 20-page Sports section included with color comics.

I miss Newsweek magazine. I saw a recent copy while waiting to see the doctor and felt sad that the magazine more resembled a pamphlet than periodical.

The heft and feel of a good book, the scratch and crackle of a vinyl long-playing record album, the warbling image from old videotape, I miss these things.

These days, my world is contained in my cell phone.

Even Sunday church, thereís an app for that.

I donít go to the mall anymore because I am a member of Amazon Prime. I donít buy CDs anymore because I can see anything I want on You Tube for free. Kindle versions of my books are selling better than paperback copies.

Anything I want I can have at the tap of my index finger. Even the mouse has become a dinosaur.

Truly, the world lies at my feet...

Which are propped on the couch where I havenít moved since Tuesday. Come to think of it, what is my point anyway?

This is a curmudgeonís dream.

All this new technology stuff ainít so bad ó oops, ISNíT so bad. Thank you Spell Check.

Now if I can just find an app that can put me through a 30-minute workout at the gym, one I can do lying down, Iíd be in business.

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