Selective Neo-Luddism, or Burying My Head in the Sand

I have this weird urge with new technological trends to not just resist them, but to often overtly ignore their existence and/or completely avoid learning what they are.

For example: I didn't know what a "blackberry" was (other than a delicious fruit and a Black Crowes song) for years. Didn't want to know. I also thought that Facebook was the high school and college (read: kiddie) rip-off of MySpace until about two months ago. Maybe it was that at some point in the past. I don't know, I still haven't gotten around to investigating that. All I know is it is apparently acceptable for persons of legal drinking age to be members.

I don't know what the exact impetus for this Luddism is. I am not opposed to technology and advancement. I enjoy many other fruits of the high-tech world - my HDTV, my MacBook, etc. I am not going around burning down factories in protest of the Industrial Revolution. It's not some principled stance or an attempt to be hip by being anti-trend or uber-cynical. I could care less. I just find myself holding out on certain things. Somewhere in the back of my head I think it becomes some kind of social experiment - someone mentions something new and hot, and I don't know what it is, so I just see how long that can go on. I usually don't even tell people about it. Just my own little stubborn game I play. Eventually, though, I can't hold out any longer, because the part of our culture that I habitate becomes saturated with the object of my ignorance.

Today's example: Twitter.

My friend R. Craft kept bringing up Twitter to me, but I told her to shut it (nicely). In the few weeks since then, all my favorite blogs, radio stations, etc. have starting referring to their Twitters or whatever. So I give up. I am going to check it out. And you, faithful reader, will come along on the voyage of discovery....

Okay, going to Google to search "Twitter." I see they have their own website - okay, so Twitter is a proper noun, trademark, whatever. Click on this.

Oh good, it takes me to a "What is Twitter?" page. I hope this is better than "What is I Am Second?"

"Twitter is a service for friends, family, and co–workers to communicate and stay connected through the exchange of quick, frequent answers to one simple question: What are you doing?"

What the hell does that mean? Is this like those Status Updates on MySpace? I hate those things! It is just about telling others what you are doing? I don't care what people are doing. I thought this was something about blogging, like RSS feeds for blogs or something. Okay, I need to calm down. Let's explore further. (I like how one of the three best quotes they could get was "I really like Twitter.")

Let's go to the "Why?" tab. I am very curious now to see why I should give a shit about this thing.

"Why? Because even basic updates are meaningful to family members, friends, or colleagues—especially when they’re timely.

• Eating soup? Research shows that moms want to know.
• Running late to a meeting? Your co–workers might find that useful.
• Partying? Your friends may want to join you."

Is this a joke? Did someone make this thing up just to try to raise my blood pressure? I had planned for this post to be me signing up for Twitter and learning a valuable lesson about how I shouldn't hate on things I don't know about because I will eventually end up thinking they are awesome...but this is stupid. Unless something changes quickly, there ain't no damn way I'm signing up to find out who is eating soup. Let's click the "How?" tab.

"With Twitter, you can stay hyper–connected to your friends and always know what they’re doing. Or, you can stop following them any time. You can even set quiet times on Twitter so you’re not interrupted.

Twitter puts you in control and becomes a modern antidote to information overload."

Hyper-connected? I don't care what my friends are doing. I avoid most of the bastards as much as possible. Information overload? Geez, I can never keep track of how many of my friends are eating soup and/or partying. I need a website that will sort through all of this for me.

Okay, that's it, our fun little experiment is aborted. This thing is stupid. I am not even gonna sign up. I can't even finish the blog with any semblance of style. I am too disappointed and angry.

Fuck Twitter.

My Two Cents on this Hipster Crap

Okay, this Dracula vs. Werewolf thing is burrowing its way deeper and deeper into my waking mind, thus making it (even more) difficult to get any work done. So I will let it out here.

For those of you who don’t number yourselves among the crossover traffic between this blog and Hot Water Cornbread: first, what the hell is wrong with you? Second, an explanation is in order.

Our friend Jangles (aka Nathan) is a man of explicit instrumental and vocal talent, a possessor of impressively antique guitars and an equally impressive rhythm section, but not one who has been often lauded as a pillar of logic or a burgeoning superstar of 21st century philosophy. He and his friend/co-worker Jack, a musician who was in a band with Kid Congo, as well as the primary male character in the music video for the Jeff Buckley song “Everybody Here Wants You” came up with this game wherein the whole of humanity, to a man, can be classified as either a Werewolf or a Dracula. Now, HWC has touched upon the particulars in his own blog (namely that there are no particulars), but after a recent phone conversation with the Cornbreadster, I wanted to delve further into this ridiculousness.

For the record, I am offended that Jangles did not bring up this game when he came to my house just one day after bombarding HWC with whisperings of bloodsuckers and shapeshifters. Perhaps he realized that the lack of parameters would bring me to smite him either with a cricket bat or with indefatigable intellect. The other possible solution is that the proprietors or staff of Club Next had forced so much drink down his gullet the night before that he was too hung over to remember anything about the game. Either way he is out of my will.

So.

Talking with HWC led us to touch upon our own immediate thoughts on what makes one a Dracula or a Werewolf (anyone taking umbrage with the use of “Dracula” over “Vampire” should again refer to HWC’s top-notch explanation). We both recognized that one difficulty with the game is one’s immediate inclination to look at physical appearance. Many of our group are gentleman of winter-insulation stature and/or shockingly hirsute faces/heads/backs/etc. However, a fat hairy back does not a Werewolf make. This point should be first and foremost in the mind of any taxonomer. This shit is about personality.

HWC’s first thought was that the process by which a person makes a decision, be it what to do with their 401(k) or which bitch to try to fuck at the club, is penultimate in determining their mythological (?) creature status. Werewolves don’t think it through. Draculas are cold and calculating. Tough to argue with that logic.

My theory was that one’s public (and to some degree, private) persona is what makes them what they are. Loud, boisterous, destructive and grating are all terms one could associate with a Werewolf. Similarly, quiet, snobby, cool and boring (possibly) could all be Draculaean modifiers. And this doesn’t even begin touch on the transformative nature of both the Werewolf and Dracula. That would introduce too many variables, and possibly cancel one another out if you are of the mind that both could exist as mild-mannered everymen when not in their bloodlusting states.

The point is (yeah, Walter, what’s your point?) that two discerning individuals came up with two equally valid parameters of discussion for the taxonomy of Werewolves and Draculas. After I got off the phone with HWC (who had originally contacted me to guilt me into writing another blog, so here you go, bitch) I quickly realized that the brilliance of this game is not in the open-endedness, per se, though that does come into it, but the multi-player aspect. To wit:

Two players can come up with two separate but equally valid rationalizations for categorizing a person a certain way. If they both call said spade a spade, then it is solid. That person is what they have decided. Three or even four unanimously deciding that you are a Dracula makes it even more so. So long as everyone agrees with the different criteria, then the lack of parameters is overcome by an almost democratic brainstorming.

The main ramification of this is that the game can no longer be played alone, unless for the purpose of forming opinions for later conferencing with fellow taxonomers, because no one (besides schizophrenics and lead singers) believes their opinion is THE be-all end-all.

Let it be said then that henceforth all formal decisions of who is a Werewolf and who is a Dracula are only valid if decided on by two or more people in unanimity, and said classification can only be overturned by a similarly unanimous decision by a greater number of people.

Let it also be said that this game is already getting on my nerves. Good Lord.

Super Bowl Mini Post

"For relaxing times, make it Santori time."

The Super Bowl is THE time to watch all the best commercials, so you can be primed for water cooler talk at work the next day about Clydesdales and cavemen. But I've become so well-trained to zone out when commercials come on that I don't think I've seen one yet. I find myself doing anything other than watching the ol' adverts: getting another piece of pizza, walking around the house aimlessly, singing the Winnie-the-Pooh theme song (rumbily-tumbily, climin' a honey tree!). So I was worrying about it, then I realized, Hey! I don't give a shit. So there. I would ask my readers to let me know if you see any commercials that are actually good, but none of you own televisions, because you are all principled like that.

(Side note: I also find myself not paying attention to the actual game. I have nothing but mild dislike for both of these teams. Then right as I type that, the longest and arguably most exciting play in Super Bowl history takes place. Lovely.)