Home > Society and Culture > Spacebook, Myface and the Age of Screaming

Spacebook, Myface and the Age of Screaming

It’s impossible to know what name future scholars will give to this time of ours but I have no doubt that historians will look back on the turn of the 21st Century as a time when narcissism became a social mandate.  A billion people screaming for attention with the excruciating minutia of their lives.  It’s a little like standing along the side of the interstate waving your underwear at the passing drivers.

We used to have conversations.  For most of human history, people gathered together around the fire and talked in complete sentences.  Now, we tweet.

Imagine an Ice Age Internet:

­Mook:  I’m having Mammoth tongue sandwiches.

Queeb:  That’s so last winter.

Call me old fashioned, but I prefer face-to-face conversations.  If you have something to say to me, say it.  Don’t text it.  I don’t know about you, but I don’t think in 148 characters.  My thoughts are little more robust than that.  And I don’t need to know what you’re doing and where you’re doing it every minute of every day.  I have enough trouble keeping track of my own life.  I really don’t need minute-by-minute updates on yours.  What happens when this constant participation in every moment of everyone’s life is taken to its ultimate conclusion?

Jerry:  Is masturbating in the men’s room at Phil’s Texaco.

Most people would call that TMI.

I call it DILLIGAF.

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