More Mecha than Org

Our lives are reduced to electronic impulses stabbing at our eyes and wrecking our sense of reality in the form of email.

Gone are the days when it would be normal to not hear from someone for a few days at a time. And gone is the singularity of personality. Now we occupy many personae and it all depends on what electronic goal or piece of Taintia Majoria attached to seXXXy@yahoo.com we seek to erstwhile probe.

When you walk up to a person, like an actual person (as opposed to K-Mart manikins or Bob Costas I suppose) its pretty freaky to think about all of the bizarre perversions they hide inside of their actual reality, their electronic one. Most of the people you meet have probably seen a chimp drink its own pee like a water fountain. And those of you who haven't just clicked on that link so the cycle is complete.

Fifteen year old sex kittens and half off snowboarding mittens, terabytes of vacation photos with you tube videos and a Panda blowing its nose. STOP.

The ultimate idiosyncrasy, the breadth of our own reality, no longer exists solely in 3 dimensional space, it is a tangled mass of fiber optic cable and switches. Instantaneous gratification is all the rage. I didn't check my email for a week and I had 50 messages. Several were asking if I was "OK." No, I'm not OK.

I'm friggin three days late posting to the PHUI blog and didn't even know it.

Um. wait. What week is it?