February 13, 2010
We are headed down the home stretch of my now book length humor-column-in-the-making that takes a look at technology and our attempts to co-exist peacefully with it. In my last blog, I made the prediction that it would take another four installments to wrap this puppy up, so that would mean three more segments, and counting, if you are...counting that is.
By the way, digressing to talk about technology in action...did you watch the Winter Olympics opening ceremonies last night? Fabulous! Only one glitch, even with the use of, what was it, at least 70 LCD screens? My personal favorite? The part where it appeared that whales were spouting and swimming in the ocean. Now THAT was gold! I can only imagine how incredible it was when you were right there.
The malfunction didn't occur until the very end of the ceremonies and I wouldn't have known it as such, if the anchors hadn't, oh, so helpfully, mentioned it. I guess one of the four columns didn't spring up for its part in the lighting of the Olympic trough, so the four torch-bearing Canadians, including the odds-on favorite Wayne Gretzky, were standing there waiting for a wee bit of time. No biggie. The show went on and it seemed that the lighting was accomplished just fine with three columns, instead of four. Anyway. Where was I? Right. The next segment of my blog...
The Technology Shuffle – Part V
…the proverbial monster or what? Have you ever gotten the bright idea to “get back to basics” and remove the cellular device from your child’s claw-like grip? This you do in an effort to bring about eye contact and reconnect them with their environment as you helpfully point out, “You can take a break from this thing for one day,” all while s/he whines piteously, “But I won’t be able to talk to anyone all day!”
…the proverbial monster or what? Have you ever gotten the bright idea to “get back to basics” and remove the cellular device from your child’s claw-like grip? This you do in an effort to bring about eye contact and reconnect them with their environment as you helpfully point out, “You can take a break from this thing for one day,” all while s/he whines piteously, “But I won’t be able to talk to anyone all day!”
It’s not long before the pathetic turns to the demonic and you see the child of your loins morph into a creature from Frankenstein where you can almost see bolts sprouting from the neck area or, alternatively, maybe this still looks like your child, but you know it won’t be long before the neck swivels around in a full 360 and split pea soup comes shooting out of their mouth. It’s enough to scare even the most experienced of parents.
Fast forward to the end of the day, after you’ve had a chance to savor the smug satisfaction that is rightfully yours over the fact that you’re “helping” your child’s entrée into the Focus Kingdom…
TO BE CONTINUED…
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