Before my mission, I had never sent a text message, never poked anyone* via Facebook, and never looked up the Marvel character Deadpool on Wikipedia because I just wanted to know. In fact, I had only a vague idea what Wikipedia was. I didn’t yet own an iPod, and I was still borrowing my mom’s clunky Nokia cell phone with a pull-out antenna. I was also still a fervent acolyte of the PC cult, regarding anything Mac with distrust usually reserved for infomercial salesmen and Ku Klux Klansmen.
After a two-year break from reality, I returned to the technology dimension and found it a different and scary place.
Now I really have no idea where I would be without it all.
Facebook. At its core, it’s a way whereby you can keep in touch with friends old and new. But after spending a few minutes there, it’s clear that it’s much more: Facebook is a way to let everyone, both those who don’t care and those who really don’t care, know which farming implement you most resemble or which Transformers character you and 40 million other people are most like.**
Wikipedia. An online encyclopedia that anyone can edit. Sounds like a great idea, right? Despite the obvious possibility of anything of Wikipedia being written by someone’s cat who someone gained control of a keyboard, it is truly a useful tool. Many academics malign Wikipedia for its inherent lack of trustworthiness, but let’s be honest here — if you’re sitting in class, possessed by a sudden desire to learn about anything from African trade routes to the lightsaber, this is the place to go.
(Did you know you can click on “Random article”? Let’s see: “Turkey at the 2006 Winter Olympics” … “1993 Australian Baseball League season” … “2 gauge” … “Dave Ford” … “Hypoiodous acid” … “Stargate” …)
iPod touch. I can sit in the back of Sunday School, ostensibly flicking through my vast collection of Church manuals and scriptures that came with my scriptures app. Actually, I’m playing Hero of Sparta and defeating various denizens of the underworld. Not that I’m really fooling anybody.
Laptop. My Macbook truly is a wonderful thing, despite having been made obsolete several times. I mean, right after I bought mine, Apple came out with the new aluminum Macbook, which carried facial recognition software; the new aluminum Macbook Pro, which was durable enough to withstand a minor nuclear blast; the new larger Macbook Pro, which had battery powerful enough to run Iron Man’s suit for thirty minutes; and the newest Macbook, which is, apparently, so earth-friendly you could actually plant it and expect a tree to grow. ***
Cell phone. I’ve never been an excessive texter, but it’s easy to see how addictive it can be to have a conversation with someone without having to actually open your mouth, put on clothes, or even devote more than fifteen seconds of every minute to the effort.
Isn’t technology grand? I don’t know how I ever survived without it.
Become a follower. Tell your friends.
* One of my friends and I are engaged in a poking competition, wherein we poke each other on Facebook. The complex ritual goes like this: one of us will poke the other. When the poked party discovers he or she has been poked, he or she will poke back, after which the original poker retaliates with a new poke. The possibilities are truly endless.
** Most people get Optimus Prime when they take this quiz. As flattering as this may be for you, you’ve got to realize that not everyone really has it takes to be a self-sacrificing giant robot who turns into a semi truck. Somebody’s got to be Ratchet or Ironhide.
*** I want to know what would grow on this tree. Smaller Macbooks? iPods?
Showing posts with label facebook. Show all posts
Showing posts with label facebook. Show all posts
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Monday, October 19, 2009
My very first hate mail- I feel so proud. [Connor]
One of my friends' Facebook' account recently got hacked. The hackee (I assume) wrote an angry status report in which they shouted at the hacker and called them (I'm not making this up) "a tire-kissing bum." Needless to say, I had to comment on their choice of words. I mean, really. Is that the best they could come up with? It was meant in harmless fun, of course. This is the response I got. The hackee is a pretty nice person, so I assume it's from the hacker:
Oh really? My bad. Ya your right- I guess I could have used better vocabulary for you- how about a stuck pig? Ya! Perfect! Your the kind of person who is fed up with yourself and who can't help but make yourself look like a douche bag whatever it is that your trying to do to graduate from girlhood to boyhood, and even more harder for you, manhood. It is also apparent that your too afraid to fight because of the fear of dying with a little blood leak from your body. I'll bet you've never fought for anything in your life, by the way. Plus, with the disease that you have that makes you keep bleeding without your blood clotting, even if something like a chicken does scratch you, you can't do anything about it and a stuck pig is a perfect name for you! (I'd get rid of that chicken if I were you so you don't have to worry about dieing from chicken scratch (ha ha, good one huh?) Might as well because one of those chickens obviously is out to get you if it got into your house in your front door) Are you a fan of make believe gophers that carry a machine gun? What does the word HOPE supposed to mean int that picture? I'm guessing your hoping that gophers take over the world with little machine guns or something to protect you? I mean, really? (It's ok Connor- if your only hope for friends is little gophers that carry little machine guns then good luck,) but really? GET A LIFE
Whew. I need to take a nap after reading that! Let's look back at it for a moment. Ignoring the aspersions cast on my manhood, I'm kind of confused about this blood stuff. What the heck is this about my "fear of dying with a little blood leaking from your body?" Huh? "The disease you have that makes you keep bleeding without your blood clotting?" I honestly had no idea that i suffer from hemophilia. The things you learn from hate mail.
Am I a fan of "make believe gophers that carry a machine gun?" Of course. It's an axiom of teenage guyhood that small woodland creatures carrying assault weapons are cool. On the Coolness Scale, "make believe gophers that carry a machine gun" are only a single level below "microwaving a Cup Of Noodles full of gasoline and watching what happens."
"I'd get rid of that chicken if I were you so you don't have to worry about dieing from chicken scratch (ha ha, good one huh?)" . What? If anybody can shed some light on the humor behind "chicken scratch", I'd appreciate it.
What a lovely response. It truly made my day, what with attempting to insult my manhood and lifetime achievements while simultaneously inferring that I have hemophilia and hope armed gophers take over the world. Also, after reading this upwards of eight times, I THINK that the writer is implying he hopes I get killed by a chicken.
I'm going to print and frame this.
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Oh really? My bad. Ya your right- I guess I could have used better vocabulary for you- how about a stuck pig? Ya! Perfect! Your the kind of person who is fed up with yourself and who can't help but make yourself look like a douche bag whatever it is that your trying to do to graduate from girlhood to boyhood, and even more harder for you, manhood. It is also apparent that your too afraid to fight because of the fear of dying with a little blood leak from your body. I'll bet you've never fought for anything in your life, by the way. Plus, with the disease that you have that makes you keep bleeding without your blood clotting, even if something like a chicken does scratch you, you can't do anything about it and a stuck pig is a perfect name for you! (I'd get rid of that chicken if I were you so you don't have to worry about dieing from chicken scratch (ha ha, good one huh?) Might as well because one of those chickens obviously is out to get you if it got into your house in your front door) Are you a fan of make believe gophers that carry a machine gun? What does the word HOPE supposed to mean int that picture? I'm guessing your hoping that gophers take over the world with little machine guns or something to protect you? I mean, really? (It's ok Connor- if your only hope for friends is little gophers that carry little machine guns then good luck,) but really? GET A LIFE
Whew. I need to take a nap after reading that! Let's look back at it for a moment. Ignoring the aspersions cast on my manhood, I'm kind of confused about this blood stuff. What the heck is this about my "fear of dying with a little blood leaking from your body?" Huh? "The disease you have that makes you keep bleeding without your blood clotting?" I honestly had no idea that i suffer from hemophilia. The things you learn from hate mail.
Am I a fan of "make believe gophers that carry a machine gun?" Of course. It's an axiom of teenage guyhood that small woodland creatures carrying assault weapons are cool. On the Coolness Scale, "make believe gophers that carry a machine gun" are only a single level below "microwaving a Cup Of Noodles full of gasoline and watching what happens."
"I'd get rid of that chicken if I were you so you don't have to worry about dieing from chicken scratch (ha ha, good one huh?)" . What? If anybody can shed some light on the humor behind "chicken scratch", I'd appreciate it.
What a lovely response. It truly made my day, what with attempting to insult my manhood and lifetime achievements while simultaneously inferring that I have hemophilia and hope armed gophers take over the world. Also, after reading this upwards of eight times, I THINK that the writer is implying he hopes I get killed by a chicken.
I'm going to print and frame this.
Join our VIP Club by becoming a follower and receive the latest news, exclusive hookups, and backstage passes! Offer is limited time only. Some restrictions may apply.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Lost in hypotheticals: Who would you take on a deserted island? [Ryan]
A few weeks ago, I wrote an editorial about not wasting time, about finding time in your college years for the things that really matter.
Somewhat ironically, I wrote the entire thing while watching a marathon of "Lost."
For the longest time, I was content with other TV shows. Watching Jack Bauer save the world every week was sufficient for my mind, even if he never used the bathroom or exhibited any kind of normal human function other than grimacing slightly every time he got shot in the chest.
It’s one of those shows you simply can’t just stop watching.
I’ve recently gotten into the show, which, for those of you who haven’t seen it, is about a group of improbably good-looking people who end up stranded on a mysterious island.
(By “gotten into,” by the way, I mean, “become obsessed to the point where my Facebook relationship status should say, ‘in a relationship with "Lost"’”)
The fifth season ended earlier this semester, leaving my questions unanswered and my imagination running rampant. My questions things like these: Why is the island so hard to find (Maybe it’s because the island is only there if you believe in it, like Santa Claus or global warming) and what is the creature they call the monster?
And of course:
Who would I like to be stuck on a deserted island with?
The last one is a valid question, of course; the applications are many and the likely affective scenarios myriad. Who might add some hope, flavor or protection during the lonely days on a deserted island?
President Obama: If I was stranded with the President of the United States, especially our current one with his near religious following, the civilized world would waste no time rescuing us. Forget whatever harm his debilitating economic polices can do to already ravaged economy — they might even send an aircraft carrier to pick us up.
Jack Sparrow: We all know Jack would probably spend the entire time frolicking on the island drinking some sort non-alcoholic beverage, so of course I would join him in his good clean mayhem. Maybe, after fourteen Doctor Peppers, we would sing “A Pirate’s Life For Me” while dancing around a campfire.
Optimus Prime: If we’re allowing fictional characters, by the way, into this scenario, then of course we can allow Optimus Prime. I’m not sure what his practical use would be, honestly — but come on! He’s Optimus Prime! He wouldn’t be too much use in fishing or gathering wood, but you’d definitely be safe from any island-dwelling Decepticons.
Edward Cullen: The arrangement would be utterly perfect. First, he wouldn’t have to eat, so I could eat all the meager food. And speaking of food, he is so perfect he could probably conjure up a four-course meal by simply breathing on the sand. Lastly, if something ever happened to his food-producing ability, I could simply — in an act of poetic justice lauded by males everywhere — eat him.
Chuck Norris: Do I even have to explain myself?
Problem solved.
Somewhat ironically, I wrote the entire thing while watching a marathon of "Lost."
For the longest time, I was content with other TV shows. Watching Jack Bauer save the world every week was sufficient for my mind, even if he never used the bathroom or exhibited any kind of normal human function other than grimacing slightly every time he got shot in the chest.
It’s one of those shows you simply can’t just stop watching.
I’ve recently gotten into the show, which, for those of you who haven’t seen it, is about a group of improbably good-looking people who end up stranded on a mysterious island.
(By “gotten into,” by the way, I mean, “become obsessed to the point where my Facebook relationship status should say, ‘in a relationship with "Lost"’”)
The fifth season ended earlier this semester, leaving my questions unanswered and my imagination running rampant. My questions things like these: Why is the island so hard to find (Maybe it’s because the island is only there if you believe in it, like Santa Claus or global warming) and what is the creature they call the monster?
And of course:
Who would I like to be stuck on a deserted island with?
The last one is a valid question, of course; the applications are many and the likely affective scenarios myriad. Who might add some hope, flavor or protection during the lonely days on a deserted island?
President Obama: If I was stranded with the President of the United States, especially our current one with his near religious following, the civilized world would waste no time rescuing us. Forget whatever harm his debilitating economic polices can do to already ravaged economy — they might even send an aircraft carrier to pick us up.
Jack Sparrow: We all know Jack would probably spend the entire time frolicking on the island drinking some sort non-alcoholic beverage, so of course I would join him in his good clean mayhem. Maybe, after fourteen Doctor Peppers, we would sing “A Pirate’s Life For Me” while dancing around a campfire.
Optimus Prime: If we’re allowing fictional characters, by the way, into this scenario, then of course we can allow Optimus Prime. I’m not sure what his practical use would be, honestly — but come on! He’s Optimus Prime! He wouldn’t be too much use in fishing or gathering wood, but you’d definitely be safe from any island-dwelling Decepticons.
Edward Cullen: The arrangement would be utterly perfect. First, he wouldn’t have to eat, so I could eat all the meager food. And speaking of food, he is so perfect he could probably conjure up a four-course meal by simply breathing on the sand. Lastly, if something ever happened to his food-producing ability, I could simply — in an act of poetic justice lauded by males everywhere — eat him.
Chuck Norris: Do I even have to explain myself?
Problem solved.
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