Posts tagged ‘Life’

The Digitally Dilapidated

During our stay in a four star hotel at the beautiful istrian beach, with warm, clear waters and a great view on Rovinj, I noticed something.
Parents, kids of all ages, entire families, couples, all just watching/reading shit of their phones, tablets, and in one case, a laptop even.

At breakfast, lunch, dinner, beach, pool, wherever.
“What did you see during your vacation in Coratia?”
“YouTube, Facebook and Instagram”
Fuck you.

Here, my conviction, that smartphones aren’t made for us, got it’s final veneer. Perhaps some future generation that is truly capable of multitasking might take advantage of this stuff, but it is not for us.

Instead of spending time with their families, their spouses, their parents, their siblings, their children, or just plain taking in the vistas, nature, clean air and relative silence, people are staring at their phones! Instead of getting away from the shit that they are confronted with daily at home, they take it with them EVERYWHERE, and then wonder, why they do not feel relaxed.
I had people at the hike through the Plitvica Lakes Nationalpark, looking at their phones, occasionally looking up, going “wow” snapping a crappy cellphone picture and then continue typing/reading shit.

For Fucks Sake! LIVE IN THE REAL WORLD! Not the virtual world. Converse with one another, and get more substance out of fewer connections, instead of more connections with less substance.
Moronic cancers of human (de)evolution.
Take care, and put away those fucking devices, make a scheduled “social media (half)hour” once a day, and other than that, no social media, no texts/messages. Same with news. Just calls.
A.
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Rancid site

My finger hovers over the blue square with the rounded corners and the white lower case f in it. A red dot is superimposed onto the top right corner of it, a white number in it.

Facebook. Notifications.

I find myself hesitant to open the app.
Reluctant to.
Sure there are friends of mine, friends half the world away, friends I made through Facebook. People I care for and would miss if I were to leave the site.

But there is also all the murk.
The garbage rabid people on the left and the right, the uneducated with their battlecries to educate oneself. All the wasted hours trying to beat (metaphorically) some sense into people, people who do not understand basic human conduct, basic science, basic logic, or anything else that a toddler learns, right after pooping into a potty.
The anti science brigades with their shit flinging antivaxxers, noGMOers, AntiNuclears and other subcreatures living on a flat earth. The lobotomized hordes of migrant hating nationalists, and their immense library of bullshit, as well as their equally radical counterparts, who believe violence and wanton destruction is justified in the name of fighting ‘oppression’.

All the data collecting sites and hidden apps, aggregating every detail of your oh so willingly and openly shared private information and life. All the fraudulent advertisements that are strewn into the newsfeeds, as if they were genuine posts by your friends/acquaintances, just to misguide you.

At times I have come to believe, that lower case f stands for ‘fuck you’.
Uttered with such a cold distance and in a lack of compassion and humanity, that it doesn’t even deserve capitalisation.

fuck you

My finger moves away.
I don’t want to open this.
I don’t have enough curiosity to see what those notifications are about.
I have better things to do.
Maybe later.
Maybe never.

Take care,
A.

World Wide Warning

An acquaintance of mine got a passive aggressive note passed to him by a stranger in the tube. A world wide warning. That the internet is evil and that you should appreciate live music, paintings in galleries and conversations in the flesh.
Bullshit.
I have a magic device in my hands as I write these lines, that allows me to listen to obscure African metal bands I could only listen to live if I invested a ludicrous amount of money (and time) to travel to some African country or another, while chatting with people on the other side of the globe and looking at paintings from the great masters, which I – again – would have to spend ludicrous amounts of money (and time) to gain access to. Carrying on my kindle an entire library worth of books, with no added weight. All while riding the metro. Or bus. Or sitting on the toilet.
Whoever thinks that only live encounters with art and people are worthwhile must lead a pretty boring (and/or expensive) lifestyle. Heading from encounter to encounter, with vast stretches of nothing in between.
Hey Mr. In-the-flesh, take your world wide warning and take it with you in your warm filthy hipster holes. I believe I have seen more than you did.

Take off the nostalgia goggles of times before you were born, those times had their shit sides too. (Coldwar, anyone?)

Take care,
A.

Nihilistic children…

I was at the playground with my son the other day, and while playing with him I overheard the most nihilistic thing I had ever heard. Especially from a kid.

Nothing is really fun or beautiful

(I am paraphrasing, as it needed translation)

With a kid like that you don’t need to save for college, but for therapy. The boy was around five or six years old and just blurted that line out. On the fucking playground. 

What is that kid’s outlook on life? Starting fires in daycare a year down the road because only the flames provide some warmth? Holy shit. 

Drag the kid to the therapist, medicate him before he’s full on psychotic! What are those parents reading him for bedtime? The collected works of Lovecraft?? This kid needs some serious help!

Thankfully no arson was committed that day. No sacrifice to the deep ones. Just playing on the frakking playground. 

For now. Because remember, nothing is really fun our beautiful. 

Take care (of your psycho kids),
A.

Love?

In the beginning man and woman met outside. While hunting. While foraging.

A clout over the head, drag her to the cave, bang the ever living daylight out of her until your doomseed spawns out of her. 
You know… 
Love.

Later men and women met in the social constructs beset on them by class. Arranged marriage, basically the same as in the beginning, without the clout. 
Later in time, they courted one another, talked, fell in love. Doomseed, yada yada yada.
You know…
Love.

In the mid to late 20th century that entire crap got too time consuming so the local classifieds popped up.
Men and women filled pages of the newspapers in small print, advertising oneself like some overripe fruit on a farmersmarket five minutes before they close for the long weekend. 
You know…
Love.

That was too time consuming too after a while, so some rabbi came up with speed dating. 
Your entire life, your achievements, hopes, dreams, aspirations, character, interests, and what not, distilled into a ten minute conversation with one another, and then go over the entire list – again.
You know…
Love.

Time is money, you don’t have an entire evening for this! 
Pour a condensed vision of that distilled “You” into an online profile and off you go!
You know…
Love.

But even that was inconvenient, since we didn’t have it on the go. So some shit like tinder, really was inevitable. Condensed distilled you, photo, swipe. 
You can do it on an elevator, riding the subway, taking a dump.
You know. 
Conven…err…”Love”…

And what did I read in a newspaper just the other day? 
THAT was too stressful for some New Yorkers! They OUTSOURCED their tinder-ing to someone else who is doing the swipe based fuck selection for them.
You know. 
Love?

It kinda reminds me of the entire Farmville crap. On Facebook, a place for the condensed distilled version of you that you choose to represent, you could play a game. Farmville. 
You know.
Fun.

That wasn’t good enough for people. So they HIRED others to play the game for them. On their Facebook. 
As them.
So some underpaid poor sods in a clickfarm somewhere in southeast Asia played as white middle class Facebook people, for some extra grain or geese. 
You know.
Fun?

This is in no way different. 
Something that should be deeply personal – fun and relaxation in one case, fun and romance in the other – something that is as convenient as fuck, something that can be done on the go, outsourced. 
“I have neither time not nerve for fun, relaxation, games, love, or procreation. Let someone else do it.”
You know.
“Life”.

If your life style (or “work-life-balance”) doesn’t allow for playing a fucking game, or the convenience based swipe partner selection, trust me, you won’t have time for your partner in the unlikely chance you ever even found one. Ultimately losing them again.
Which you probably wouldn’t even notice until they send you on mandatory vacation…
You know.
Shitty life.

Take care.
A.

Crappy Birthday in September

​http://www.smartbe.co/

Introducing Smartbe, the smart stroller for dumb people who shouldn’t have children, let alone be left alone with them.

This thing can be controlled via app, on your “I’m-a-certified-moron”-watch or your smart phone. It then will follow your every move, always staying a certain distance away from you, so you can jog (an activity for idiots, especially on paved ground), or take calls and stroll around like a squirrel on speed (always shadowed by that stroller which is creepy), hunt down, mercilessly attack and catch imaginary critters in the park, or just walk without touching the darn thing – god forbid, you could form an emotional bond with the small entity inside (hey you handsfree-bimbo, now you can reacher over and “touch” ME!)

The fondle-a-stranger-friendly distance to stroller and child, the emotional cold so to say, is continued in other features of this space age stroller: 

¤In case you are so distanced to your parasitic offspring that you walk away from the stroller/pram with the baby inside, you can get an alarm, on your phone! I’m sure it will not be tripped by the twenty people who check if the child is alright while you let some dude ‘plow your fields’ around the next bush. 

¤Your child might be chilly or exposed to too much wind/sun? No problem, just close the canopy on the little fucker from the app, no need to get too close!

¤Curious how your child is doing? Forget bending over and looking, you might catch a whiff of those nasty baby smells, just look at your brat through the camera! Best part, your child won’t ever even know you just looked at it – it will remain frightened, crying and desperate for some warm human interaction. 

I must admit, the seatheater and the bottle warmer are innovative ideas for a pram, but the rest?

Look people, life ain’t that hard: if you have kids your pre-child activities are restricted, or put on hold for a few years. You wanna jog or fondle strangers in the park? Do it while your partner has the kid, or a nanny, or a grandmother (they usually beat other people to spend time with their grandchildren). 

But, do not take them with. 

Especially in a fucking pram that is (will be) presumably powered by the same kind of Lithium Ion batteries that lit up a few “hoverboards”. 

There are easier, less idiotic and cheaper ways to kill your baby. Or give it up for adoption.

Or better yet – do not have a child, your genes deserve no chance of being passed on.

Crappy Birthday.

Roadrage 09. Sept.

They made this.
This exists. Outside. On the road, not a training course for kids.

On a bicycle lane, exclusively for cyclists.

Let me rephrase that: They made real markings for cyclists!
The one group of traffic participants who frequently ignore traffic lights, traffic signs, and, most importantly, any and all markings! Who think traffic laws are loose guidelines or recommendations and safety gear is for loosers who actually value life and health.

They have shat out taxpayer money, to paint teeny-tiny cyclist markings on a bicycle lane, to make the one group of traffic participants that could only be more dangerous if they rode bikes made out of solid plutonium, feel safer.

Why?
Why on earth would you do useless crap like that?
What will be next? Signs for blind people not written in Braille? “If you’re blind, please look out for traffic!”

I would not put it beyond these stupid people. 

After all, those must be the same Schmucks who came up with the flashing red lights and high pitched beeps when the subway doors close, to deter people from jumping in at the last second, after thirty or fourty years of not having this. Did it actually stop anyone from jumping in at the last second?
NO!

Will the bicycle lane markings achieve anything except wasting taxpayer money?
NO!

I wish I could grab power in this stupid country, and mop the floor with all those mouthbreathers from the political extremes left and right. There would be no refugee crisis, just a welcome. There would be no road markings for cyclists, just hefty fines for driving on the road without a licensed vehicle, without safety gear, and no license…

Take care, and dodge the two wheeled menaces,
A.