I regularly receive emails from unknown individuals who wish to be my “friend” on Facebook, whatever that means. They remind me of people who go to orgies, something I don”t indulge in although I”m hardly a prude. I am told that hackers make millions by advertising their products”mostly porn and drugs”on Facebook pages. It’s called freedom of speech. Some speech. No one knows anymore what’s real and what’s bogus, except that the government is eavesdropping on one’s Oprah-like confessions and sexual preferences.
Young people growing up Tweeting to each other will remain tongue-tied and unable to express the simplest of thoughts””like, like, ah, like you know, ah””and it’s just as well. Confessions and self-absorption are unpleasant traits, so the more inarticulate the great American public becomes, the better off the rest of us are. The ceaseless, unchecked sharing of opinions online is the logical endgame of a society no longer ashamed of anything. The slovenly emotionalism of Oprah has replaced privacy, good taste, reticence, and other such restraints people of my generation grew up with.
I count myself lucky not to have to answer a mobile telephone whenever some blabbermouth wants to talk. I can”t think of anything more intrusive than a ringing telephone while sitting down to lunch or, worse, in the midst of lovemaking. Remember that awful scene when Paris Hilton, while being serviced by some lowlife, heard her mobile going off? “Don”t answer it,” said the lowlife. But she did while continuing to be serviced. As Frank Sinatra would have said, “There goes a real classy broad.”
I only use the Net to file my copy, read Taki’s Mag, and receive emails. Nothing more. I buy books in bookstores, use a travel agent to book my flights, and I don”t advertise my moods or movements for the world to know. Throw away your contraptions, Taki’s Mag readers”you have nothing to lose but lots of useless invective.
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