‘Top of the mornin’ to ya’...as they say, or, more to the point, used to say. These days the top of my morning is actually lying semi-comatose, still in bed, in the midst of a surreal hallucination. Usually these blissful moments are interrupted by a robo-call, then perhaps another one, and so forth. I interpret the purpose of these calls as nothing more than affirmations to remind us that we really don’t matter at all.
As the new year begins it might be a good idea to remind ourselves how corporations have surreptitiously, yet conclusively dominated our lives. A few weeks ago while watching a popular network television show I counted 50 yes...that’s 50 commercials in an hour. They come at you faster than a speeding bullet, and before you know it your head is spinning more rapidly than you can scroll past these inanities with your DVR remote.
Moreover, there has been a discernible spike in pop-up ads on our smart phones. Just reading an article is now prone to diversions and promotions ad infinitum. They seem to come out of nowhere, and are intentionally disruptive, hoping to lure you away into the vortex of things in which you have a nothing to negative interest. Make no mistake. The corpocracy has delved into the minutiae of our lives and has left no doubt who is in control.
You can try to escape, but good luck. Go to CNN: Commercial. MSNBC:? Commercial. Fox:? Commercial! ESPN: Commercial! Most of them are reminding me of new afflictions and acronyms for diseases that I’ve never heard of or don’t exist in the first place. ‘Hyperhidrosis disorder?’That’s people who sweat too much. Hmmm. Do they mean people who live in the hyper-humid regions of the world where releasing bodily fluids through their pores maintains their health? One can’t be sure. But indubitably, something’s available for everyone in this potpourri of remedy, reminding us that disease is our birthright, while health and salubrity can be purchased.
The only reprieve from this incursion of commercial cacophony is Public Television, and a visit to Sesame Street…not a bad move at that. After all, it’s always a good idea to keep in touch with the alphabet as one moves into the latter stages of life. .
The other day I walked into my local CVS store, one of a handful of the remaining pharmacies around. It was so cold I could see my breath. I inquired at the counter, wondering if there was a problem with the heat. “No” I was told: “The problem is that we cannot control the temperature in the store...The thermostat is operated somewhere across the country, no doubt a cost saving measure. You think this is cold, you should have been here when we opened up this morning!” Meanwhile the workers shuffled around the aisles in their mid-winter jackets ostensibly inured by it all, or simply afraid to make a fuss.
Still, the robo-calls keep coming. Not even a blocking program such as “Nomorobo” can stop the incessant squeal from alerting me to the being and nothingness of it all. Ah...but there’s always the joy of releasing ones smart phone from its station and checking one’s latest e-mail. This can be done quite quickly after mastering the technique of the nimble-finger scroll and recognizing that 99% of the messages can be annoyingly, yet adroitly deleted. Moreover, the finger scroll can be useful in prepping for orgasmic activity later in the day. Therefore, it should not be summarily dismissed with the bulk of other useless messages.
Of course, the downside of releasing my phone into the light of day is that it will now be thanking me for choosing Marriott Hotels, a trip to Tahiti or perhaps the wonder of complete silence on the other end...as I bewilderedly realize that I‘ve been spammed again.
Checking your e-mail can be considered for some a worthy, workout at the gym, By assiduously practicing over a few years one can learn to scroll and extinguish endless streams of refuse posing as correspondence in a matter of seconds. It is also a good habit to regularly clean out your trash and junk folders (though I’ve yet to discern the difference). Leaving these vital digital binders unattended may come back to haunt you some day, as has the garbage that is currently enveloping the earth...upon which I now write.
There was a time when all the information, solicitations and communications affecting our lives were buffered by time. Instant access is not a bad thing in and of itself. What matters is the content of that access, and it is not a stretch to claim that content to be toxic, far beyond a reasonable doubt. Starting one’s day in the midst of an avaricious, electronic bombing raid cannot bring on the best of the sunrise.
As one would expect, penning this tribute to my morning rituals I have just been invited to the Grand Viagra Ball, taking place in some con-guys (or gal’s) wallet, still bamboozling its hapless victims not yet seasoned in the ways of this digital world, and all its ‘top of the mornin’ glories!
~Marc Twang
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