Before I can relax in my anti-orthopedic but oh so comfortable chair, I must complain about one thing.
What is it with guys and their gadgets?
Do they feel as if their gadgets are an extension of themselves. That this gadget that they gently fondle and place close to their hearts, nestled in their jean pockets, expresses their true inner self which no other person can see. So what does it mean when one's, say, hypothetically speaking here, cell phone, has a large screen, or is, for example, razor thin, or wide and thick, or short and sweet... Is this the new kind of overcompensation of undercompensation? What does it all mean? What about camera's... Whoever thought guys, men, the macho iron pumping male, would one day be boasting that there's is smaller! Or can store more pics? Or has more megapixels? Is this what our life has distilled down too. I remember a time when people classified themselves by the books they had read, museums that had been too, theorems that they proved. Look at us now, we have miniscule phones, credit card thin cameras, and the only truly redeeming gadget out there, massive monitors. What has our American world come too. I swear, one day I will see this commercial ... There will be a slick Italian playboy in a black shiny expensive European car. He is enticingly hugging the seductive curves of a windy desert mountain road. He guns the sleek car, mercilessly shifting gears as he turns in and out of the curves. Suddenly, he reaches an expansive plain of endless golden sand and drifts the car into a dangerous 360 spin. The doors decompress, and then begin to hinge open like lifting dark wings. Inside, we briefly glimpse a mahogany interior and a man with his hand brazenly gripping the gear shift. He is languidly seated in soft leather. Soft supple creme leather. Smoky cool fogs breathes out and within mere seconds, heats up into nothingness in the hot desert air. The man slowly steps out of the car. He is dressed in a clingy black spandex suit and wearing wrap-around designer sunglasses. From within his tight spandex jump suit there is a small lump. It begins to ring. He reaches into an invisible slit in his suit and pulls out the world's smallest phone. It it the new mini midget springular XI768X10^-4 model. Its has over 25,000 available features, including electric shock therapy. The phone is the size of almond. Shelled. He puts the phone to his ear and answers in his deep sexy accented voice. The sounds fades out and in bold appears the words, Springular. Anytime, Anyplace, Ready for you, Right now. The audience, that would be you and I, sit back in our comfy lazy boy chairs and feel a little disturbed, a little violated. Yet, as the commercial plays again later on in the night, we think, I need that phone. Now.
What is it with guys and their gadgets?
Do they feel as if their gadgets are an extension of themselves. That this gadget that they gently fondle and place close to their hearts, nestled in their jean pockets, expresses their true inner self which no other person can see. So what does it mean when one's, say, hypothetically speaking here, cell phone, has a large screen, or is, for example, razor thin, or wide and thick, or short and sweet... Is this the new kind of overcompensation of undercompensation? What does it all mean? What about camera's... Whoever thought guys, men, the macho iron pumping male, would one day be boasting that there's is smaller! Or can store more pics? Or has more megapixels? Is this what our life has distilled down too. I remember a time when people classified themselves by the books they had read, museums that had been too, theorems that they proved. Look at us now, we have miniscule phones, credit card thin cameras, and the only truly redeeming gadget out there, massive monitors. What has our American world come too. I swear, one day I will see this commercial ... There will be a slick Italian playboy in a black shiny expensive European car. He is enticingly hugging the seductive curves of a windy desert mountain road. He guns the sleek car, mercilessly shifting gears as he turns in and out of the curves. Suddenly, he reaches an expansive plain of endless golden sand and drifts the car into a dangerous 360 spin. The doors decompress, and then begin to hinge open like lifting dark wings. Inside, we briefly glimpse a mahogany interior and a man with his hand brazenly gripping the gear shift. He is languidly seated in soft leather. Soft supple creme leather. Smoky cool fogs breathes out and within mere seconds, heats up into nothingness in the hot desert air. The man slowly steps out of the car. He is dressed in a clingy black spandex suit and wearing wrap-around designer sunglasses. From within his tight spandex jump suit there is a small lump. It begins to ring. He reaches into an invisible slit in his suit and pulls out the world's smallest phone. It it the new mini midget springular XI768X10^-4 model. Its has over 25,000 available features, including electric shock therapy. The phone is the size of almond. Shelled. He puts the phone to his ear and answers in his deep sexy accented voice. The sounds fades out and in bold appears the words, Springular. Anytime, Anyplace, Ready for you, Right now. The audience, that would be you and I, sit back in our comfy lazy boy chairs and feel a little disturbed, a little violated. Yet, as the commercial plays again later on in the night, we think, I need that phone. Now.
posted by Shady at 10:55 PM
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