I’m a little uneasy about how reliant I’ve become on high speed internet access. I’m reasonably sure there are many people out in cyberspace who spend far more time in the binary ether than I do, but I’m not a lemming, and the fact that I have a callous on my mouse hand worries me. Internet addict”¦the term kinda has a negative feel to it, huh? Sounds vaguely pathetic and sad.
Today I was daydreaming about a time when we’re stable enough to purchase a home, and the thought occurred to me that I would feel reserved about buying a house in a neighborhood that had slow internet access. And forget buying one that had no high-speed access. I wouldn’t even go on the tour, even if they had cookies and punch.
Internet access has also become a deciding factor in hotel reservations. If the hotel website fails to list internet access as an amenity, or even if they list it but the wording about prices is ambiguous, I’m compelled to call them and investigate the internet status.
I think the internet is actually a symbiotic being cleverly disguised as a large network of computers who derives sustenance from users. The monitor in front of you is actually a mouth, and it’s feasting on your soul right this second. Either that, or some nefarious world conquering villain uses the internet as a way to invade our minds. While we’re playing Sudoku or downloading pirated movies or watching porn he simultaneously penetrates our psyches and steals our ambitions; specifically, our ambition to go outside and socialize with other human beings. He plans to enslave the human race not through a violent upheaval, but rather by rendering our bodies so transparent and sensitive from artificial light that we’re unable to go outside and stop him without bursting into flames like a coven of vampires.
So I guess it’s up it to me to stop this dastardly plan. Well, sit tight, hold the fort and keep the home fires burning. And if you don’t hear from me by dawn… call the president.