These days, when we find electronics, we smash them
open, pull the guts out with out teeth. Wires become
rope and twine; the hard parts, armor-plating. This need
keeps all of us connected in hunter/gatherer mode. I think
it was Brenda who found the iPhone, still linked to the ghost
of internet by its guts replaying the same message over:
"Change your Facebook profile to a cartoon character
from your childhood. The goal is not to see a human face
on Facebook until Monday, December 6th. Join the fight
against child abuse! First, pick your character, then cut
and paste it to your status. Invite all your friends & family
to do the same... (*tik*) same.... (*tik*) same... (*tik*) same...."
Brenda still doesn't understand why I wasted a good bullet
blowing the thing to whatever afterlife waits for junked things,
but I like to think of it it as helping just another suffering victim
of a dead culture: too weak to live, unable to adapt, unwilling
to accept survival is all we have left. If you're not strong enough,
you die. Me? I like to think that single bullet was a kindness...
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