OMG, I haven’t signed up with [insert social media here] yet… LOL
I used to fill up my life with the music of conversation, the sharing of food and lots and lots of actual music.
Things are different now: two Twitter accounts, two Facebook accounts, one blog, one personal website and one business website. Plus a laptop that uses an external raid drive, backed-up by a huge nuther external drive, plus a Blackberry (that’s almost given up the ghost) and another phone for when I’m in London or Ljubljana.
Before I went properly mad, I wrote a pome, based on the wonderful Julia Donaldson’s A Squash and a Squeeze. I just found it again, so here ’tis:
A middle-aged couple
Led a middle-aged life –
All big-city jumble: much trouble and strife.
A wise old man heard them grumble and groan,
“Our lives are a squash and a squeeze
Oh wise old man won’t you help us please?
Our lives are a squash and a squeeze.”
“Both get an iPhone,” said the wise old man.
“Both get an iPhone?” What a curious plan.”
Well, it took ages to decide on a ring-tone to ring,
Plus many others for messages and t’ings.
The address book wanted info, like star signs and G-maps,
It even wanted cookies and downloads and new apps.
The middle-aged couple cried, “Where are we at?
We were backward before and we’re back before that.
Our phones need re-charging like Henry’s six wives.
There’s not enough room in our lives.”
And they said, “Wise old man,
Won’t you help us please?
Our lives are a squash and a squeeze.”
“Sign-up for Facebook,” said the wise old man.
“Sign-up for Facebook? What a curious plan.”
Well, it wanted pictures and profiles and passwords and gewgaws,
And told them each week they had signed up for new laws.
The poor couple cried, “Oh get me a Carlsberg!
Life was buggered by Apple and it’s twice that by Zuckerberg.
The phones keep on ringing (depending on the batteries).
And our friends are now idiots, sending likes like they’re flatteries.
And they said, “Wise old man,
Won’t you help us please?
Our lives are a squash and a squeeze.”
“Log-in to Twitter,” said the wise old man.
“Log-in to Twitter? What a curious plan.”
So they Tweeted and Twatted (up to one-forty characters),
All kinds of drivel, but like they were important dicta.
Descriptions and pictures of what they’d had for their tea,
And clever bon mots, smart ripostes sent with glee.
Regurgitated tweets from the great and the good,
Bounced from their i-Phone to the global neighbourhood.
Until the poor frightened couple cried, “Stop, we insist!
It was crazy with them, but it’s ape-shit-bongo-crazy with this.
And even though the Fry-boy says it’s possible to thrive,
There’s not enough room in our lives.”
And the exhausted coupled said, “Wise old man,
Won’t you help us please?
Our lives are a squash and a squeeze.”
“Queue up for an iPad,” said the wise old man.
“Queue up for an iPad? What a curious plan.”
Eventually…
So they stroked it and waved it and made it do tricks.
It wouldn’t do Flash, but still it looked slick.
It brought them the ‘paper’, a digital broadsheet,
Even though they never read past the weather, TV or bullshit.
The garage band program promised their own Blue Suede Shoes,
Without the need for knowledge of rhythm or blues.
And the traumatised couple said, “Wise old man,
Won’t you help us please?
Our lives are a squash and a squeeze.”
“Throw them all out,” said the wise old man.
“But then we’ll be back where we first began.”
So they dropped the iPhones straight down the toilet –
One wouldn’t quite go so they took a plunger and forced it.
They both closed their Facebook and Twitter accounts –
Telling nobody there… it’s the lack of thought that counts.
Finally they took their iPad and smashed it…
And smashed it and smashed it and smashed it and smashed it…
And they looked at their lives and took a deep breath,
“Just look what we have – it’s all here, right now.”
“Thank you, old man, for the work you have done.
All that stuff made an iCloud that blotted out the sun.
There’s no need to buy stuff and no need to need,
There’s plenty of stuff in our lives.”
And they had real, face-to-face conversations.
And original thoughts.
And learned to play a musical instrument.
And read books.
And laughed and laughed at that idiot, Stephen Fry.
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