Is This Anything?
Page 26
What are you going to do without your pictures?
Are you going to describe what you saw?
That doesn’t work.
We don’t talk to people without phones anymore.
That’s why it’s called an iPhone.
It’s half myself, half phone.
That’s a complete individual.
Uber
I don’t even know what the purpose of people is anymore.
I think the only reason people still exist is phones just need pockets to ride around in.
I used to think Uber was on my phone so I could get around.
Then I started thinking,
“Maybe Uber is on my phone because that makes me take the phone with me,
because THE PHONE is using ME to get around…”
Who’s really the Uber in this big prostitution ring?
I’m the little bitch that carries the phone.
The cars are the hos picking up strangers off the street.
And the phone is the Big Pimp of the whole thing.
Telling the drivers,
“You just get who I tell you to get.
I’ll handle the money.”
Talking Faces
Talking is too strenuous for us.
Facial expressions and hand gestures.
Sucking air in. Blowing it out.
Pretending to be interested.
Is there anything more exhausting?
“Oh my god, I can’t believe that happened.
That’s what they said?
What is wrong with people?”
Looking at people’s faces up close is uncomfortable now.
“I think the problem is we need to go over there and tell those guys…”
Why would I want to get information from a face?
When I could get it from a nice clean screen?
Nobody wants to see lips and teeth and tongues all moving around.
Gums and eyeballs.
There’s crust and goo.
A missed shaving spot.
A little lunch remnant in the teeth.
(covering face with hand)
“Just send me an email about this, would you?
I can’t do it anymore.
Your face is the worst news I’ve had all day.”
Text Commercial
Text is the best communication form we’ve ever had.
Remember when we first got text?
Not really.
I can’t remember either.
I mean, I know we have it.
And I know we didn’t used to have it…
But I can’t remember how we got it.
Did they tell us we were getting it?
Was there an announcement?
Did they run commercials?
I think I would remember that…
“Like some human contact,
but kind of had it up to here with people?
Try text.”
“Need to get someone some information,
but don’t want to hear their stupid voice responding to it?
‘Oh yeah, you’re right. That is a good idea…’
You need to get yourself some Text and Text it.”
Text
We like to text.
We like to get text.
We like to say “text.”
“Text it.
Text me.
I need a text!”
Anything we say with the word “text” in it, we’re already agitated for some reason.
“I never even got a text.”
“Do you even look at your text?”
“I just emoji’d you a monkey and a birthday cake.
I can’t believe you misunderstood that text.”
Just the “K”
We like text because it’s fast, easy.
Not fast enough apparently, for some people.
People now instead of OK, they just text me the “K.”
What micro fraction of a second did you save there?
What do you think, you’re efficient?
It’s one letter.
You think you’re going to end up with two and a half free minutes at the end of your day?
So you can watch a YouTube video of skateboarders banging their nuts off a railing?
Somebody texted me “TY” the other day instead of “Thank You.”
“I’d like to bang your nuts off a railing, TY.”
That’s not a real Thank You.
Ghosty Dots
We’re so anxious to get the next text they give you those
three little ghosty dots
to tell you it’s coming…
“Oh, we’re cooking up a good one for you.
Wait until you see this…
You are not going to believe what this guy is about to say.
I can’t show it to you yet, we’re still working on it in the Text Machine.
But it’s going to be a beauty.
You can see the pistons pumping…”
Then sometimes you get the ghosty dots and no text.
What happened there?
Is that like someone coming up to you, (finger up) and then going…
“Uh… Never mind.”
(walks away)
Email/Post Office
Email works for us because the true message of every email is,
“Obviously, I could have called you and chose not to.
I decided, I only want to hear my half of the conversation.
This is what I have to say. I think we’re done here.”
* * *
Why is the word, “mail” even in email?
Is there any similarity between email and whatever the hell is going on in the Postal Service?
One is a digital, fiber optic, hyperspeed network.
The other is this dazed and confused distant branch of the Cub Scouts,
bumbling around the streets in embarrassing shorts
and jackets with meaningless patches and victory medals.
Driving 4 miles an hour, 20 feet at a time on the wrong side of a mentally-challenged Jeep.
* * *
They always have this emotional/financial meltdown every 3 to 5 years,
that their business model from 1630 isn’t working anymore.
I can’t understand how a 21st century information system
based on licking, walking and a random number of pennies
is struggling to compete.
Makes no sense.
They always push the postmaster general out on TV to explain their difficulties.
He’s all freaked out.
Rings under his eyes, no shave, pulling all-nighters.
“We can’t keep it up much longer!!
The cost of the infrastructure is killing us!
Looks like we’re going to have to go up another penny on the stamps!!”
We’re all sitting home,
“Dude, relax.
We don’t even know how much a stamp is anyway.
44, 53, 62
Make it a buck.
You’re going to get there.
If it ends up you have some money left over, buy yourself some pants and a real car.”
I would say to the post office,
“If you really wanted to be helpful to us,
just open the letters.
Read them.
AND EMAIL US WHAT IT SAYS.
We’ll give you a penny for each one you do.
Since that seems to be
a lot of money,
in Your World.”
First Camera Phone
I remember very clearly when I first heard
that they were going to put a camera in the cell phone.
I thought,
“Camera? I’m on the phone.”
It’s like a toothbrush popping out of your TV remote.
“Yes, I need both these things.
Why are they teaming up?
What can they do together?”
So, when they come up with these things like the camera in the cell phone do they ever go,
“Hey, before we put this out to every human being all over the world…
Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“Of course, it’s a good idea. What do you mean?”
“I don’t know… I was just wondering…
You don’t think there’s any chance that this one feature all by itself,
could result in so many useless pictures, video,
posting, liking, not liking, comments and clapbacks that the entire essential life force of the
human race just drains out like a puddle of piss by the side of the road and we never
accomplish anything significant ever again?
You don’t think there’s any chance of that, do you?”
“No, I do not.
Nor do I think that every restaurant dinner will end with some picture bully going,
‘Okay, everyone.
Picture.
Need a picture.
Got to get a picture.’ ”
“Why? We didn’t have a good time.
I don’t want to remember this.”
And let’s make sure we get the least phone-fluent person in the area to take the picture.
Someone old, nervous, clumsy, confused or dim-witted.
Someone whose fingers do not receive or respond well to brain commands.
Can’t hold things, see things, aim things, press things.
Someone who, the second they’re handed the phone
it somehow slips off camera function, and they can’t get it back.
“Hold on… Wait… Can somebody get it back on the camera? I don’t know… how to…”
Let’s get them.
So we can be standing here even longer with fake frozen smiles
and your arm around someone you would never touch in any other social situation.
Mom Gang
I can’t take the middle-aged moms doing gang signs in the group shots.
You’re not in a gang.
Cut it out.
Gangs are not looking for 46-year-old suburban women
that drive mid-size crossover SUVs,
with a lane departure warning alert system.
“BEEDEEP”
“Uh-oh, drifting…”
Other gangs will see you as vulnerable.
We have picture addiction.
Sometimes I want to go back to the old flip phone.
One of those old-people ones that they advertise on TV
with the giant buttons like floor tiles.
Those phones should just have two huge buttons:
YOUR KID
and
AMBULANCE.
They don’t need the numbers.
Golf Whisper
Golf is a very whispery sport.
The announcers whisper.
“Alright, Jim, he’s going to try and get the ball in the hole.”
The caddy whispers to the golfer.
The crowd whispers.
The clubs wear wool hats so they don’t make any noise if they bump into each other in the bag.
It’s because there’s always rich people in golf.
Playing, watching.
So everyone’s,
“Quiet. There’s a lot of money around here.”
I can watch like the last few holes of a big tournament on TV.
I like when someone’s whole life comes down to one miniature golf putt to win it all.
You’re at home going,
“I once made the same shot with a windmill and a tunnel down to a second level.”
Other Whispers
Then as soon as he hits it the crowd starts yelling,
“Get in the hole!”
They yell at the ball.
In swimming, nobody yells at the water,
“Let him get through you.
Two hydrogen. One oxygen. Keep it together.”
Certain things make people whisper.
Rich people make people whisper.
Black people make people whisper.
“Who do I talk to?”
“Talk to the black guy.”
“Who?”
“The black… guy.”
Tipping makes people whisper.
“Did you tip him?”
“I didn’t! You’re supposed to tip?
I didn’t know. Oh my god. I can’t believe I didn’t tip.”
Physical attractiveness.
“Did you see that woman?
No? Oh my god. Are you kidding me?”
Serious diseases.
“Do they know what it is?”
“They’re not sure.
But it could be something.
They don’t know.”
So, if you’re a rich, hot black guy with the coronavirus
and you leave a tip before putting,
you can hear a pin drop.
Tattoo
The tattoo trend seems like the last gasp of a dying culture, doesn’t it?
So bored now, we’re just doodling on ourselves.
Our whole life just another tedious required class.
I guess people feel a tattoo expresses their boldness in some way.
Same with piercings.
I don’t know…
(holding eyebrow)
“You feel a little threatened by this, don’t you?
You’re wondering what’s going on inside my head, aren’t you?
Because I’ve nail-gunned my face, eye, lip, ear.”
And of course,
no one’s wondering,
no one cares.
You know what I’m wondering about you?
“Are you done with the ATM?”
“Are those two seats taken?”
And, “Are you pulling out of that spot?”
That’s all I’m wondering about you…
We’re Living in Filth
What about those street-cleaning machines you see all the time around the city?
With the giant blow-out hair brush at the front?
Does anyone think those things are actually cleaning the street?
Do they think they are?
Or are they just laughing their asses off inside there?
“Hey, clear all the parked cars out of the way, everybody!
So we can come through and make a really loud, annoying hissing sound
followed by a little piss trail of water out the back
which completes our ‘Doing absolutely nothing’ process.
You are not going to recognize 9th Ave.
after we get all the wrappers and pizza crusts
pushed into the corner at the bottom of the curb.
You’re going to think you’re in an architect’s rendering.
Strolling through a modern wonderland of the future…”
* * *
When you step in gum on the sidewalk
and that gum sticks to the bottom of your shoe for a couple blocks,
whatever that gum picks up
is the only cleaning of anything in New York City.
We’re living in filth.
We don’t even care anyway.
NYC Awning
Here’s a sentence no one has ever said
in the history of New York City:
“Hey, maybe we should get a new awning?
The one we have is holding 6 pounds of bird crap,
has 12 rips in it,
11 areas where the metal frame is exposed.
Maybe it makes sense to invest $200
into the entire public appearance of our business?”
“Nah, I say we keep this one.
It’s a better way to silently express how much we hate ourselves
and everyone that’s stupid enough to come in here.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Let’s leave it.”
The NY Faux Courtesy Jog
In NY,
if a pedestrian is crossi
ng in front of your car,
and the light changes,
and it’s actually your turn to go,
they won’t hurry up.
They will raise their elbows, as they walk.
So it appears that they’re moving faster, but they’re not.
It’s a “faux courtesy jog.”
It’s just to give you a visual sense
of what it would look like,
if someone were to be in a hurry.
But they are not.
In My 60s
I love being in my 60s.
I want to be clear about that.
It’s my favorite decade of human life so far.
When you’re in your 60s,
and someone asks you to do something,
you just say, “No.”
No reason.
No excuse.
No explanation.
I can’t wait for my 70s.
I don’t even think I’ll answer.
I think you just wave when you’re in your 70s.
That’s what I’ve seen those people do…
“Hey, you want to check out that flea market…?”
(Walks away and just “waves it off” without looking back…)
I like this time.
I don’t want to change,
grow,
improve myself,
expand my interests,
meet anyone
or learn anything
I don’t already know.
I don’t lie in restaurants anymore.
“How is everything?”
“I don’t like it here.”
“Would you like the check?”
“No. I intend to press charges actually.
This is outrageous. You must be shut down.
Don’t touch these plates.
This is a crime scene.
I’m going to put some yellow tape around it.”
I Don’t Turn Around
I find I do not like to turn around anymore to see something that is behind me.
If I’m going this way, and someone wants me to see something that is that way,
and they’re all excited,
“Jerry, you’ve got to see this.”
I disagree.
I don’t feel old.
I don’t feel tired.
I’ve just seen a lot of things.