Friends, there once was a time when life moved a little slower. When people still had values, and you could smoke in hospitals.
The year was 1954. Or was it ’44? You know what, we actually didn't measure time back then, so stop worrying about what year it was.
All you need to know is that things were simpler back then. We didn’t give credence to wild-hair ideas like “carbon footprints” because we were too busy tripling the Earth’s population.
We knew how to do things. We just figured it out. We didn’t have a Google—only our wits and a can-do attitude, and our servants.
Before there were memes and mashups, there was plain speak and racial slurs. People meant what they said, and did what they threatened.
It sounds so primitive now, but in the same way folks send text messages today, we’d deliver our blackmail notes by hand.
We lived without the modern-day technology of fidget spinners and t-shirt cannons—but you didn’t hear us complaining about it, because we were constantly rolling up our sleeves, and pulling ourselves up by the bootstraps, and putting on our masks to go witch-hunting with dignity.
We didn’t need The Face Book. The best way to get a friend was to be a friend. And if that didn’t work, you'd simply tie them up, usually hog tie, and gag them to keep the noise level down. We knew how to take our time with things, you see.
Sending unwholesome pictures with Snapchat wasn’t something we’d ever dream of doing because we projected our nethers off a sequence of strategically placed mirrors, creating an unequaled lifelikeness, and richness.
A streaming service was known as a urinal. YouTube was a form of contraceptive. And a selfie was, well, just what it sounds like.
If something went viral, that was not good, and you avoided sharing with friends if you could help it.
A Ted Talk was when your celibate neighbor named Ted shared his unsolicited sob stories, whimpering like a shepherd boy at the bottom of a well, a well you threw him in after you couldn’t take it any longer, only to produce an echo that arguably made it worse. To this day, I draw my own drinking water from that well.
There was no such thing as hiking poles or selfie sticks; but we made due with whips and chains.
It wasn’t easy. We didn't have pomegranates and antioxidants. 80% of the population had rabies. The rest of us carried crossbows or wore bells on our shoes.
Siri was the cute girl at the corner store. Alexa was a honey-tongued liar. And Roku was a sea nymph, the mother of my children.
This was when burgeoning America actually stood for something. And the military gave us LSD.
Our methods may seem outdated, though our lives had meaning; we lived deeply. Some of us grew fangs.
What you call Airbnb, we’d lure people into our homes with the scent of myrrh and honey. These “guests” would stay with us indefinitely, until the potion kicked in, then we'd usually breach a metaphysical wormhole, though our wormholes had worms and resembled a ditch, so we ported ourselves deeper and deeper into the supernatural aperture, developing ringworm and incredible tunnel-digging skills, eventually reaching a tangential universe known as “the dirt place.” My people worshipped me. I also called them “my subjects.”
Listen, I understand some of you may not identify with our practices, and that’s okay, it was a long time ago. I just hope you can come to appreciate the ways of old, and realize you have a lot of growing up to do.
