Posthuman Blues

I have an apparent heightened sensitivity to the mass media. I can't tolerate radio or TV; both make me acutely uneasy. I'm not implying that it's a physical response, although sometimes the intensity of my reaction rivals a literal allergy. The single exception is NPR, which I can take in small doses before rewarding myself with a week or so of "media sabbatical."

My idea of ultimate stress relief is to be set loose in a room full of TVs with a baseball bat. Or maybe a gun, like Elvis. (Not having fired a gun in my life, I don't know if this would have the same satisfying effect that bashing a screen with a bat would certainly produce. I'm guessing it would be OK.)

Interestingly, I'm immune to the Internet. I hate spam and pop-up ads as much as anyone, but they don't piss me off the way TV commercials do. And while I really can't stand pervasive and unnecessary public cell-phone use, I think I'm getting used to it; I don't have to like it, but it doesn't bother me as much as it used to.

Other things I don't like:

1.) Driving. I have a vague fear about driving. Nothing terrible or disabling, but I secretly wish for matter-transmitter pods or at least ubiquitous mass transit.

2.) Elevator buttons. Why do they make them so difficult to press? You really have to mash your finger against them at the proper angle. This is a very minor but potential annoyance.

3.) Magazines about music. What's the point? They all look and read the same and they're all about the same bands/entertainers/whatever. Yes, there are exceptions. But not many.

4.) Maya Angelou. I have a deep-rooted, largely unspecified hatred of Maya Angelou.

5.) Trendy young "literary" authors. There's never a shortage of these. Their books are praised as unparalleled genius, prominently displayed in bookstores, and inevitably compared to Thomas Pynchon and/or William Burroughs. And they're all about the same thing: befuddled neo-Bohemians taking drugs and getting into confused relationships.

This list could go on forever...