Posthuman Blues

One thing I just can't take: MINDLESS CHATTER. It's everywhere, like a reeking aural fog. I'm pretty adept at tuning it out but sometimes my defenses are weakened by its sheer inanity.

Have you ever stopped to really listen to the stuff people "discuss" while sipping lattes and window-shopping? It's not real dialogue; it's canned, vacuous, recursive. Eavesdropping on this prattle leaves me feeling like I'm surrounded by chittering bipedal insects that just happen to look human.

Way too many of us are addicted to this pointless facsimile of conversation. Maybe we've seen too many talking heads on local news shows and mistaken "happy talk" for the real thing. Maybe losing one's personality in endless sessions of automatized "discussion" (however superficially earnest) is merely an innocuous retreat from the stark horrors of a world still wobbling from its violent emergence into the 21st century.

Am I being elitist and whiny? Possibly. But I invite you to take up the challenge for yourself. Sit in a coffeeshop for an hour consciously listening to what people talk about, and how they talk about it.

Within five minutes you'll be searching for the lobotomy stitches.