Okay, no thanks on the underwear, but it rhymes, eh?
Is it just me, or is the whole “sharing” thing just getting a wee bit out of hand? Wanting to copy Spotify, that through Facebook “shares” the songs you’re listening to, NetFlix wants to have everyone checking out what movies everyone else is watching.
What’s next, what beverages you have in your fridge? What type of light bulbs you’re using? (LCD, Halogen, Incandescent, Fluorescent?) Come on, fess up!
Is it just me, or my “generation,” the 55+, AARP, 99ers, or whatever we’re called lately, or is the whole “express yourself” stuff rather superfluous? I suppose it’s just a fun way for people to enjoy connecting. Perhaps what gets me isn’t that the stuff is shared, but that it’s pushed-out-shared by social networking sites who want to blast out every personal aspect of our lives. I love Spotify for music, but I don’t feel the need for everyone to know what I’m listening to with every second hand of the clock. Does anyone really care?
I suppose when I was younger I would have liked to shoot a new song I was diggin’ out to my friends. Then again, when I was a kid, there were no iPhones or Blackberries, or digital music at all. We had things called “albums” back then. Scratches and all, they had great sound. Now we have every song in the universe at our fingertips. Ask, and you shall receive. I’ve got to admit it, I like it.
Switching gears, how about a good book? I just finished reading a new science fiction book by the late author Michael Creighton called Micro.
He died before he finished it, but another great author, Richard Preston finished it for him. Preston was probably best known for his novel “The Hot Zone” about Ebola, or some similar horrible disease. I’d have to check to be sure. But back to Micro… Imagine nanometer sized robots zipping around doing nasty things and we can’t even see them. Did I mention they can swim in our bloodstreams? This will become a reality one day, and hopefully it will be used for good, not evil. But when there’s a way to use technology in sinister ways, we usually do. Such is the way of mankind.
Time for a cup of coffee under natural sunlight. By the way, I’m not currently watching a movie, but I am listening to Natalie Cole on Spotify. I’ll get back to Michael Creighton’s Timeline after breakfast. (Just in case you felt the need to know.)
~ Les
Food for Thought (for our seventies)
When do our self-inflicted eating restrictions end?
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I think there aught to be a declared age, starting with us boomers, let’s make it 70, that when we hit that age, we get to eat whatever we want. Milkshakes for breakfast, pizza every weekend (for those that love it as much as I do, and are 70 or older.) Real butter, more than they say we should have. How about a small lake of it in the middle of our mashed potatoes, made with cream, not skim milk. Going to a movie? Forget the “small” popcorn, no butter. Make it a bucket for every qualifier, and a regular Dr. Pepper to wash it down. None of that artificial stuff. (Don’t forget my discount.)
You’re up late watching a movie and you’d like to have some nice healthy grapes. No problem. Wait a minute… you’re diabetic and should limit yourself to six small grapes? No thanks, a bunch will be just fine.
I mean, really… what are we trying to do… extend our life to 92 instead of dieing at the wee early age of 87? I don’t drink, I don’t smoke, I don’t do any drugs other than the ones my doctor tells me to take.
Give me a break. Just let me “live on the edge” in my seventies and (hopefully) eighties, have my cake (chocolate on chocolate please) and eat it too.
Anyone else feel the same way? Let’s hear it. Maybe we can start a movement.