|Make it so!|
This SHIT has GOT to go! No, not some mobile-homes, tex-mex and cell-division kind of shit! I'm talkin' 'bout mobile-phones, text message and cell-digital kind of shit?
Save for a little divine intervention from the space brotherhood, or a surgical 'kill-shot' from an X-99 class solar flare, hand held digital communications devices will continue to eviscerate the soul of our society, encouraging us to march lockstep to consumerisms relentless drum beat. The whole thing has happened so damned fast, "Hey Apple, Blackberry, LG and Sony, I want my species back!"
An open letter to humanity:
"My dear brothers and sisters of techno culture, I fear I've lost you, you've been absorbed. You've acquired everything you could have ever hoped or wished for, so what can I possibly offer you to counter 'paradise'?"
Enter The Digimons
Who are "they", these aliens among us, these cyber-body snatchers, inhabiting the ranks of the digitally un-dead? "They" are "them", or The Digimons, real life western avatars of the dreaded Japanese Digimon.
The Digimons are, or should I say were, human beings who have allowed this tsunami of new digital techno-toys to overwhelm and occupy their hapless and anemic souls. "They" are those contented individuals who stagger through the streets holding cheap chinese devices in the palm of their hand, with eyelids at half mast, functioning in a semi-conscious dream state known as RTM (rapid thumb movement).
|(RTM) 'Rapid Thumb Movement'|
For those of us who either don't own, nor have little use for these insipid devices, to watch the transformation of society and the caustic effects it's had on our culture has been palpably horrifying.
Yet while peering into this why-fi world of spiritual decay, I also observe how there remains a small but noticeable resistance alive and still thriving, living among and within the ranks of The Digimons themselves. You know who you are, I need not call you out by name, it's those of you who vocally disapprove of these devices, yet use them nonetheless, endlessly apologizing mollycoddling and gently tapping at these digital distractions, yet justifying them as being 'a necessary evil'.
Well let me tell you this: There's a special place in the bardo for you, just dial 1-800-purgatory 4-U. You have sealed your own fate, and it is YOU who will forever be doomed to live alongside the Tylers, Dylans, Camerons, and Codys of life. Acting as courtiers to facilitate their every capricious whim and bratty little desire. History, my half-hearted friend, will not be kind to you and your ilk. For you have brought them among us! The Ascended Masters in the higher overtones of the twelfth dimension will judge you harshly, for having appeased and facilitated the will of The Digimons.
Age of Revealing
The Digimons, these half-breeds, have waited their whole lives, and probably many past-lives, to finally experience this epic turning point in the destiny of humankind. Now with a few swipes of ones credit card, a person can absorb themselves in a glistening digital pseudo-reality, allowing them to be anywhere they want to be, except of course here. As a Digimon, you may exist nowhere, yet never now, here!!
A fate worse than Digimon: 'The Others'
Being absorbed by The Digimon is not a spiritually enviable position, yet it's still somewhat better than the alternative, that of becoming one of 'The Others'. You know, 'The Others', those who've had little phones surgically grafted to the soft cartilage around their ear. But weep not for these diminutive souls, these wanker-phone drones were probably born with little more than an animal consciousness to begin with, so their passing into the nexus of The Digimons won't be missed all that much, fret not over their eternal absence from the vibrant thrusting and pulsing matrix of our conscious breathing universe.
|Sad, but still beautiful|
Sadly though, I miss the Women most of all, in a world where Tess of the D'Ubervilles has become debased as Britney of the Blackberries, the hue of a harsh blue-screen light reflected upon the visage of a once beautiful woman has become, for better of for worse, 'the new look' of Digimon Zombie-chic 2.0!
Unfortunately our Women are the most vulnerable to the persuasive nature of The Digimons reality too, due to their natural heightened aptitude for advanced communication skills. The Digimons provide them with an opportunity to fulfill this desire, much as the rat is given the opportunity to pull the lever endlessly to obtain that sumptuous pellet of food, only in this case, the reward is 'gift-wrapped' as an instant text message, Facebook update, Trick or Tweet, YouTube upload, or iTunes download.
A Great Plague Cometh
The Digimons, like any plague of locust, have now expanded vastly in numbers, to the point where those who have not yet been absorbed into The Digimon continuum are looked upon with suspicion and even hostility. But not unlike the ravenous locust, their end draws ever nearer though, as they collapse under the weight of their own insatiable appetite, they destroy the ecosystem they inhabit and thus the energy and nourishment they require to proliferate.
I remember how it used to be, in the beforetime, back in 'ye-olde nineties' before our paradise was lost, in that golden era of humanity which briefly preceded this 21st century invasion. I remember how we humans used to do silly things like make eye contact with one and other, way way back in those salad days of yore. In those naive and playful times, we were at least somewhat aware of our external surroundings and the needs of our fellow man.
|Watch your step bug brain!|
Now The Digimons walk with their determined zombie-esque cadence through our cities and boroughs, staring blankly into and beyond their digital devices of dystopia, stimulating the immediate gratification centres of their insect brains forever and a day, bypassing the cozier magnocellular pathway, and instead taking the optical TGV along the parvocellular pathway, straight to pleasure ghettos of the left-hemisphere of the brain.
The Digimons are now passing recklessly through our reality like some appallingly absentminded strain of asian drivers, cast out and swiftly banished from the Shambhala driving school. Whatever can stop them? not me, nor you. but they will be stopped, I assure it. So patience my friends, humanity's dignity will once again be restored, and when that time comes, remember to ask not "for whom the iPhone ring tones, the iPhone ring tones for thee".
Dirty CT April 2012