More Thoughts about The Future and What It Means To Be Living In It by Cam
The other day I was wrong about men eating peaches. It was a real crying shame.
And I’ll tell you why.
I had been telling everyone about this peach theory I had. I had been blogging about it, twittering about it, podcasting about it. I sent my mother a letter – registered mail. I told people I knew, and I told people I didn’t know. Librarians, cashiers, your mother.
I yelled about it in the City Square for 19 hours, taking only 5 minute breaks every 2 hours. A man from Guinness was there adjudicating. He said it was the longest peach-related rant they had ever recorded, but he would have to check if that was actually a category.
The point is, I told a lot of people the wrong thing. I told them we were not living in the future, because a man could not watch another man eating a peach on demand, yet a man could.
Either I apologise to each of them, or I change the parameters of the experiment to compensate for the deliciousness of peaches and the mind-blowing aesthetic qualities of the peach-eating process.
This morning I thought, “If we were truly living in the future, I could watch men setting carrots on fire. On demand.”
And can I?
Where are Child Protection Authorities when we actually NEED them?
Where is Dr. Bong, friendly neighborhood bong salesman when we actually NEED him?
Like, oh. my. god.
I think your crush is on this guy:
I want those last two kids to star in a science fiction show where he plays the science officer on a spaceship and she plays a social worker who becomes entirely disillusioned by the inherent failings of the system and keeps an increasingly bitter diary which will upset her own daughter one day while she is packing away her late mother’s things.