It’s Friday and there’s an annoying little mosquito buzzing around. You are scanning your WordPress reader and he keeps posting stuff. Doesn’t he know one post a day is enough? Why does he keep posting more stuff?
Does a mosquito only bite one host and then die? No. A mosquito might live forty days. A mosquito will bite until she is full.
That’s a bad example. I’m not female and I’m not a parasite and my readers aren’t victims of uninvited crashers of summer barbeques.
I’m more like the guy standing on the corner with leaflets, trying to hand them out to as many people passing by as possible. Some will take one just to appease me. A few will be genuinely interested. Most will lower their heads and ignore me. Some may directly tell me to fuck off.
But I have a message. Or should I say, messages? I wish I could talk to each of you one-on-one. Via a phone call or a coffee shop meeting. A personal chat is most often genuine. To deeply communicate one has to wear one’s heart on one’s sleeve.
That’s hard to do online when one knows that Google and the NSA are storing and aggregating and cross-referencing everything that one types.
Even if we were to enjoy a beer at a backyard barbeque, can we be sure our cellphones aren’t sending our conversation back to big brother? Can we be sure that a drone is not keeping an eye on us at eighteen thousand feet? Can we be sure a robotic insect or some kind of nano thing is not recording?
Not in this world. Everything is suspect.
For all you know, I could be an agent of some unknown branch of the government. I could be an artificial intelligence. I could be a hundred different people working from a click farm in India. I could be an alien that has inhabited a human body. I could be a Terminator robot from the future.
I could be Jesus himself.
Fantastical, but as Occam’s razor states, “Simpler solutions are more likely to be correct than complex ones.”
Therefore, it is more likely that I am like dandelion chaff awaiting a strong wind. When the weather changes I will be gone.
Maybe we’ll meet in the gulf stream.