We get calls all the time from low-life scammers who have just enough of our information to start a conversation, but not enough to separate us from our common sense. I closed down an email address when it started delivering 50-plus scam emails a day. The world seems infested with individuals willing to work hard enough to steal what isn’t theirs, but not hard enough to earn their own stuff, which in some cases would take less time and effort. Pretending to be something they are not may get them a payday in Hollyweird, but not on my Motorola.
Where were all these cretins before the information highway was paved with instructions on how to fleece your grandmother with no regrets? Sure, in past generations there were bank robbers, con artists and certified petty thieves, but it seems that today there are millions of these bottom-feeding scumbags and they all have my email address.
Our rapidly changing system of living in the 21st century forces us to put all our formerly private information in the great sucker information pond. This honey hole can be found at a well-marked exit just off the information superhighway by anyone with a digital grappling hook like a smartphone. These felon apprentices are everywhere and all over the world. I’m pretty sure they all graduated from Moonbeam Telescam University and, more than likely, stole their classmates’ lunch as well as answers to the tests, if indeed there are any tests.
On another front, self-respect has largely disappeared to be replaced by narcissistic self-absorption. Remember “portraits,” the real ones that hang in places with walk-through metal detectors? Those are pretty rare, expensive, and largely limited in exposure. One had to engage a competent artist with a proven ability to produce a reasonable and flattering likeness of their clients using only paint, brushes, and a portable surface on which to smear the paint. Now, thanks to cheap technology and a near-universal lack of self-respect, portraits have been relegated to “selfie” status. These enable the average narcissist to share with the entire world, as well as future generations, his or her extreme physical attractiveness and undeniable desirability.
Nothing is more important than images of oneself, or so it seems, and selfies probably take up more data space in the interwebs than even photos of cats or people’s meals. Requiring a background check and a license to carry a selfie stick sounds to me like a reasonable first step backward.
Marketing experts have tumbled to this social phenomenon and adjusted their ads accordingly. Realizing that their target audience has little interest in anything but themselves, they have worked hard to produce commercials for today’s humans. That’s why most ads are filled with half-second visual blips reflecting the attention span of modern humans. Scientists have proven that the ability of today’s human to concentrate on any one thing is roughly that of J. Fred Muggs on crack. (Ask a boomer about that one, and yes, Mr. Muggs is still very much alive and retired in Citrus Park, Florida.)
In the defense of the modern human, specifically those immersed in social media and popular culture and trends, their ability to make heads or tails out of a quickly changing series of scenes on TV, a computer, laptop, tablet, smartphone, or wrist TV is enviable. I can’t get focused on one image before it’s changed to another and another in a rapid-fire hodgepodge of unassembled puzzle pieces. In the end I have no idea what I just saw. None. If it’s an advertisement, it is lost on me. If it’s a television show, I’m not at home, but will be shortly, if you get my drift.
As common as all this is, I am blessed to have a number of friends whose lives are centered around others rather than themselves. These are the people who show up at your door when you are sick or grieving. They run from house to house bringing joy, help, and a loving presence to those who need it but often won’t ask. Most of these angels fly under the radar, especially when it comes to helping others, and are doing what they do because it feels right to them and for no other reason. Harpswell is fortunate to have many of them.
As I speed around the sun one more time, it is clear that, with each lap, I spend less time suffering marketers’ trendy insults and more time seeking the places where angels gather. The peace is healing. When all that is wanted from you is your company, you have come home. Home to stay.
Butch Lawson is an observer of life. He lives on Bailey Island.
