Goldilocks in Cyberspace
Goldilocks in Cyberspace
As breathlessly reported in
the new "Circuits" section of the New York Times , two twentysomething
writers named Andrew Shapiro and David Shenk were "commiserating over lunch in
Greenwich Village one day last summer" over "their problem." How sad that a
summer day in Greenwich Village should have been clouded by a shared problem.
And what was their problem? Had they both lost a parent recently? Spent their
last nickel? Found out their girlfriends had been White House interns? Been
diagnosed with cancer? No. "Their problem: In writing and speaking they spend a
lot of time in linguistic contortions, trying to explain that they neither love
nor hate technology."
What a
problem! This may well be the most boring problem anyone has ever had. (Or at
least, we would like to hear rival claims for that honor.) Still, questions
remain. Why the "linguistic contortions"? Exactly what is so difficult about
explaining that you neither love nor hate technology? Maybe the problem was
getting anyone to listen. ("Who gives a shit? Go away!") For that matter, why
do Messrs Shapiro and Shenk themselves feel such a passionate need to share
their lack of passion with others? Why don't they just continue having lunch
with each other, engaging in delightfully desultory, contortion-free
conversations, and leave the rest of us out of it?
"How do you like your new
DVD player?"
"Oh, it's OK. I neither
love it nor hate it. And what do you think of the new Windows 98 beta?"
"My feelings are mixed.
There are good things and bad things about it."
And so on, as lunch turns
into drinks, then dinner, and dusk slowly darkens the summer sky.
Or,
here's a little tip: If there's a subject on which you have no feelings one way
or another, try talking about something else! You'll be amazed how well that
can work!
But no. Instead of these sensible solutions to their
problem, the gentlemen have taken the paradoxically agitated step of founding a
group--the "Technorealists"--and issuing a manifesto about their lack of strong
feelings. The manifesto is on the Web, natch, at www.technorealism.org, but
we are so stupefied by this problem that we are unable to summon the will to
click on the link. Somebody tell us what it says. Or, on second thought,
don't.
Technorealism will be seen by history as a tragic movement. Like Goldilocks
without Baby Bear, Technorealists roam the landscape, tasting the porridge,
always finding it too hot or too cold and never just right. Their linguistic
contortions turn into bodily contortions as they literally tie themselves in
knots, their desperation for attention doing battle with their determination to
say nothing worthy of it. Ultimately they die (not of boredom: of that they're
merely carriers). Their last words are, "Honest, I wish I could persuade you
that I neither love nor hate technology. I know you find that hard to accept,
but really, it's true. Technology to me has its good points and its bad points.
It's a mixed bag. I know this is a terribly iconoclastic proposition, and
that's why I'm not asking you to believe it, I'm only asking you to believe
that I believe it. Why are you coming at me with that pillow? Urgggghhhh
..."
Technorealists Wanted
Now
here's a real problem.
Slate
is looking for a software developer,
or maybe even two, to work on various features we hope to add. Our program
manager (i.e., software supremo), Andrew Shuman, says the right candidate will
be "a C SQL jockey with two to three years of Web experience." So the first
qualification is knowing what the heck "a C SQL jockey" is. Second is a
tolerance for working with people who don't have a clue what a C SQL jockey is.
But if the idea of being surrounded by journalists, instead of the usual
computer types, strikes you as appealing rather than appalling, we'd like to
hear from you before you come to your senses. E-mail a brief note, your résumé,
and a review of any recently published book of poetry to [email protected]. Anyone who
actually sends a poetry review is automatically disqualified. Being able to
recognize when the editor is making a joke is essential, although actually
appreciating the joke is strictly optional. Faking appreciation is always, of
course, er, appreciated.
New
Pru
Prudence, our advice
columnist, has retired, and her column has been taken over by her niece, also
named Prudence. We go through this twee song and dance--for an anonymous column
written by a fictional character--to alert you to an actual new author and to
explain the inevitable change in tone. The new Prudence is younger and of a
different gender. S/he brings a somewhat different life experience to the task
of solving all your problems. In particular, New Pru is--as s/he admits--not as
well versed in macroeconomics as his/her predecessor. On the other hand, New
Pru may have deeper insights regarding marriage--having had several more of
those than Old Pru. You can go to "Dear Prudence" by clicking here. And you
can write to him/her at [email protected].
Another
plug: If you haven't tried our Web linking game, "Six Degrees of
Francis Bacon," give it a whirl. For Web novices, it's a fun method to
learn your way around. For the Web savvy (or even Web weary), it's a good way
to show off.
Frayunion
All subscribers to
Slate
are entitled to participate in our discussion forum, "The
Fray." Regular participants in the Fray call themselves "Fraygrants" and have
formed friendships that seep out of cyberspace and into real life. A Fraygrant
reunion ("Frayunion") is occurring this weekend in Seattle, featuring a golf
tournament, among other activities. Another gathering is planned for July in
New York City, with Fraygrants attending from as far away as New Zealand.
A popular Fray thread is the
one titled "Books." Readers choose a book to discuss (currently Allan Bloom's
The Closing of the American Mind ), elect a Fraygrant to lead the
discussion, and have themselves an electronic book group.
Fraygrants have even created
their own Web page, entirely outside
Slate
. Check it out at
http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Bay/2167. To get more information
about the Frayunions and other Fray activities, go there. Or, of course,
enter the Fray and
introduce yourself to the gang.
--Michael Kinsley
