Road Apples by Tim Sanders
July 23, 2012
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The Electronic Jungle Consider the title of a July 17 article on the CBS Charlotte (NC) website: “Study: People Who Are Constantly Online Can Develop Mental Disorders.” The study of “more than 4,100 Swedish men and women between the ages of 20 and 24,” conducted by a research team at the University of Gothenburg, revealed that, not surprisingly, a large percentage of them were loons. The study also attributed much of this lunacy to the amount of time spent in computer-related activity. I’m not surprised, although I must confess that when my friends and I were between the ages of 20 and 24, most of us were loons, too. And that was long before the advent of home computers. To observe firsthand the toxic effects of computer and cell phone addiction, I recently visited Mr. Darwin “Parsnip” Gates, who is well known in his community for his obsession with things electronic. Darwin lives in Cherokee County, but asks that I not give a specific address due to privacy concerns. There was a surveillance camera mounted not far from his porch light, and a thin, sallow-faced fellow opened the door a crack when I knocked. I told him that I wanted to interview him for a local newspaper. “Password?” he asked. “I beg your pardon?” “Password, password, PASSWORD! No password, no access!” “Okay then,” I said. “How about ... uh ... Euclid?” “Got to be at least seven letters,” he said. So I changed my password to Erasmus and he opened the door. “Come in quick! The porch is full of bugs,” he said. “I don’t get many visitors since my girlfriend moved out,” he added. Then he handed me a pair of rubber surgical gloves. “Just a precaution against viruses. They can cause your entire system to crash.” At that point he glanced at what appeared to be a stuffed cat sitting on the couch. “Isn’t that right, Maurice?” he asked. I complimented him on his cat’s remarkably lifelike eyes, but all he said was “Cut and paste, cut and paste!” Then he began waving his arms and shouted “BUGS! STINKING BUGS!” But the spasm passed, and he inquired: “So where is your iPod?” When I told him I didn’t have one, he began to fidget. “So ... so how do you expect to interview me if we can’t text?” I suggested that instead of texting, we just sit and chat for awhile, and this seemed to calm him. “CHAT? Oh yes, let’s chat. When it comes to chat room chatting, I can chat up a storm. It’s been that way ever since my girlfriend Louise left and took–” Here he stopped and shouted “BUGS” again. “Why did she leave?” I asked, hoping to get at the root of his obvious mental problems. “She didn’t like it when I called her my little Laptop Louise, and also she didn’t like any of my friends. SAY, would you like to meet some of them?” I told him I’d be more than happy to meet his friends some day. He checked to make sure I was wearing my anti-virus gloves and then led me to a computer. “See there? 9,742 very close Facebook friends as of 4:12 this morning. The last one, that one there with the bikini and the snake tattoo is from Guam, and she says she loves to travel and meet men. She has a parrot named Cliff and three goats, and she plays the ukulele and says she can pole dance like Madonna even if she does have a wooden–HEY. DON’T TOUCH MY MOUSE! NOBODY TOUCHES MY MOUSE!” “I was only going to enlarge the photo. By the way, is there a photo of your ex-girlfriend on there?” I asked. Darwin shook his head. “She unfriended me last month, and so I deleted her and all the photos I had of her in my pictures folder. What’s one friend, more or less, when you got nearly 10,000?” Then he took a violent swing at another invisible bug and choked back a sob. “Do you ever date, or socialize with live people?” I asked. This seemed to cheer him a bit. “SOCIALIZE? I socialize on the Internet, and I do virtual dating, too.” “How about sports, or other outside activities?” “Why? Are you wanting to sell me tickets to something or other? ‘Cause if I wanted to, I could get them cheaper online.” “No. No tickets. Just curious. What do you do for recreation?” “I play Solitaire and Spider Solitaire and InkBall and Hearts and Dwarf Bowling and Spit in the Ocean and several others. I also just finished my vegetable garden and built a pole barn on my Facebook Farmville game.” “And music? Do you go to concerts, or dances?” “I listen to iTunes, and sometimes I watch YouTube concerts and it’s just like being there. Only smaller, of course.” “So surely you must go out and shop sometimes, at least to purchase electronics and software?” “HAH! I do all my shopping online. I have two very special friends named eBay and Amazon.com! Never have to leave this room.” “And groceries?” “I go to my iPhone and order pizza. They deliver.” I asked if he ever just took a leisurely drive in the country, but that only got Darwin started on the subject of drives and hard drives and gigabytes. I finally interrupted. “It sounds to me like you’ve pretty much isolated yourself here with– ” “SHHHHH!” Darwin said, putting a finger to his lips. "They’re out there!” “You mean the bugs?” I asked. “No, not bugs. NOT BUGS! The hackers are out there! They climb onto the roof after sundown. They’re after my Social Security and bank account numbers. Last week I saw one hanging from that old oak tree, trying to look inside the window with those little black binoculars. He was disguised as a raccoon, but he didn’t fool me. Not me! I called the police, but they said they weren’t coming out here anymore, and if I didn’t stop calling they would ask the judge for a warrant.” Darwin asked if I’d like a slice of pizza. He said it was left over from two nights ago, and that it was still good, mostly. I thanked him, but told him I had to go. I was sure I had more than enough information. At the door he handed me a crumpled slip of paper. “That’s your new password. You’ll need it when you come back to chat some more.” There was nothing written on the paper, and I decided against a return trip. |