mill any one

mill any one

click.

The flint sends a few harmless sparks into the dirt, but man threw not the tool in anger. Man tried again. He did. And he did. Try, he did. Then, after an astonishing bout of perseverance, fire erupted, ignited, warmed the cave, cooked the food, served as the passionate primal bloom that lit early lovers, our forefathers getting it on in the firelight.

click.

Little baby steps, man made in those woolly wilds. But being man and all, he aspired to greater accomplishments. Something that urged him to push past his latest, greatest achievement (nothing less than the invention of fire) and shoot for something more vital (nothing less than the concept of shooting fire up the ass of a warring tribemember). Experimentation with bone and wood yielded the first weapons. Stones were used to grind foodstuffs, dyes of the earth were stroked and painstakingly etched for centuries onto cave walls. Man had somehow now invented language, or discovered it by the grace of God. With the ability to better communicate with one another, man was laid open for its rape by technology, the eighth deadly sin.

click.

Pulleys and levers helped to build the pyramids, the wheel aided in transportation development, the genius behind rollers existed somewhere during this era in which man constantly topped himself (and others) with breakthrough after breakthrough. When electricity made its way into our homes, it was all over. The many who still lacked it wouldn’t see the danger. They’d sweat in their hotbox homes and eat dinner by candlelight (or supper, when the sun was still up). Getting water from a well, that was fine. No need to call the neighbors, they were in hollerin’ distance and you were always invited anyway. Those with the electricity, well –they started discovering that a bunch of neat things could be plugged in to this current of liquid goodness, and somehow — that translated into a mission. To make life as easy as possible and to have the neatest stuff. There are the partakers of the stuff, and then the makers of the stuff. As long as there is balance, the newest invention — free enterprise — would make all our dreams come true. Would that “just getting by” were enough for the ever-dynamic man animal.

click.

You know, people laugh at the Amish, driving in buggies and eschewing television. The Luddites were a little more anti-social in their reckoning with technology, but sometimes enough is enough. Whatever their reasonings, they’re all probably a lot better off. We are dynamic human beings that are adaptive to our environment. If we stay in it long enough, our environment adapts to us as well. Each step forward, a quicker way of heating food, a better way of storing diapers, newer, better, faster, shinier.

click.

Orville and Wilbur laid their faces against the warm engine casing as the metal began to contract. Click. Click. They were breathing very quietly. Orville looked up at his brother. “This changes everything,” he said.

click.

Mmmm. Ohhhh. Ooh, open the vent a little more. Oh man, oh yeah. Winter air! That is cool! Ohhhh. Man, how did we ever live without this?

click.

No more potlucks or Sunday gatherings. Cancel the gay socials and don’t count us in for baccarat on Tuesday. A parade of electronics became the stoic entertainers that kept people sequestered and clustered around phonographs, radios, televisions and video games. Friends and neighbors were seen in passing, walls of picket or wire going up as the behavior continued to be encouraged by the demonic spirit of technology. Nothing evil is ever ugly. Man got a good deal when our collective soul was sold to the technogod by Benjy Franklin, who should never be forgiven for fucking around with kites during storms. Sure, others had gone before him in the quest to understand the mysteries of science — but few had such a resounding case of good timing. It was negotiated as such, that much good would come of this spirit — leading man to create that which benefits others and himself at the same time. But the payment, rendered in full, would be taken off the back end and ever-so-slowly throughout. Fine, said Ben.

click.

The spores that can exist in the common air conditioning duct have been known to cause cancer in lab rats.

click.

A radio that you can wear on your head. How convenient.

click.

Adaptive lifestyles and environments. Kitchen helpers, banking friends. Pocket calculators, digital watches. Voice recognition. The concept of the drive-thru underscores the idea that technology is wooing man into isolating himself from others as much as possible. Homes have become entertainment centers, rumpus rooms have become home offices. Credit card numbers in the PC database make banking a do-it-in-your-undies sort of experience. KFC delivers. Just about everything you own has a clock on it but you still don’t know what time it is. Have you looked at yourself in the mirror recently? Is there anything that you see that wasn’t there yesterday? Could it be a cold gray sheen, starting from your temple and dripping down the side of your face? Run motherfucker! You’ve seen the coming of the steel dawn and it’s staking out a claim on you.

click.

You flick the switch and light the bowl. A whirring noise lets you know that the mechanism is on. When the smoke begins to billow inside the chamber, a push of a button sends a thin stream of stinky-sweetness shooting into your waiting mouth. Cool. You don’t even need to take a hit anymore.

click.

Ergonomics. The Art Of Atmosphere. Adaptive Environments. Designed to make you feel more “human”. But we’re as human as we can possibly be. We’re better than human, actually. We have corrected eyesight by way of laser surgery and possess nicer buns courtesy of liposuction. The vast, leather plain that is the passenger seat of a Jeep Grand Cherokee Deluxe cups your butt and caresses your sides ever so. Let the technology reach out to you, embrace you, surround you with sound, encapsulate your view, bury you in its waves of excellence. This office furniture set will lower employee medical claims of carpal tunnel syndrome and eye/neck strain because it’s designed to adjust to each individual, thereby assuring them of a perfect union of biology and architecture.

click.

Call disconnected. The server is probably overloaded, my e-mail will have to wait. I’d call, but my long distance service isn’t hooked up. I do not know my address, I live in a ghetto. But it’s okay, because I work from home and KFC delivers. So does Papa John’s. I get my news from associated press wires, purchase airline tickets via Eaasy Saabre and only leave the house to go directly someplace else. I do not know my neighbors, I do not care to meet my neighbors. I have a crossbow on the wall in case I have to meet my neighbors against my will. There is nothing within walking distance, so strolls are out of the question. All I need is right here, in this house. I never have to leave, and am all the better for it. Strap my audio-visual light and sound synchronizer on and forget that there’s anything going on outside.

click.

Marching along merrily, millions of inventors and con artists attempting to advance mankind while under the spell of the technogods, who encouraged us with mighty pats on the back. To the moon and beyond and within, artificial organs and a new way to remove wax from vinyl couches. The internet opened up a vast new frontier upon which a new Manifest Destiny was declared. Coinciding nicely with the coming of a new millennium and a strange sense of a grasping motion being made by mankind. An effort to find grounding, to find a part of this rock that isn’t spinning out from underneath us. Years of creation and not a single one noticed that we had a potential Year 2000 problem that could conceivably cripple the entire planet. In a micro-nutshell, the Y2K Bug involves electronics that have a clock embedded in the program. The date format on these chips recognize eight characters or 12:16:66 for example. When January 1, 2000 rolls around, literally trillions of electronic devices will read 01:01:00.

Click.

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