With all the drivel and vitriol technology spreads, it puts a real (Sara) smile on my face when I see it used for something honest and pure and good. And smooth. So, so smooth. This week, new Twilio employee Michael Selvidge, with a friend, created Callin’ Oates, the Emergency Hall & Oates Helpline. Works like this:
Call 719.26.OATES (62837)
Press 1 to hear One on One
Press 2 to hear Rich Girl
Press 3 to hear Maneater
Press 4 to hear Private Eyes
I did it (I did it, I did it, I did it), I did it in a minute and it make-a my dreams come true. Gosh, it’s refreshing — rejuvenating, even — to be so thrilled by a meme. I don’t care how much irony played into the app’s going viral; I’m just glad it got to me. It’s on my speed-dial list (I can’t resist).
Scientists. Smart, but not always so savvy. I recently found myself somehow on the mailing list for the newsletter of the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences. If your organization goes by the acronym PNAS, ought you call your weekly dispatch the Tipsheet?
A few months back I wrote 
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Yeah, this tea pot featured on HazelandMare.com is awesome. Obviously. You want to leave a comment that says so? Sure. Knock yourself out. Doesn’t really get us anywhere, but always nice to hear a chorus of good cheer. But I’ll never understand what compels people to make comments like this:
Who gives a fuck about your brother? How is this pertinent or enriching in any way? I wish I could regain the thousands of cumulative seconds I’ve lost reading meaningless commentary online (which is why I typically avoid comment sections all together … unless I’m really avoiding work) — don’t you, Pointless Commenter, wish you’d spent those precious moments saying something that wasn’t inane?
I don’t mean this as a personal attack. I mean it as a general attack. There’s no going back now, I recognize that. But once upon a time we spoke to each other in person and tried to avoid the vapid sputterings that brought conversation to an uncomfortable standstill. Imagine the faces of your friends when you’d say something stupid. The staring. The cough in an awkward silence. Conjure and reflect: The whole internet is staring at you. The whole internet just cleared its throat.
Oh, and not for nothing, but whose brother wasn’t really into A Team as a kid? Newsflash: No one’s.
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Posted in Information Stupor Highway
Tagged comments, internet, mr t, stupidity