electron spankograph aka “Operator, get me Newburry 427.”

Too much data. I’d been working on a documentary for awhile about a local artist. My producing partner however hasn’t been working on it for an exceptionally long time. Certainly, the smoke had been blown but the end result showed no fire at all. One of the main issues were communicating with the subjects. Initially that wasn’t my gig but I want to finish; So now it is.

Somehow my logic kicked in to reveal yet again: People put too much info on the damn internet. In 0.83201 Goog-a-secs, I not only had the exact home address of the subject but when the property was purchased, from who, shoe size, dog’s last bath, etc. This detail was a bit much and I’d imagine a d00d as old as he wasn’t taking the time to blather on about his private details as such. Now I just need to figure out what size knife I should have when I ring the doorbell.

I have been ruminating on communications for the last few weeks. I have been leaving my phone on no-ring/no-vibrate lately and it’s like having a monkey off my back. The bombardment of technological leashes have accumulated a great repulsion in my behavior. There was the time, in my youth, where you only had the pony express, carrier pigeon and talking drum (Slight exaggeration). I’m post-switchboard but I certainly had to learn how to write a proper letter in school. The phone was 1 line and no answering service. It was a premium to have an operator break through a line for an emergency call. Now I have an EVO and the thing does everything but pay its own bill.

With the options on communication, you get less. Prospects insulate themselves between spam filters, avatars, and direct to voicemail. Individuals who call themselves friends electronically parade their narcissism instead of direct-individual contact. It’s not that things are all screwed but it’s like finding a hammer and using it as your go to tool without exception. A hammer is a bad way to brush your teeth. I’ve probably already babbled about this in this blog in the past.

Anyway, the ringer’s off. Leave a message. I’ll get back to you with a cogent response.

Work in progress. Debauchery break.

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