Humanity has always been hardwired to fear … But the fear used to be of wild beasts prowling, the encroaching Visigoths, plague, world war. Now, in the pampered present, all that anxiety has to find a new focus … we have come up with … our status might be falling or — the horror, the horror! — disintegrating.
Thanks For Not Sharing, by Roger Cohen
Here’s my gripe. (Okay, I have more than one.) The sharing of one’s guts, often referred to as TMI, (Too Much Information), is a sociological plague. It’s something run amuck. Truly, it’s somewhat in the same category as young, (rarely over 40), techno-centric adults beginning every answer to every question they’re asked with, “So”, but that’s a complaint for another post.)
I know … I’m 60 and Old School.
When I desire a peek at someone’s deepest, nugatory recesses, I’ll purloin a ticket to their laparotomy. For the in-between time, please, spare me your innermost details and keep a private diary instead. Maybe in an uncrackable safe.
I once saw a movie, (the name of which is presently occluded from my . . . whatever it’s called), wherein two, elderly gents were sitting in a park, hobnobbing. Since they didn’t have much nob about which to hob, they reflected upon their most recent bowel movements. (One might say they were simpatico.) It was rather humorous and surprisingly entertaining, though a smidge uncomfortable to watch. (Perhaps when I turn 85, I too will become simpatico. Who knows? I shall, at the very least, hope for regularity.)
Regardless, that was a movie about a couple of old farts. And their conversation was private. (Well, aside from the camera crew.) But you get the idea, right? Private stuff.
I implore all who care to be implored, (and though your innards howl and shriek for equal time to share, divulge and dish), strive to maintain a sense of reserved decorum in your Tweeted missives and Facebooked proclamations.
Trust me, one day, (perhaps when I’m 85?), you’ll thank me.
And perchance, if the gods smile upon us, we will hobnob, and I will tell you about my regularity.
