Piqued

Posted: 23 January 2012 in Almost related
Tags: , , , ,

I think we should call the process inductive irony
The crop of imbeciles currently protesting about Chapman’s Peak are doing a bang-up job of shooting the messenger. I’m not saying that their unhappiness is unwarranted, but their vociferous complaints are about as logical as waiting until after a factory has already been built before whining to the shift supervisor that you don’t like widgets.

I’d be interested to know if any of them bothered to research the facts before buying into this farce so wholeheartedly. Of course, since it’s a lot less effort to swallow a catchy sound bite than take the time to wade through a dull pile of documentation, my guess would be “probably not”.

It’s kind of ironic, because one of the contentious issues – i.e. that of environmental degradation – was addressed in excruciating detail in accordance with the requirements of the prevailing Environment Conservation Act (one of South Africa’s proudest monuments to bureaucracy) way back in 2003. The trouble is that nobody noticed at the time. Certainly not the banner-waving “activists” who claim to be so concerned about the mountain.

In essence, to ensure that the habitat of the extremely rare phonus balonus conjobbium was not compromised in any way, numerous rounds of public consultation were undertaken before the authorities allowed construction to commence. As a result, the project was in limbo for years before spade and topsoil had their first meet-’n'-greet. That’s when people woke up and started bitching. Shortly thereafter, the politicians and other bottom-feeders with agendas emerged and the 2nd Law of Thermodynamics got applied with ruthless and depressing efficiency.

I’m not suggesting that people stop being idiots – after all, stupidity does appear to be an essential part of the human experience. I just wish they would ration themselves occasionally.

But the Continuum Transfunctioner may have featured in there somewhere
Woke up one morning
And went to this place
Didn’t watch where I was goin’
So I fell on my face
Oh I got the broke-my-wrist-and-can’t-do-shit-no-more buh-loohoos!

Plenty of doo-doo, though

I once dated a girl who was a cyborg.

Ok, almost. More like a pseudo-cyborg. She didn’t have breast-mounted lasers, but she did have a smartphone – one that was always within easy reach, so she could check her Facebook and Twitter accounts at a moment’s notice. You know, in case there was an internet emergency or something. She used to get severely twitchy and anxious whenever she had to step away from the phone for any length of time.

Even in the bedroom, the Series of Tubes called to her. There were many times that my post-coital torpor would be punctured by the sound of fingers furiously tapping away on a tiny keyboard. That is not a euphemism, by the way.

I’m not entirely sure what that says about my capability as a lover, but that’s kind of beside the point… It could go either way, I suppose:

  • OMG, that was amazing! #exhausted #multipleorgasms; or
  • So bored. I wonder if there’s any humus left in the fridge? #yawn #hungry #unsatisfied,
  • Anyway, the thing that struck me – apart from the empty humus container – was how much of her life was lived online. I often got the feeling that the things she did were simply status updates in the making, rather than engaging activities in their own right. There were times when she conspicuously absent, even though she was still in the room.

    I have seen the future and it has a faraway look in its eyes. And big thumbs.