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In This Issue

• DeLovely? DeLorean.
• What Would Future You Do?
• What Are Your Plans For That Junk?
• Letters to the Editors
• The Adventures of Young Boy and Park Girl in 4-D
• Hipsters Remember Awkward Tweens at Brooklyn Bar
• You Can Call Me Ishmael Anytime
• Oh, Take Me Over Awkwardly
• People Know Me. Cool People.
• Not Even Time Thwarts Yo Mama
• I Plan To Own The Future
• How to Write Love Poems for Girls Who Can Read
• Lies My Robots Told Me
• My Ears Are Bleeding! Wait, That's Just My Vagina.
• Veritas Forum Takes Stand Against Death
• Too Jewish to Play Ska?
• Damned Interface Technology!
• The Church of Timeology
• THEY WATCH
• The Staff of 21.5

Michael Bredin

Michael Bredin

I think we need to travel backwards in time. The world has become far too newfangled. I can’t deal with the technology that dominates the insignificant lives of today’s youth. I freely admit that I’m an ipod-totin’, cell phone usin’, laptop-addicted 19 year old brat. (At least I don’t need a watch.) My point is: these tech-savvy youngsters all scare the hell out of me.

I bet you whipper-snappers don’t understand what I’m up against. Consider this: a grouchy 42-year-old woman has just found herself trapped in a young college student’s body and she’s about to discover the perils of venturing into the Twilight Zone.

The things I once understood have evolved beyond my expertise. It confused me immensely when someone took my picture with a phone. I want to know whose idea that was so that I can kill him with a toaster. In his last seconds of life, he will understand how I feel. Trying to escape from the crazy phone-togrophers, I run to the bathroom. Geez! I’m not even safe here. The guy who made automatic toilets should be ashamed of himself. I will decide when I am done with my business, thank you very much!

I think I’ve gotten the hang of this music thing. I might even be able to figure out how to play “Back in Black” without hurting myself. And this time? I’ll remember that there is no cassette drive on my laptop, AND I’ll stop trying to plug my walkman into my iPod. What’s this? I can download TV shows onto my iPod? Next they’ll be telling me I can take pictures with my phone. Oh wait…

I give up! Nothing is sacred. It’s only a matter of time before toilets over which I have complete control become anachronisms. I bet books will be the next to go. The Bible is already available for download on the internet. I can order everything from food to whores on Amazon.com. I’m sure you can download a copy of the internet on the internet. Can modern man survive without Google at his fingertips? I can only hope that a day will come when there is a mass-blackout, and all my Old World Technology skills will finally be of use. Yes! That’ll be the day. As our government officials frantically search the web for “world crisis manual,” I will be leading the people to safety and redemption. I will be revered for being able to read paper maps, spell-check hand-written homework, and find information in encyclopedias written and edited by professionals. But until that day comes, I will be laughed at for shrinking in fear from automatic sinks. Also, if I keep shouting at people to turn their music down and sit up straight, my peers will realize that I’m actually a 42 year old woman, and take me out before I can lead the revolution.

No, I haven’t forgotten that I started this all with a Twilight Zone segue. I realized I was truly alone in this society of gadgetry when I looked for an end to my suffering, and the doctors prescribed something called Prozac. When I confided this silly episode to my friends, they said, “But Laura…we’re all on Prozac!” I expected to either awake screaming, or have Rod Serling walk over and deliver a witty epilogue.