Why the past is better
- In televised sporting events, they used to show spectators running out onto the field in all its glory. Now, they don’t show it at all because of some unsubstantiated myth which postulates that others will copy what they see on TV. Fuck that. I want to see some flailing schlongs on my HDTV.
- When calling a customer support line, you either got connected directly to an operator or you navigated through the menu using your touchtone phone. Now, a good number of companies (Sony being one) employ the automated “start talking and we’ll figure out what you’re trying to say” method. Saying numbers out loud is okay, but you want me to recite my street address and you’re going to decipher this somehow?
- I miss the days when I could go into a high school dance and rub my groin against a girl’s thigh without going to prison.
Why the present is better
- Bank of America ATMs in my neighborhood branch have done away deposit envelopes. Now you can insert a check into the ATM and the machine scans it and figures out how much the check is written out for. I don’t go to the bank that often since I’m below the age of 80 and I have a functioning grasp of electricity, so this was a total shock (no pun intended) to me when I saw this a couple months back.
- My car has an auxilary audio input jack. I can connect my iPod to it and it plays hours of music. The nice man at the Mazda dealer asked me if I wanted a 6-disc CD changer with my car. That had to be the stupidest question I was ever asked in my entire life.
- I don’t think I could ever go back to the days of AOL dialup again. I also cringe in horror whenever I see someone use a payphone these days. I wish I could throw stones at those boorish serfs. I would throw my Razr but they’ll probably think it’s food and try to eat it.
At this point, I think it’s a toss-up. But then again, most of my reasons for liking the past have an unhealthy association with some depraved sexual fantasy. Thankfully, the high school dance thing was fulfilled multiple times. Reciprocation was an entirely different beast, though.