Me, Myself, and You Guys!

   
     Let's just say it: it's been forever. I offer no apologies, but how about an explanation of sorts? Or at least a moderately thought out intro? Good enough? Great enough.
     This is what happened.
     A few months ago, I somehow or another found myself distracted by additional responsibilities, and other personal things that you don't want to hear about. Promise. Point is, my mind was elsewhere. Then, not too long ago, I heard about what was happening with Paula Deen, and had a thought, which turned into a conversation with myself. Here's how that went:
     "Hey, Carrier of the Righteousness Torch," I said to myself, "people sure are mad that Paula Deen is a racist now, eh?"
     "That's true, Guy Who Is Great at Being Me, they sure are."
     "Why do you think that is, Greatest Person Ever?"
     "Probably because people aren't big fans of racism, Handsomest Person of THEM ALL."
     "Well, sure, Even Handsomer Than That, but what I mean is, how is it that after a week or so of this garbage, we still have yet to hear anyone ask why we care about -at all- the proclivities of a woman who is famous because she uses butter when she cooks?"
     And then Myself reminded me of something, aside from the fact that I should never tell anyone about the proper pronouns I use to address Myself in private*. Something I immediately forgot about again, due to the previously alluded to distractions.
     After that, time passed.
     Then, I heard that this one social networking site was going to start using hashtags and things of this nature, much in the way that this one other site utilizes them. I didn't hear much about it really, but I did point out to Myself that no one was standing around complaining loudly about it and threatening to raise a ruckus, an observation in which Myself immediately took interest.
     "That's an excellent point, O Great and Most Amazing Leader of Beasts and Men Alike. Where are the people who equitably insist that this whole hashtag thing is weird beyond reason? Why is it that people feel the need nowadays to categorize, summarize, and otherwise rephrase whatever it is they just typed? And, Self That is With Every New Moment a Greater Level of Achievement for All Past Selves, I mean literally just typed. Has everything become so passing and insignificant that they don't even speak for themselves anymore?"
     "Can't say, Most Graceful of Movers and Shakers, but if I were to hazard a guess, I'd speculate that it's because people seem to be getting less and less communicatively capable as technology provides them with more opportunities to express themselves."
      To which myself replied to me, "An interesting thought, Grand Master of Fascinations, but it doesn't really follow, does it? Generally, the more we do something, the better we get at it, correct? The more one practices an instrument, or juggling, or some other skill, the more adept they become. So why wouldn't all the additional communicating people are doing improve their abilities?"
     Well, I had to admit to myself, I had a point. Myself is pretty good about these things. He's also pretty good about answering his own questions before I get a chance to do so. I expect more than a few people are delighted to find out that having to go back and forth with Myself is just as frustrating for me as it is for them. The guy's always got a point to prove. This time, it was thus:
     "I think, My Bold and Wondrous Pillar of Strength, that the only conclusion we are left with is that people were never good at communicating in the first place, because people are the worst of things, and what we're seeing now is just a horrible, linguistic nightmare of free-floating detritus from people's brains. Not so much communication, but just declarations that others are now allowed to observe and judge."
     Myself usually ends my arguments by explaining that whatever it is that's happening is happening because people are stupid, which would be far less tiresome to me if Myself wasn't right all the time.
     "So why is no one talking about this, Good Lord of the Mighty?" I asked.
     Myself's reply was lost to me, for the sake of prolonging the structure of this piece.
     More time passed, as it insistently does.
     Then, just the other day, I was out running errands with a friend of mine. During the course of our conversation, she commented that I do like to complain.
     I know, I was surprised to hear it, too. I didn't have much of a conversation with Myself about it then, because I was with another person and that would've been rude. But it stuck, and Myself and I both thought about it for a while. I came to the conclusion that I really didn't like to complain, but it didn't feel like anyone else was really doing a very good job of it. Sure, people were going back and forth about this and that, bicyclists and motorists complaining about each other, republicans and democrats doing the same, and just all kinds of lines being drawn everywhere and subsequently crossed.
     "But what about these lines, Czar of the Just?" I asked Myself. "What about the lines getting crossed all the time that no one seems to notice? Why don't I hear anyone talking about those?"
     And that's when Myself again said to me what I'd forgotten.
     "Because that's your job, stupid. Now leave me alone, I'm tired of listening to you and I want to sleep."
      Which is when I decided to write this all out for you, friends and neighbors.
     But anyway, yeah, I was distracted, so I was gone for a while.
     So who wants to raise a ruckus?
-John

    
*crap.