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Don't Text Us We'll Text You
by J. Neil Connelly 
The text message may be the greatest tragedy to befall modern civilization. It is a step backwards, a perversion of human interaction, and it will certainly lead to the crumbling of our current state of living. Just watch.
When you read a history book, and some civilization is falling into a steady decline, you want to shout out to them, “Hey idiots, quit getting drunk and going to the Coliseum…the Goths are coming!” As you sit in your easy chair, you wonder how these people could be so blindly oblivious to their readily apparent demise. It’s like a horror flick, but without the running upstairs instead of out the door. Many empires can blame nepotism, inbreeding, and overambitious military campaigns for their eventual fall from greatness. Historians will be citing text messaging when they discuss the crumbling of the great American civilization. I hate text messages. Hate them with a passion. Texting is what I would call a technological regression. When I was growing up, I anticipated that eventually I would drive a flying car and have a robot to clean up after me. Instead I have the ability to send someone a message in text form, even if they’re far away. Wow. What a relief. Technology is amazing. Wait. Didn’t we already establish this capability with the telegraph? What’s next? Cell phones with built in carrier pigeons? Get serious. A cell phone that has texting capability is like saying you have a stainless steel open range fully equipped with a hot plate. And everyone keeps using the hot plate. Why?!?! One reason I came up with was that it might be impossible to start a conversation with that person that will not end in less than ten minutes. This situation presents peril to eardrums and daily itineraries alike. Better to text and have it over and done with. It’s not like you could say, I’m in a rush and can’t talk long. That would be rude. But texting someone that their boyfriend is cheating on them, well, that’s perfectly acceptable. The text message has replaced human interaction of almost any form, surpassing e-mail in the race to keep humans from ever having to look at, speak to, or come close enough to smell one another. The next step will be to remove the actual physical contact required to procreate, just like in Demolition Man. If you aren’t worried about the problems posed by such “advances,” you should watch Demolition Man. They can’t have sex, they can’t swear, and they have to wipe their bums with “the three seashells.” I don’t even know what that means, but I’m terrified. I’ll stick to three-ply thank you very much. Although I wouldn’t mind wiping my butt with the concept of text messaging. That is the esteem in which I hold it. There is only one acceptable reason for texting someone. If you are trying to relay a message to your buddy Schmidty that he is a dork, you need toilet paper, you set the house on fire, and his tie makes him look like Mr. Rogers, but he is trying to close an important client, a text may be easier to handle than an actual call. Go ahead and text Schmidty. One argument I have heard in favor of texting is that it is faster. This is true. The sending part, anyway. Receiving a text takes much longer. Sure, you can read it in less than four seconds, but it takes minutes, hours, and sometimes days to interpret what the message really meant. People have spent enough time decoding these texts to translate 15 Rosetta Stones. It doesn’t make any sense. Was it casual and breezy, a painfully perfunctory blow off, sarcastic or really sweet? Text messages have neither the length nor the tone to try and replace an actual conversation. What seems to be quicker is actually slower, and more likely to drive the recipient legally insane. Kids who text, at least the novelty of it can explain their zealous usage of this option. But adults, c’mon. A text message is the cultural equivalent of a note passed across the classroom that says, “Do you like me? Circle yes or no.” I will not even honor this request by circling no. If you want to remain in the fifth grade forever, and be responsible for the downfall of American civilization, please, keep on texting. If you want to text me, you can reach me at 1.555.335.3833. For those of you scoring at home, that’s 1.555.DEL.ETED. 
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