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Is anybody there?

Scenes from a very mod­ern 18-hour visit between friends:

The kitchen table is strewn with sec­tions from two news­pa­pers, three lap­tops (one of them the kind with wid­dle bunny ears), an iPhone, two venti Star­bucks cups, my Flip video cam­era, two Goril­lapods and, I dunno, maybe a salt and pep­per shaker. “Some­times I’m read­ing a paper­back, and I try to flick the page with my fin­ger,” says Sam. Not the way you flick a mos­quito off the page. The iPhone flick. “Did you see these e-mails from Leslie?” she asks John, look­ing up from the iPhone. “Already answered,” he replies, not look­ing up from the laptop.

This is how we inter­act these days. John shoots a lit­tle video of Sam read­ing the e-mail and shows it to me, because I was sit­ting next to her when she did so, and I guess I might like to see it from another angle. Sam takes a pic­ture of our stained-glass panel for her iPhone wall­pa­per. Then she takes a pic­ture of the dog. Then we all real­ize what we’re doing, and go for a walk.

“Put on hats, it’s cold out­side!” a passerby scolds us. Appar­ently the mul­ti­ple weather wid­gets installed on every sin­gle elec­tronic device on the kitchen table failed to warn us that it was 30 degrees. So we stop at Star­bucks for more venti cups and a warmup. I tie Spriggy’s leash to a post out­side. Sam takes a pic­ture of him through the win­dow. Good. He hasn’t had his pic­ture taken in five or 10 min­utes, and two or three soft-hearted ladies have pet­ted him on their way in. No won­der his self-esteem is so tow­er­ingly high.

We need some­thing, we decide. Maybe…a bot­tle of wine and a bunch of snacks. Also, a two-pound salmon filet and some­thing from the deli called “Michi­gan black bean salad.” Cucum­ber, dill, Greek yogurt, a baguette, and we’re good to go.

Does the iPhone ring dur­ing din­ner? Of course it does. I wait for John to say, “I’ll call you back after we fin­ish eat­ing,” but he doesn’t, because it’s a semi-emergency, the call is com­ing from Sam’s brother, stuck in an air­plane on a run­way at Harts­field in Atlanta for going on three hours, and he wants to alert the media. Does John have a num­ber at CNN? he wants to know. “How strange that you’re in Atlanta, where we live, but we’re in Detroit, but any­way you’re in the plane and can’t get out,” John says, before giv­ing him the num­ber. I kept wait­ing for him to check the weather, like the guy in the com­mer­cial, who used his iPhone to lib­er­ate a sim­i­larly impris­oned flight. It wouldn’t do any good, because the rea­son the flight is sit­ting on the ground is ter­ri­ble weather in Atlanta. It’s snow­ing there, which we learned from an ear­lier phone call from John’s brother, who also lives there.

I won­der where this salmon came from, I thought. I hope not China.

Any­way, the din­ner was deli­cious. We watched Jon Stew­art dis­mem­ber Jonah Gold­berg, put all the devices to sleep and/or charge, and went to bed ourselves.*

This morn­ing I read, not online, a NYT review of a book called “Against the Machine: Being Human in the Age of the Elec­tronic Mob.” It begins:

In “Against the Machine,” the swag­ger­ingly abra­sive cul­tural critic Lee Siegel pays a visit to Star­bucks. He sits down. He looks around. And he finds him­self sur­rounded by Inter­net zom­bies, laptop-addicted crea­tures who have so griev­ously lost their capac­ity for human inter­ac­tion “that social space has been con­tracted into iso­lated points of want­ing, all locked into sep­a­rate phases of inward­ness.” How long until they wake up and smell the coffee?

Mr. Siegel’s field trip illus­trates sev­eral things, not least that Star­bucks is today’s most hack­neyed repor­to­r­ial set­ting. His out­ing cap­tures a vision of con­nec­tiv­ity that is the pre­cise oppo­site of what it appears to be. For him the sem­blance of a shared Star­bucks expe­ri­ence masks endemic computer-generated iso­la­tion, a con­di­tion that has prompted psy­chic and eth­i­cal break­downs that go well beyond the col­lapse of community.

He should have come for din­ner last night. The salmon could have fed another eas­ily, and maybe he would have had some sug­ges­tions for Sam’s brother to call. Then she would have taken his picture.

Blog­gage:

Does Lee Siegel read Bossy? I’d like to hear what the swag­ger­ingly abra­sive cul­tural critic (can I get that job? Because I’ve got the skilz) has to say about her brand of humor writ­ing, which com­bines the ele­ments of pho­tog­ra­phy, col­ored type, ital­ics, strikethroughs and Photoshop-with-arrows to tell a story about her slip­pers which makes you glad you spent 45 sec­onds hear­ing about. Why can ama­teurs fig­ure out the unique syn­tax of the web, and college-educated pro­fes­sional jour­nal­ists can’t? Put that in your venti Star­bucks cup and drink it, Lee Siegel.

When­ever I see a pic­ture like the one with this story, I remem­ber the fed­eral judge in Colum­bus, Ohio, who ejected a female lawyer from his court­room in the 1970s for the crime of wear­ing a pantsuit. The old geezer’s dead now, but I won­der what he’d think of a 75-year-old lawyer with his gray hair tucked into a neat braid at the back of his head. Note that he got charges dis­missed against his client, who was a can­di­date for tar and feath­ers last year, when she was accused of hang­ing up on a boy who called 911. Well-played, sir. A lit­tle Googling reveals the same lawyer was instru­men­tal in reviv­ing the career of Andy Bey, which earns him a place in jazz heaven, no mat­ter how long his pony­tail is.

You know how you know you’re really, really old? When you see a gos­sip item that begins like this –

Bye-bye, Justin Bobby! Aud­rina Patridge has a new beau.

– and you not only have no idea who the peo­ple are, you don’t even have the slight­est itty-bittiest ghost of a hint of a desire to know who they are, and what’s more, you know that even if you both­ered to find out, in the name of keep­ing up with what the kids are into these days, you know that both peo­ple will be over by the time you can Google the names. You just have a sixth sense about these things.

* Some events reported out of order, but all events actu­ally happened.

19 responses to
“Is anybody there?”

  1. Sue said on January 17th, 2008 at 12:34 pm

    I saw the Lee Siegel Star­bucks thing on a Salon review of his book yes­ter­day. After read­ing the arti­cle, the only obvi­ous con­clu­sion would be that when Lee enters a Star­bucks (or any­where, per­haps), every per­son in the room begins to stu­diously do some­thing else. Did the silly man not think that maybe he was being avoided? And I owe you for­ever for direct­ing me to Bossy a few months back. If it only takes you 45 sec­onds to read a Bossy story, you are miss­ing the won­der­ful phase II: the com­ments sec­tion. Nancy, Bossy and Punt­ab­u­lous and their accom­pa­ny­ing peanut gal­leries are my must-reads every day.

  2. beb said on January 17th, 2008 at 1:35 pm

    I thought the Inter­nets today would be all over Jon Stewart’s inter­view with Jonah Gold­berg because it was hilar­i­ously inco­her­ent and fre­quently con­tra­dic­tory. But all the usu­aly sources have been mum.

    I still get a chuckle when I remem­ber the scene from “Clue­less” where Cher is walk­ing down the hall­way talk­ing on her cell phone to her best friend only tp have her friend pull out of another class­room, fall in step with Cher, and con­tin­ues talk­ing to her on her cell­phone. It was such a state­ment on the new world order of elec­tronic con­nect­ed­ness. And where did I read or see on TV) a mom IMings her fam­ily that sup­per is ready, because they’re all off doing their own thing on dif­fer­ent com­put­ers. Actu­ally talk­ing to peo­ple is becom­ing some­thing of a lost art.

  3. nancy said on January 17th, 2008 at 1:51 pm

    Beb, I haven’t been look­ing around, but Alicublog has a lit­tle cor­ner of that story covered.

  4. 4dbirds said on January 17th, 2008 at 2:16 pm

    I seem to remem­ber a news item in the 80s or early 90s where a judge refused to hear a case from a lawyer because she was wear­ing red high heeled shoes and only har­lots wore red shoes.

  5. michaelj said on January 17th, 2008 at 4:31 pm

    Years ago, there was a guy that prac­ticed a par­tic­u­larly flam­boy­ant, and wildly suc­cess­ful, style of crim­i­nal defense in Geor­gia. He was the guy you got if you were caught stand­ing over the body with a smok­ing over-under. He also had impec­ca­bly clean and con­di­tioned hair that lit­er­ally reached the small of his back. My brother was in the court­room with a client wait­ing for her case to be called, an elderly black woman accused of boot­leg­ging, which at that time in GA meant she sup­ple­mented Social Secu­rity by sell­ing half-pints of Ancient Age on Sun­days to her neigh­bors. When the big-time mouth­piece approached the bench, she said, in awestruck stage whis­per: “I di’n’t know they was lawyers looked just like Jesus.” Gen­eral hilar­ity ensued, although the judge was not amused and my brother’s client was mys­ti­fied at the uproar.

    This sar­to­r­ial show­down may end up pro­duc­ing new case law. Per­son­ally, I think wear­ing an ascot is a crime of aggra­vated pom­pos­ity and offense against the sen­si­bil­i­ties of human­ity. Unless it’s just intended to piss off an insuf­fer­able prig of a judge, in which case I applaud the inge­nious affront.

  6. virgotex said on January 17th, 2008 at 5:04 pm

    What rock have I been liv­ing under that I’ve never seen a Gorillapod?

    Want one now. Must have, pos­si­bly before the end of the day.

    Won­der what Siegel would say about an online friend­ship between myself and two other women, one roughly my age and the other, more than 20 years younger than us. From three dif­fer­ent places hun­dreds of miles away, we’ve car­ried on one long con­ver­sa­tion for six years now, about all man­ner of things, and we are very much fam­ily, even though we’ve never met in the flesh. When my life went off the rails a few years back, it was these two peo­ple that were my daily lifeline.

  7. Kim said on January 17th, 2008 at 7:38 pm

    I strug­gle with this con­nect­ed­ness busi­ness. Seems we are more able than ever to con­tact oth­ers, any­where, but that per­sonal rela­tion­ships have suf­fered. I worry most when I see my eldest hang­ing out with friends and some are tex­ting friends in another room. Prob­a­bly because they can — doesn’t seem to affect their tight­ness as a group. It’s still weird.

    Some­times, though, it’s just swell — like the post just ahead says, or in vir­tual places like this one. Props to NN for know­ing how to do it, then doing it.

  8. kayak woman said on January 17th, 2008 at 9:16 pm

    hello Sam, con­nect­ing through the blo­gos­phere. Thanks nn.c for the con­nec­tion :-)

  9. del said on January 17th, 2008 at 9:23 pm

    The pony-tailed attor­ney in Detroit News arti­cle, Cor­nelius Pitts, was named by a national legal pub­li­ca­tion as one of the 50 or 100 best attor­neys in Amer­ica some years ago. I remem­ber him using a pho­to­copier in a law library some years ago. It made an impres­sion on me that he was actu­ally doing his own legal research; some­thing promi­nent civil law attor­neys would del­e­gate to junior attorneys.

  10. Jen said on January 18th, 2008 at 7:07 am

    My friends and I some­times text or instant mes­sage peo­ple in the same room or the next room, but that’s mainly because it’s stu­pidly funny, not because we actu­ally com­mu­ni­cate that way. I think that tech­nol­ogy has changed the way we com­mu­ni­cate, but I don’t think its nec­es­sar­ily a bad thing. I like being able to very eas­ily and quickly keep in touch with my friends from col­lege, most of whom are still in col­lege or liv­ing in the Big City. I know I could call them or write a let­ter, but both are more time-consuming than just shoot­ing off a quick email, so I end up com­mu­ni­cat­ing with them more. Plus, with Face­book I’ve been able to keep tabs on peo­ple I knew in high school, which I like because I’m nosy. I’d still much rather sit down and talk to some­one in per­son, though.

  11. john c said on January 18th, 2008 at 8:38 am

    When I went away to col­lege in 1980, I left behind a girl­friend a year younger than me and still in high school. We had been dat­ing more or less for two years. But because we went to dif­fer­ent schools (no girls allowed in mine, no boys in hers) we should prob­a­bly only get credit for about six months. Any­way, I remem­ber slog­ging all the way across cam­pus in the chilly Boston autumn, shuf­fling down the stairs at McEl­roy and duck­ing into the post office to check my mail­box for a — let me see if I’m remem­ber­ing the tech­ni­cal term we used back then — let­ter. We both wrote some pretty tor­tured ones, I’m sure. The truth of the mat­ter, though, is that we both fig­ured out pretty quickly that we were hav­ing lots of fun on our own. Nei­ther of us had the guts to come out and say it. And we only talked in let­ters, or by phone maybe once a week. She was the one who dumped me, in the end. My point, I sup­pose, is that the feel­ing of sep­a­ra­tion we expe­ri­enced does not exist any­more. Nowa­days we would have been talk­ing on the phone sev­eral times a day, and tex­ting and e-mailing sev­eral more times a day. Dif­fer­ent times. Some­things are bet­ter and some things are worse. But it’s dif­fer­ent, to be sure.

  12. MichaelG said on January 18th, 2008 at 9:19 am

    I need to talk to my Ex about taxes. It’s a strange thing work­ing up the courage to call a woman with whom I lived for almost 30 years.

  13. Connie said on January 18th, 2008 at 9:23 am

    Pub­lic libraries in this coun­try are being over­whelmed by demand for inter­net access. My favorite are the grand­moth­ers who ask for help set­ting up an email account so they can keep in touch with a grand­kid at col­lege. My pet peeve is younger peo­ple using the com­put­ers to “chat” with the per­son using the com­puter next to them.

    My col­lege kid leaves for Paris tomor­row. It isn’t fair.

  14. brian stouder said on January 18th, 2008 at 9:50 am

    Con­nie — you came up in a bit of pil­low talk(!) between my lovely wife and I last night.

    She told me about a story she had just seen on the news, about a fel­low com­plain­ing to the Allen County Pub­lic Library about an NR rated movie he bor­rowed — which was (allegedly) porno­graphic. What struck Pam, though, was that the ACPL has Hus­tler and Pent­house and other type peri­od­i­cals in the col­lec­tion, and they’ll lend them out! (you have to leave your license with them, though)

    Seri­ously — I would think that that raises a bio-hazard issue, on the one hand (so to speak); and indeed — a pro­cure­ment ques­tion, on the other. It isn’t “cen­sor­ship” to say “We aren’t adding this peri­od­i­cal to our collection”.…we won­dered what ratio­nale the library would have for procur­ing such a pub­li­ca­tion, and what sort of pub­li­ca­tion would NOT be pro­cured by the library (that’s when I said “you should ask Con­nie on Nance’s sight”, and Pam said “oh, uh huh”)

  15. nancy said on January 18th, 2008 at 9:53 am

    So what was the movie? It’s going to itch me all day if you don’t tell us.

  16. brian stouder said on January 18th, 2008 at 10:01 am

    It has the (unpromis­ing) title

    Short Bus

    http://​www​.wane​.com/​g​l​o​b​a​l​/​s​t​o​r​y​.​a​s​p​?​s​=​7​738102

    We agreed we’d have to look for that movie!

  17. Connie said on January 18th, 2008 at 10:18 am

    We had a few of those bio-hazard inci­dents in my library before we started block­ing porn on the internet.

    Brian, every library devel­ops its own pur­chas­ing pol­icy based on its analy­sis of and under­stand­ing of its com­mu­nity. How to do that is some­thing librar­i­ans study in grad school. I can’t jus­tify Allen County’s selec­tion choices. Want me to call Jeff Krull and ask him?

    I will note that my library has the “Joy of Gay Sex” which con­tains very detailed draw­ings demon­strat­ing the var­i­ous um things dis­cussed in the text. I did have a com­plaint about it last year, and actu­ally had to look at it. Ick.

    Every library also has a process whereby you can address your con­cerns with items in the col­lec­tion. But over the years I have learned that one person’s romance novel is another person’s porn. AKA pornog­ra­phy is in the eye of the beholder.

    The major­ity of my com­plaints in recent years have related to homo­sex­u­al­ity, includ­ing the lovely pen­guin pic­ture book “And Tango Makes Three.” If I were going to select a mag­a­zine (librar­i­ans call them peri­od­i­cals :-) ) with pic­tures of naked woman I would choose Play­boy. For the articles.

    I know this isn’t a good answer to your ques­tion. And I am not sure what to think about the fact that you AND Pam are talk­ing about me in bed. Hmm.

  18. Adrianne said on January 18th, 2008 at 10:44 am

    On lawyerly garb: The in-the-closet dis­trict attor­ney in these parts bans the female pros­e­cu­tors in his office from wear­ing pants. Ridicu­lous. Today we ran a photo of the local women’s bar asso­ci­a­tion mem­bers hangin’ with Ruth Gins­berg, and most of them had Hillary-style black pantsuits on.

  19. Kim said on January 18th, 2008 at 10:47 am

    MichaelG — maybe you could text her.

    Actu­ally, your nerves really say what I think is lost. There seems to be no appre­hen­sion about elec­tronic com­mu­ni­ca­tion, which has (some­what) replaced face-to-face con­ver­sa­tion. I’m a huge fan of let­ters, and their dimin­ished impor­tance both­ers me.

    Face­book is going to wreck the whole 20th high school reunion thing. You know, you go out of mor­bid curios­ity, hav­ing lost touch with most every­one over the years. Every­body drinks too much, promises to stay in touch and doesn’t.