#156 - Filler: My Helix Seem
Press [Piper's Tune]
One more step in the great filigree step-motion of forward thinking and increasing bandwidth of available processes. I have about ten seconds to convince you to read, anything more and you’re lost on the winds of the less than 40 seconds of patience seemingly required for the ‘net as a whole.
Here we are again, fair readers. Some of you may be wondering when I have time to be so charming and pleasant. That would be in the wee hours just before my shift starts as I parade my time upon a bus destined for what might be the most trying job I’ve ever had.
Good grief, do you hear that, folks? I’ve just been warned not to drink, eat or smoke by an automated voice. I do believe I have officially wandered astray into the twilight zone. It was some oddity, mounting the bus yesterday, that it announced it’s number and destination.
Let’s add to that the offhanded indication of every street change, and you’ll soon understand why I am grateful for the blissful ignorance of my headphones. Frankly, not to have to be subjected to the brainless nattering of said automation. It is a strained relief.
Social unrest is an increasing commonality in our community. Especially where the fortitude of bus operators and the requirements they have of us, the riders. These are by no means unfair expectations, but now they have a substitute.
It’s a double edged blade, and I say they’re only going to exacerbate an already tense and problematic issue, as compliance. Let me ask you this, how seriously do we take computers? Rather how much weight do we lend the words of our parents?
Either way one may blithely set aside the ceaseless worry of a machine that Knows-You-Not. There’s always an excuse of course, even though in truth we know better than to be unkind, anti-social, and criminal. A fella has to start somewhere, doesn’t he?
It’s as simple as this: Since the - ahem - transit operator doesn’t have to forward the courage to fend for his bus, his riders, or himself, the problem of non-compliance will worsen. Pass the buck-o, right-o? I have seen drivers command the unruly with no more than a glance, whilst others suffer the phlegm and bruise inflicted by the unkind to criminal.
Not to underplay the issue, or lay blame, as the bread and butter seat of said operator was torched one Hallows Eve ‘07. Yes indeed, but just one. Correction, let’s look again at the Blame-On-A-Rope. It does exist, and it is a none-to-cleansing yet refreshing item.
It all cycles back to our society. Who’s to scold these scoundrels, hm? Where are the parents, I ask you? I watched a documentary on the issues surrounding teen internet socialization. It seems They-Do-What-They-Want-Anyway.
I Told You So.
I’m not too proud to say that. Few things saddle my guts up in a tether, but that’s one of them. Where the parents aren’t - we lose. The grip on sanity is slipping surely, the slope is expanding. Do we know which end is up when parents first delete the soft-porn archive of a fourteen year old girl (who easily hid this secret. Oh no, they didn’t care enough. Which is it?) only to encourage it months later?
Is condoning the watchful pedophiliac okay now because Mom and Pop said so? I don’t care How Old She Said She Was. I’ll give you a heads up - the girl has issues. Safe to say, but if the parents say “it’s cool”, who’s to argue? She’s of age - - oh right. She’s not. Strike out. Who will offer her a taste of sanity, not to mention healthy sexuality?
Banish the thought, trouble me not.
You mottle headed morons have raised trouble, so thank yourselves and don’t come crying to the world when she stumbles home one day, empty, alone, and ravaged. Savvy? She’ll be cursing herself when maybe, just maybe, she should be blaming you for not being stalwart enough.
Harsh, huh? She’s made her mark, and because of the Internet it will survive her every device and intention. Will it flavour them? You bet your bottom up it will. Should she want away from it - the legacy will pursue her. This is a two way relationship, this seduction, after all.
This is the battle I elected not to fight, because I realized that as much as the predators are untouchable and not the Real Threat, the ones who need to want safety are the victims. The hand will only be gripped by those desirous, the rest will be lost.
One is enough - ten is enough. Count “elven” and we have to ask ourselves just what the hell are we doing? We’re on the final slope, kids. Don’t panic, but be a part of your children’s lives. When they make the same dumb mistakes you did, remember what it was like to be a teenager and don’t forget they need you. The hard reaction will cause as much rift as none at all.
They are fish in a wild ocean, and there are many sharks. Who’s going to be home when they’ve managed to escape them? Who’s going to teach them what to say? Fret you may, but you survived the ocean somehow, and now it’s their turn to swim.
Don’t give up - times have never been darker, but children have never been stronger, and parents - there’s hope for us yet. Don’t give in to doubt. Meanwhile, don’t let technology be your substitute conscience.
‘Nuff Said.
