The good old days

The year was 1982. I was born into a world of perms, shoulder pads and power-ballads. A world in
which Michael Jackson was black, women sported men’s haircuts and vice versa, and the synthesiser
was committing crimes against music and humanity (which I believe still await trial in The Hague). My
first decade on this planet saw the rise and fall of happy pants, slap bands, hyper-colour T-shirts and
Boyz II men. Given this hugely underwhelming legacy, you are justified in questioning my right to
look back on my early years with comparative fondness.

I have recently found myself uttering a phrase that, until recently, I believed belonged solely in the
vocabulary of someone far more advanced in years than I. A phrase dispensed at length by those who,
having survived the war and great depression, still manage to look back wistfully on the good old days.
‘Back in my day’ they proclaim as only those who have been there, done it and bought the button down
cardigan can.

Sure, I can remember a time when fuel cost less than 70c per litre, a slab of beer was less than $30 and
no one had ever heard of Kyle Sandilands. However it is not for these reasons that I look back and
yearn for a simpler time. No, the catalyst for my premature reminiscing is the realisation that we are
being rendered socially retarded by social media such as Facebook, MySpace and the abominable
Twitter. Yes I am well aware of my hypocrisy, as you are most probably reading this very blog having
learnt of its existence via Facebook, and I will admit there are some pros to these digital forums.
Despite this I firmly believe the ludicrous cons they present far outweigh the ability to digitally ‘poke’
that girl you like but just can’t work up the courage to tell. Back in my day if you digitally poked
someone you would be sharing a cell with a bloke called Butch as you served a five to ten stretch for
sexual assault.

A recent phenomenon, Twitter is without doubt the most inane concept ever devised (possibly second,
behind screening Hey Hey it’s Saturday on Wednesday). Allowing every somebody, nobody and
wannabe to update the moronic masses of their latest ‘achievements’, Twitter is to the intellect what
open sewers are to Port Phillip bay, an endless stream of effluent polluting a precious resource.
Personally I couldn’t care less whether Justin Bieber just got his first pube, or that Mel Gibson just
flipped the bird at a Jew or that Ashton Kutcher just took a dump. Back in my day sharing anything
relevant, intelligent or poignant required more than one hundred and forty characters and an iPhone.

I feel only slightly less animosity towards Facebook and MySpace as I find Facebook a useful tool
when it comes to staying in touch with friends who reside overseas. The ability to view their photos
and instantly communicate online enables me to maintain relationships that may otherwise have fallen
by the wayside. Back in my day this would be achieved, with only slightly more effort, by sending
postcards, writing a letter or picking up the phone. Given the pitfalls involved with membership of
these sites it is an effort that is worth serious consideration.

As a public transport user I have lost count of the number of times I have overheard some hormonally
retarded, angst ridden tween pleading with an equally melancholic peer for an explanation as to why
‘so and so’ would just ‘unfriend’ them on Facebook with no explanation. On one such occasion the
despondent Miley Cyrus fan actually stated that as a result the offending Facebook fiend was no longer
invited to her birthday party (some things never change). Honestly I would rather have my prostate
examined by Captain Hook than to sit through another of these conversations.

I have repeatedly heard the following questions raised. Where do I draw the line regarding who I
friend? Is it rude to delete someone? How many friends do you have?

The number of friends you have on Facebook has got to be the most ridiculous pissing contest you
could possibly find yourself in (unless you find yourself trying to see who can pee higher up the wall
after stumbling drunk into the zoos giraffe enclosure). Like car volume to penis size the number of
online friends to real world friends is an inverse relationship. So, you’ve got four thousand Facebook
friends? Why then are you sitting at home on Saturday night using Facebook? As far as I’m concerned
the only people that should be accepted as an on-line friend are those that you are friends with in the
non-cyber world (remember the one with all the people, parks and natural lighting). Should those
friendships end, for whatever reason, then that person is removed from your on-line list of friends.
Not all of the problems associated with social networking sites are quite so absurd. While these sites
and the internet in general, have been hailed for bringing the world closer together, it could be argued
that in terms of meaningful human connections they are only pushing us further apart.
These sites have facilitated cyber-stalking and cyber bullying which is a real and ever increasing
problem, particularly amongst school children. People have been overlooked or fired from jobs due to
private information being published publicly on-line. I am certain that the vast majority of people who
subscribe to these sites do not consider the very real consequences of their actions.

So, as I button up my cardigan, I’ll leave you with this question. Back in my day we didn’t have
Twitter, Facebook or MySpace, were we in any way worse off?