Compromising Technology

Technology was invented by nerds who needed something to lord over the popular kids. You see, as a sweeping generalisation, the popular kids were, by and large, a bit dim. They'd often get confused over how many times the letter 'O' appeared in the word "lose". During maths lessons they believed the square root of pi was pastry. And the most productive thing anyone could do with a computer was to murder time idly clicking at a blank screen on Microsoft Paint. Over time, technology became more commercially viable and socially acceptable. The popular kids closed in on the nerds' territory and claimed it as their own; that's why in twenty years or so, it'll be fairly common knowledge that iPads and such run on pure concentrated magic as opposed to processors and algorithms and other miscellaneous computery jargon.

Meanwhile, a whole new batch of super-nerds felt the need to assert their dominance, and used knowledge to confuse, aggravate and trick the masses by adding several thousand special features to their technology under the guise of easier use, unsolicited messages relating to penis enlargement products and the national lotteries of Central African nations, and automated scripts and macros and even more computery jargon to force technology to malfunction all by itself. As a bit of a floater between the stupids and the geniuses (genii? [genus? {who cares, really?}]), I often laugh heartily and snort derisively at the idiot-holes too moronic to understand technology's intricacies and passionately curse the super-nerds whenever I'm the one who's been duped by a bit of soulless hardware.

Not long after my last communiqué here, I was made to look a fool. And not just any fool. A foolish fool. The most foolish a foolish fool could foolishly look, eating a strawberry fool, like a foolish fool eating fool that was foolishly made by another foolish fool who somehow managed to suspend their foolishness to make a fool.

Anyway, I received an email message. Actually, I received many, but I always receive many. Unfortunately this doesn't make me feel at all as popular as I used to. Whenever I'd be greeted with "2 new messages", I'd wonder what could possibly have happened to make everyone I know want to get in touch with me at the same time. Now when I see "8 new message", I just know I'll be clicking the little checkbox next to each one of them before proceeding to the "THIS IS JUNK" button. (I don't actually have a "THIS IS JUNK" button, I just thought that might add a little drama to things.) To digress, one message I received came from the monstrosity of Twitter. Apparently, one of my University lecturers had something urgent to tell me and all I had to do was click this unlabelled link. The link led to nothing and I felt somewhat cheated before carrying on with my day in whatever fashion I wished, which mainly boiled down to scrolling through the YouTube videos of one Adam Buxton - for those unfamiliar with him, he's a funny-talky-musicy-comedian type fellow who shouts in ridiculous voices a lot of the time; this stuff amuses me so.

A short time later, more email messages arrived and I flocked to see how many r0lex's I was being offered and how much I could potentially get for them if I cashed them in for gold. This, however, was not the case. These messages were from people I knew, and they were being sent to me care of Twitter. Apparently I'd informed every single one of my followers that someone was spreading rumours about them and all they'd need to do to find the perpetrator was to follow the unlabelled link provided. In mere moments it had occurred to me that my account had been compromised. That's what Twitter called it anyway. Not sure that's the parlance I'd have used but ho-hum, it matters not what I have to say anymore... I've been compromised now.

I became angered at the über-nerds for compromising technology in such a way that it punishes us foolish arseholes simply for being oh so foolish. Furthermore, I wished to act as soon as possible to end their reign of terror by telling all of my followers to ignore their fiendish schemes. Unfortunately, this had to be done individually to ensure that all users would immediately and effectively get the message, and it was at this time that I was glad my popularity in worldwide terms is struggling to match up to some of the more, dare I say it, popular kids. At the time of writing (and the time of spamming), I have 31 followers on Twitter. That meant individually going through the messaging procedure to rectify my moronic mistake and to tell people to ignore any obscurity I may have sent previously a total of 31 times; that's a whole twenty minutes wasted because of some angry nerdling who hates the masses for stealing his technology.

Still, it could've been worse. It could've happened to Bieber during his daily commute. Imagine sending eleventy-million-and-flumpteen messages of apology and warnings of spam on your Internet-enabled telephonic bit of technology whilst driving. Kid could've lost focus on the road and caused an accident or something.