Under No Thumb

After leaping into the world of computing as a professional pursuit in the early 80s, I've never hesitated to tinker with any emerging technology related to computing which I could afford to spend money and time on. That all changed when social media rose its ugly head and seized control of so many minds. It was all too obvious what it was really about and how easily it lured, hooked and played its catch relentlessly, without mercy or any moral restraint.

Now, political powers are leveraging it to their nefarious designs and mechanisms to gain advantage through any means possible within that realm without regard of its detrimental, totally deadend effect on its targeted audiences. Sadly, those audiences are not hapless, making conscious choice to immerse themselves in the quagmire of raw meanness it entails. Why? Because meanness gets their blood moving to a gratifying degree less physically demanding than aerobic exercise. Being mean is also instantly gratifying, like any narcotic is.

So I avoid social media platforms, choosing instead to dwell in this echo chamber where self reflection is the gist of the effort. Where memories are stored as age-related mind function degradation inevitably works its natural magic to cloud thoughts of past events, both pleasurable and otherwise, that I occasionally want to recall. This body of work is not here to impress anyone for any reason. It serves as a memory-triggering mechanism for my aging mind. A compendium of experiences for future reflection alone. And it's already serving this function nicely as occasional excursions into it triggers recollections and corrections of recollections gone stale or awry–all influenced only by self, and under no thumb but my own.