In the 1925 musical No, No, Nanette, there is a song entitled Too Many Rings Around Rosie Will Never Get Rosie A Ring. Its wisdom is the brooch of a brief rant I'd like to fasten to your collective bosoms.
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There is definitely too much talking going on. The air is thick with useless signaling. The sidewalks teem with folks who are practically blindfolded by their endless chat. As far as the eye can see, it's Verizon of the Living Dead, bumping into traffic.
We have all come to understand the addictions of meth and alcohol and carbohydrates and even sex which is the trendiest door to Betty Ford, but are we ready to admit to an addiction to connectivity? Are we ready to stop exhausting ourselves building vast and worthless networks of "friends and family"? Are we ready to start blocking friends, family and strangers whose words fill our heads ceaselessly in the course of a day not with wisdom but with everything else? Are you ready to admit how unattractive you are to a potential lover because you have become unskilled at expressing deep and well-formulated thoughts and emotions? Are we ready to face the fact that we have become our own self-inflicted sound bites? Have you noticed yet that your communication devices have become personal external hard drives that no longer assist your brain but rather replace it with limited functions that are much less elegant?
Are you ready to shut up and seek refuge from noise for a portion of your day? If I were to ask you to describe the aim of your life, could you do it? I've taken some time to formulate a response to that question. My name is Tony. I want to be a great lover and I want to find out why we exist. Who are you? If you tell me that your name is Rosie and that you are close to hitting the five thousand maximum number of Facebook friends, I think you've got a problem.