Who's up for a Picnic??

 

Social media resemble picnics.

We don’t prefer to eat every meal outside on a blanket, but the blue sky of summer, the birds singing, the sea breeze promise something different, something pleasant, something interesting, and so “I know what let’s do! Let’s go on a picnic!” seems an escape from tedium, a brief reprieve from the cares and stresses of the daily grind. (Forgive me for this crusty choice of a pleasurable “thing to do;” I’m old, and a bit old-fashioned.)

And when the blanket is spread and the basket with its egg salad sandwiches, cake and lemonade is opened, it feels like a promise fulfilled. At first, the ants are just small irritants, at least compared to the wasps. Both seem to multiply as you juggle a plate of cake and a lemonade. And at some point, exuberant kids start up a game of frisbee football between you and the ocean ... about the same time as you notice a man with sunglasses leering at your daughter who's showing a bit too much leg, possibly. And if you were picnicking on Puerto Vallarta beach, peddlers would interrupt your conversation every few minutes to try to sell you jewelry, or a basket, or a blanket, etc. And two politicians are yelling at each other not far away, words like “moron,” and “fascist,” and “communist,” give way to even worse.

And you notice a guy in earshot nearby holding up what sure looks like a digital recorder, and when he points his phone camera your way, you pack it in in disgust.

The internet can be a lot like that. Unless, that is, you’ve become addicted to fast-changing visual variety like most of the world seems to have been so that (not unlike me) you can be lulled into scrolling endlessly down the screen, hoping for something interesting to catch your eye. 

I’m appalled at how a wonderfully useful tool can bring out so many shysters and trolls, peddlers and voyeurs, fraudsters and blasphemers, the vast majority doing their crimes without fear of detection, unguided by rules, not subject to any reasonable correction.

Like ants and wasps at a picnic, maybe?

No wonder some repack their basket, roll up their blanket and finish their cake and lemonade in the bug-free privacy of their homes.