What the Future may hold
… it’s early January 2023, and if you haven’t made it onto Charles’ list by now, safe to say your CBE honor will have to wait yet another year which is mostly a loss for LinkedIn as your family probably already is instructed to address you as “Commander” in public. As you’re desperately holding on to your otherwise relatively light bio, imagine — while you’re reading this, a deceptively small tactical nuke may be on its merry way to a Starbucks near you, courtesy of good ol’ Vlad Putin. Don’t run, it’s impolite & outright dangerous in tight spaces, but just to be on the safe side, duck — if your knees permit. While, admittedly, from a longevity perspective this scenario may not constitute good news per se (unless you’re a Dunkin’ guy) it would be over a lot faster than slowly desiccating to death thanks to unrestrained global warming which we had planned to conveniently hand over to our kids (before they can vote, legally). The silver lining here is the recent progress made towards cold fusion, although Putin may misunderstand the concept altogether as a decadent, decidedly ‘Western’ take on Vodka-propelled Siberian love making. C’est la vie …
Armageddon-skevitch aside, in looking ahead, let’s briefly workshop the following: You have been dreading it all yuletide season — and no, it’s not an IBS flare up because your brittle intestines can’t handle all the refined sugar that’s coming down the pipe. You can’t help feeling that the mesmerizing ringing sound is either early-onset-tinnitus caused by one too many renditions of “All I want for Chrissssmaaaaas is youuuuu”, or a cry for help from your nose hair breaking in the bitter NE cold. Wrong — rather, it’s some annoying inner voice that urges you to better come up with this year’s resolution, the one to keep for a change or at least the one that’s harder to ignore than usual.
Well, (1) it could be consuming less booze to give your liver some much deserved reprieve but then who, on or around judgement day, wants to hand back ‘the equipment’ in perfect working order, right? While we’re at it — ‘Dry-January’ is a terrific title for a boutique Vermouth. (2) How about the perennial favorite, weight loss? — hmhm, unless you’re a monster, how can you live with yourself letting all these wonderful cholesterol-laden holiday treats in your fridge go bad while children starve in the Sudan? Cake anyone … (3) Next up, getting finally around writing, or at the very least illustrating, The Great American novel, although in that case I wouldn’t have much time for any of this acerbic drivel on “Medium”, would I? which leaves us with (4) the blood pressure-lowering goal of stressing less about everyday crapola. As you may have guessed, I make that very pledge every year only to violate it just a few days later. This year’s fall off the mindfulness wagon was instigated by the surviving, holiday decorations in the neighborhood. Please note: Unless your last name is or rimes with Griswold, if your seizure-inducing, blinking holiday decorations look like the entrance to the gates of hell or a unionized brothel — you went a bridge too far. And, no, the kids don’t love it. Get your sh*t together, style up for once and turn your extravaganza a few lumen down — rest assured, even if you can’t spell conservation, the average, shortsighted and at times abbreviated legacy airline pilot appreciates if he or she avoids confusing your driveway with the nearest runway. After all, ‘safety is our priority’.
Speaking of 2023. Love it when people call themselves — futurists — primarily on websites they maintain and at online-broadcasted conferences they help organize and pay for, of course. This humble self-designation is meant to signal that they see something you & I can’t yet, with or without a step stool or clean eye wear. Mind you, bleeding edge innovation is not even cutting it for them — they are just so far ahead of everybody else that once they’re way up their own technically advanced ass*s, they can see the face of God and, luck will have it, live to tell (us mere mortals) about it. While exposure therapy may be indicated in serious cases, the quick & dirty remedy is — — stay off crack or better yet, “Just say NO” to your own Kool-Aid, then take down your LinkedIn profile a notch or two while admitting that you get nauseous just like everybody else when wearing any XR gaming kit and that by merely subscribing to the MIT Tech Review you’re not actually doing any of this gadget stuff — yet — just like the rest of us. Easy fix. Thanks.
Happy New Year.
© Tom Deisboeck, 2023. All Rights Reserved.
