By now I’m sure you’ve seen them. They have always been staring at their phones, but now because of something called Pokemon Go, they are walking around while staring at their phones. I had a few of them wander in front of my car at a gas station the other day - while my car was still moving. For a split second I debated putting them out of their misery, but I had a bad feeling if I had hit them, their friends would have descended on them like the walking dead, and stolen their phones. I didn’t want to see that.
I’m sorry to report that it seems the end is near. Our current presidential candidates are obviously the first sign of an impending apocalypse, and now Pokemon Go has provided us with zombies. I have actually heard people trying to put a positive spin on the galactic time and energy waster that is Pokemon by saying it’s getting our youth up off the couch and moving around. Well, isn’t that just fantastic. Our generation of slack-jawed, so-pale-they’re-almost-see-through youth have finally found an app that has health benefits. Healthy and fun right up until you walk in front of a bus or into an open man-hole. Best of luck to you, millennials.
We have turned a huge electronic corner. We’re so addicted to our electronics that the only way to get any exercise now is to get an app for it. You think I’m only talking about humans? Then you’re in denial about how close the end really is. No, my friends, you can get an app for your tablet to prevent obesity in your feline pals. Yes, a cat app. To help cats lose weight. I am not making this up. Apparently it has fast-moving objects that cats will try to hit with their paws, thus being active. Holy cr-app.
Didn’t the standard anti-cat obesity tool used to be called a mouse? I can just hear the phone conversation between millennial and parent.
M: “Fluffers is getting fat.”
P: “She needs to chase a mouse.”
M: “You are so ancient. I don’t own a mouse. We have tablets now.”
P: “No, an actual mouse, sweetheart.”
M: “Yeah, I know. And I actually don’t own one. I don’t even have a laptop.”
P: “You make me sad.”
M: “Whatever. I’m just going to get the new cat app.”
P: “I’m hanging up now.”
M: “Why do you say ‘hanging up?’ What are you hanging?”
M: “Send me money.”
And if you think Trump vs. Clinton, zombies, and the cat app are the most telling signs of our fast-approaching doomsday, you’re still not paying close enough attention. I heard a news story the other day that really seals the deal. There is an organization that is ready to accept your donation of that old fur coat that Aunt Mildred left you in her will. Will they clean it and sell it and use the money to donate to a homeless shelter or an orphanage? Well… not exactly. There’s an orphanage involved, but not one with actual children.
This dedicated group of individuals wants to cut up your old fur coat and use it to make nests for orphaned squirrels. The goal? To reduce orphaned squirrel anxiety. Again, I am not making this up. Now, while “Orphaned Squirrel Anxiety” would obviously be a great name for a rock band, I’m not sure that safeguarding the mental health of rodents with luxurious outerwear is really a great use of anyone’s time and energy.
But that’s where we are folks. We’ve allowed enough distractions that we now have a choice between Hell No! and Are You Joking? for president, our kids are wandering in the streets staring at a small screen and mumbling incoherent names, our cats are playing on our iPads, and the most pressing issue we can come up with is squirrel psychology. Actually, now that I’ve said it, “Squirrel Psychology” is a better name for a rock band. Wait… “The Orphaned Rodents.” No wait… “Psycho Squirrel Fur.” Yes!
Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to download that cat app. I’m obviously not going to let my boys play Pokemon Go, but they’re starting to get a little too sedentary. Maybe that cat thing can help keep them active.
See you soon,
Copyright © 2016 Marc Schmatjen
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