One Septillion: besides being the balance on my checking account, this is also theorized as the amount of planets in our universe, buddy. That’s 24 fucking zeros, which in actuality would be closer to my bank account 24 times, except the one part, so basically nothing. Good news is you won’t have an inheritance to squander on pussy and coke. Bad news is you won’t have an inheritance to squander on pussy and coke. In an attempt to stay politically correct– free-range parenting is under fire–I apologize for one of these two outcomes; choose your own ending, pal.
There are a lot of things you won’t know. Suffice it to say, most of them, really. You won’t really know much of anything when it comes to the scope of total human knowledge. You can pick, throughout your life, where you may choose to apply your brain. That’s kind of the fun part, the choosing. The shitty part is living with the choice forever. I don’t expect you to know what you want to do when you graduate high school, and for the most part, normal people will agree that 18 year olds are generally pretty fucking stupid and shouldn’t be trusted to make life-changing decisions: having a baby, picking a career, developing a more active sex life, deciding which benefits package is the most comprehensive at a job. Really, you should use this thing we’re on right now, the internet.
The Internet is Here to Stay…in All The Things
I’m no prophet, but I surmise the internet is around to stay, if only so we can all look at porn in the comfort of our bathrooms while hiding it from our significant others. I mean, I’m guessing, but I dunno; some people must do that, right? But there’s also something else on the internet, a few somethings, and it’s the entire compendium of human knowledge; and videos of cats being surprised by things. You can read about the stars, even visit them. You can learn about a career path (in porn, if you so choose), you can learn about your benefits package, but you have to read. Watching clips, even sexy ones with volcanoes can be a great way to spend part of your day, but there are other things: words.
I spend a lot of time reading things myself, as you’ll notice from all the books you take off my bookshelf and shit on—not literally, but the pages are bent and the books are cluttered and the yogurt and applesauce prints. But, it’s okay, you be you, kiddo. There’s a big difference, at least when you weed out the 50 Shades and Twilights and Faults and Stars horseshit. Printed words are timeless and unchangeable, they aren’t always correct, you see, but they are always there as a reference to the past, something you can see as a reminder of things lost. The internet, however, can change in a day. Words can be erased, entire histories abandoned or censored. So really, be selective and double check. If it comes in list format, like my Definitive Guide to Happiness, be skeptical, because it’s most likely garbage.
But you can still find some good stuff on the inter-tubes. You can also discover Rule 34 (when you’re old enough) which can change lives for the better, or worse. There are recesses of the internet that I’d advise against, but most likely you’d decide to do it anyway. So I’ll just say: “meh.”
Let me address a recent fad in internet “reporting” very quickly: the “list-icle.” Ignore them all.
Probably ignore anything that’s popular, actually—I’m going to quickly adjust my black-frame glasses, ruffle my beard, and unbutton my pearl-snap shirt after eating a low-carb meal and then lean back and puff on my electronic cigarette; I was cool before before you even existed. The collective internet has done some really great things, like spread knowledge and videos of naked chicks, and some really terrible things like make The Kardashians and a thing. You have to self-censor out the Kardashians and focus on smarts and bewbs (or otherwise, depending on your kinks); you’ll figure it out pretty quickly.
So by the time you’re self-aware—which is coming along fairly quickly now, by the way—the internet will be more than just a computer and a screen. It’s already becoming a part of everything, they (whoever they are) are calling this The Internet of Things. Which is really the dumbest possible name for anything, because “things” make you seem stupid. Maybe, simply, “Connectivity” would be more appropriate. All electronics will be tied together, from our thermostats to our phones, refrigerators and to yo’ sweet hunny’s sexy toy 990 miles away. We live in the burgeoning digital age, kiddo, and it’s really exciting to see what happens. But sometimes you must disconnect.
404 Errors, IRL
Coming from the dude that provides hyper-targeted advertisements on all these devices (sexy toy patent pending) I understand why that would seem confusing. But I also understand the value of keeping some things sacred, offline. I write in a journal and read real books while sitting at a coffee shop to be free of things sometimes. In a very strange way, I feel more isolated in a crowd of people that are all staring at their phones and laptops and tablets and e-readers. I can be my own, real self. And as the gadgets get better and more connected this will become increasingly difficult. For myself and for you. We can work on it together, but sometimes I fuck up; and at this point in your life, you fuck up a lot too.
I’m not sure what I was trying to accomplish this time around, except maybe remind you to slow down a bit and think. Live inside your own skin and keep things close to you. Be a good person on and offline; and always remember that real butts are better than The Interbutts.