Wait, Wait....Don't Tell Me

If it were not for the Internet, few of us would know 95% of what we know about the lives of others. Instead we would be blissfully ignorant, without a clue that insanity, hatred, bad taste, poor grammar, and stupid pet tricks are rampant among the masses. Imagine waking up in the morning and just having to make breakfast for yourself and your family, plus the cows and goats and chickens if you live on a farm, and not hear a word about bombs and terrorists. I want that life.

But I'm not living that life; I'm plugged in. Like Neo in the Matrix, I get up and log on and it starts--the barrage of extraneous information, like how to apply mascara so it doesn't streak in the rain, or where to get the best cheeseburger in Kansas City, or whose skeletal remains were found in a shallow grave 30 miles from nowhere overnight, or how the incensed mother of the bombers claims they were framed and that the whole thing was staged, complete with fake blood and the citizens of Boston all bit players.

There's so much I wish I didn't know. If you see me, please don't tell me.