Some time ago, a teenage girl named Alexa Longueira was blissfully walking the streets of Staten Island (suspicious in itself) whilst texting something earth-shattering, no doubt ("shut UP, Zac Ephron is NOT a homo!"), when she fell into an open sewer manhole. While we wish no one injury, we enjoyed the story as evidence of Darwin's genius. Open manholes, after all, serve two important functions: they allow access to the sewer, and they handily dispose of dingbats like Alexa.
Walking (like driving, flying a plane, luging, operating a lawn mower, skydiving and sex), is an activity that requires one's full attention. Nobody needs to be doing anything else when they're doing any of these things. And if one finds themselves in a position where they simply MUST tweet about Hannah Montana whilst merging their Prius onto the interstate, something has gone terribly awry with their lives.
Take, for example, the curious case of Megan Mariah Barnes. On March 2, the classy Ms. Barnes crashed her Thunderbird into another vehicle because she had her ex-husband (riding shotgun) take the wheel so she could shave her hoo-hoo. Driving and pube-shaving are two activities that need no distraction. One false move doing either can easily result in the loss of something valuable. Heavens, if we're ever driving along and suddenly experience an unforeseen but desperate need to mow the grounds around the Washington Monument, you can rest assured we'd at least pull over. But this is a woman who climbed behind the wheel with a razor. It was planned. Of course this happened in Florida, where they grow retards like oranges.
But let's leave Florida, shall we? Let's go to Japan, the country that gave us hello kitty, kimonos and dolphin burgers. The Japanese are a suspicious lot (enough with the bowing, we're never going to clap). As such, they have a boner for robots. So much so, that they've recently unveiled the dazzling SOM, a portable hands-free whack-off machine (quit yer bitching gals, it also comes in a model for the ladies -- and desperate homos).
It seems to WAM that masturbation is a task one mustn't delegate. Furthermore, our highways are hazardous enough with folks tweeting and texting and facebooking, without adding hands-free chicken-chokers into the mix. After all, at least once a year don't we hear about a frisky couple who engaged in a bit of automotive oral when suddenly their Taurus sailed through a guard rail and down a ravine? We don't need truckers spanking one out with the help of their SOMs as their rigs careen down the turnpike. It's a hazardous distraction.
Want proof? Over the past two years, as America's financial institutions imploded one by one, the good people at the SEC (you know, the dudes we pay to keep an eye on the finance racket) were busily accessing sites like www.ladyboyjuice.com, www.hotgoo.com, www.scatmen.com, www.trannytit.com and www.anal-sins.com. Sitting behind government computers, their sweaty fingers click-click-clicking away, they either gained or tried to gain access to these sites more than 8,273 times. Meanwhile Bernie Madoff was escaping their scrutiny, AIG was playing a shell game with hundreds of billions in non-existent cash, and the strongest economy in the world was transformed into a disastrously precarious house of cards. At least when Nero fiddled as Rome burned, he was fiddling an actual fiddle.
What's more, we are convinced multi-tasking leads to insanity. Exhibit one: a dear friend of ours once had a roommate. One day it was roomie's turn to do the dishes and our friend discovered that roomie had taken the dishes into the shower so she could rinse out her filthy bits while scrubbing the skillets and silverware. That is simply demented, not to mention of dubious hygienic value.
Exhibit two would have to be Tetris Girl. She's a woman we encounter during every morning commute. Her blackberry is constantly running Tetris. She's tetris-ing as she walks, boards the train, disembarks, and totters off on her day. If, on the rare occasion she stops tetris-ing to look you in the eye, one detects her brain making a snap decision on how she must rotate you as you descend, so that you may fit into her twisted tetris-based reality. Tetris is her crack; reality an inconvenient intruder. We sincerely hope she's not tetris-ing whilst crossing the street one day when a cross-town bus sends her to the next level.
No. We are a proud uni-tasker.
It's okay to concentrate on one thing at a time. Really. As a matter of fact, we might all be a lot better off if everyone did just that.
And sometimes, of course, it's okay to do absolutely nothing at all. Sometimes there's nothing we'd rather do.
Tetris Girl sez: "If I rotate this blog's feed 90 degrees counter clockwise, it will fit into my life."