Sounding like Robert Plant in “D’yer Mak’er”, I told the gal at the deli, “Please, please…put the spicy cheese…on my submarine.” She complied and then followed me around for the rest of the day like my own personal groupie, like a rock and roll dream.
Seriously though, and you never know, just where the barchive might go, there seems to be a new trend in singing orders through drive-thru microphones and cell phone ‘phones to order everything from pizza to drones. Anywhere someone finds a microphone, and if they dare, they bare their soul with a belted lyrical phrase and a tuneful slant. There are far fewer inhibited and dull.
Could it be that in the day and age when cameras are the rage, everyone acts as if they’re on stage? Could it be that people are growing accustomed to this technological life, in which people across the world know your name and the artificial intelligences have your tastes and preferences on speed-dial? Could it be that the million masses have grown up so immersed with in-your-face technology that they adapt an in-your-face style?
Will we even recognize our own humanity in fifty years, when I’m old, and you’re old, and the youngsters of that day have cameras embedded in their foreheads and cellular communication links biologically fused to their tongues? Will we even care that they stare at our foreheads which will be sans lens? Will we be slow to cow tow to the neo-techno, or will we dive in like hungry demented technophile zombies?
I don’t really know how it will go. All I know is that like Robert Plant, I need to “Ramble On”.