The Written Word is Dead, man...

In my effort to inject maximum irony, I have decided to write another polemic on society. I'm not the first person to say it.

To quote a fiction I read once:

"The written word is dead. Dead as them little Egyptian pictures."

Now, gentle readers, are likely somewhat confused. Aren't I writing words and aren't you reading them?

Perhaps I should say the printed word is dead?  Hard copy is dead? But surely the written word is still here to stay.

Tell that to the newspapers, tell that to the libraries ditching books at sales and the used booksellers burning stock.

So if the written word isn't dead, it is in a coma. I like to think of it that way. I dream a dark dream of a futire where children while away hours in sensies and come across a dusty tome. They have no idea what it is, and, in a fit of pique, they do not immediately discard it. Instead, they take it to their great-uncle.

"What is it?" They ask in fleshspeak, annoyed, obviously, that their Gruncle didn't savvy a telepathy chip. Fleshspeak is so 2013. Slow, ungainly. Conversations *take minutes*.

"It's a book." I say, hoping that they can pay attention, and aren't simultaneously watching YouTube. "In it contains knowledge."

"How do you download it? is there a Usb4 slot? A link?"

"You don't" I chuckle."Not that way. you open it and read."

I demonstrate for them. A pico-nano-second of wonder appears on their faces before being replaced. by boredom again.

"What does this picture mean?" Says X-Hayden12

"That's the title." I say " The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn."

"What's it about?"

"Well," I start "It's about-"

"WikiVid says" interrupts Ninja-Davis "is a novel by Mark Twain, first published in England in December 1884 and in the United States in February 1885. Commonly named among the Great American Novels, the work is among the first in major American literature to be written throughout in vernacular English, characterized by local color regionalism. It is told in the first person by Huckleberry "Huck" Finn, a friend of Tom Sawyer and narrator of two other Twain novels (Tom Sawyer Abroad and Tom Sawyer, Detective). It is a direct sequel to The Adventures of Tom Sawyer."

"What - wait ,now"

"The book is noted for its colorful description of people and places along the Mississippi River. Satirizing a Southern antebellum society that had ceased to exist about twenty years before the work was published, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn is an often scathing look at entrenched attitudes, particularly racism."

I fume.

"Huh, sounds boring."

"Let's go play Diamond Age XII!"

But I digress. I love books. I am surrounded by them right now. But the modern world needs them less and less. And the jobs that need to be done need education less and less. The world values only a small group being educated, even though it benefits from education. 

I admit, lately, I have only read for pleasure. For [redacted] years I spent my time at the foot of words, and their pure knowledge. But that has left me devoid of practical knowledge or experience. 

I'm rambling today, my readers. I suppose I find it a great tragedy that books are no longer as important. That we read articles and watch YouTube and parrot that without thought. I loathe the pure consumer who views and does not contribute. I cringe at the Brave New world we live in, so inundated by information that it's hard to make heads or tails of it. I admire my friends who curl up with musty book by fire and candle light. And admire the ones who go out and write their story with actions.

I suppose this post is much ado about nothing, my friends. 

With Apologies to Steve Jackson, Marl Twain, Neil Stephenson, Aldous Huxley and The Bard of Avon.