The ability to send invisible,
silent signals through the air, to pass them through a mechanical device and
transform them into soundl—now that’s what I call a miracle!
Yes, it looks just like any other car on the surface – but do you have any idea of what it's truly capable of achieving? There are incredible powers lurking beneath the hood.
“Not often useful.” My Pavlovian response to that elegant formulation is euphoria. I think I will adopt it as my own. Things happen, and now I will be prepared . . .
I've just signed on to Facebook. Immediately, I clicked on the "my friends" tab and sure enough the computer informed that that "You have no friends." I was devastated
In the old days, we were always asking the opposite question: the biology assignment was to prove that a car is not a living organism. But modern life has turned the question around...
Leave a message in my inbox, send me a virtual holiday card, graffiti my wall. Flip through my photo albums for your entertainment and, should you still feel bored, my journal is available for midday reading.
We seem to wear our persona on our screens, leaving almost nothing to the imagination...
Are you investing your life savings based on wikinformation? Are you treating a fatal condition based on a health blog you found? Are you calling a once-in-a-lifetime business contact on a VOIP line?
Infiniti. Millennia. Focus. Quest. Venture. Are these sacred teachings of Jewish mysticism evoking spiritual ideation and feeling? Or the names given by automobile manufacturers for their cars?
Before the 20th Century, "social networking" meant that either people visited you, or you visited them. Back then, "blackberries" were eaten, only birds "twittered" and your "facebook" was an album of monochrome lithographs...
I think I am going to buy a houseplant and name it Ned. I realized I needed a houseplant after my internet stopped working a few hours ago, and there was nobody around to talk to. Mostly I will talk to Ned about the word "in."
Do I detect a hint of snobbery in the polite lady's automated voice as she patiently informs me that she is "recalculating" (yes, I'm not even good at following spoon-fed instructions)? Perhaps she's really thinking to herself, "You poor idiot..."
When we get to the climax of the prayer service, the top rung of the ladder, the Amida, what do we hear? Nothing. Just lips moving. But why? Why, after all the hub-bub, when we get to the heart of our personal conversation with G-d, do we finally go silent?