I actually kind of enjoy texting, as it seems like typing out a secret code. But this made me laugh.
In his La Dolce Vita column in the Village Voice, Michael Musto nails – fingernails – the problem with texting:
TextmessageCan I just say how much I detest texting? It's a technological travesty and a logistical nightmare that's wearing down my will to live. A simple call would resolve all pertinent issues—what are we doing, where, why, etc.—in a matter of seconds, but instead you're forced to engage in an Olympic typing battle that takes giant chunks out of your day while making your knuckles sore, just to eke out a simple "going out tonight." What's worse, you meant that as a query, but since you have no idea how to type a question mark, it's a wasted exchange; your friend promptly responds "that's nice" and powers off (as you marvel that he knew how to do an apostrophe).
Gryphyrie of Talanna
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