I'd probably point to the 1971 Dodge Charger

And the 2015 Dodge Charger.

I mean - cars is cars is cars. They're both Dodges, they're both ugly, they're both expensive.

But the comparison doesn't hold up. For one thing, you really gotta fuck up to not walk away from a wreck in the 2015. The '71 had a steering column that would impale you like a bug. The '15 has eleventy seven airbags and shoulder belts for everyone. The '15 also makes like 700HP and 31MPG. The '71 got 16 with a tailwind and 400HP running voodoo 104 octane nuke gas.

And the '15 is a primitive slug by any automotive standards. It's still running pushrods, FFS.

Here's the thing: the advances of the 20th century were mechanical. You can look at a typewriter from 1915 and a typewriter from 1955 and go "we've come a long way, baby." It's all right there. Your average male could look under the hood of a '71 Dodge and have a pretty good idea what everything was and what it did. The '15? Find the spark plugs in this picture:

So yeah - mechanical advancement hooah. But if I show you an NE5534N...

next to a Westmere EP...

One of them has more pins. But the NE5534 is a quad op amp. The Westmere is a 12 core workstation processor. And if electronics isn't your thing, it doesn't look like "progress."

I think that the 20th century saw an improvement in mechanical things that any casual observer could tell was going from zero to sixty pretty damn quick. I think that if you aren't really big into electronics, the distance between a Motorola Startac and an iPhone seems like a big phone to a little one but it's hella more than that. And I think what you linked to is a variation on "we can put a man on the moon but we can't cure the common cold" which just illustrates that the speaker doesn't understand that the Apollo program was essentially Robert Goddard plus money, energy and trial and error while one of the guys who discovered DNA is still fucking lecturing.

I mean, take a breath. Your phone can give you directions because it leverages general fucking relativity. Your TV is thin and flat because it has the same shit as the surface of the sun instead of an electron tube. And you can get a fucking status report on the diseases and shit you're likely to face in your life for $99 online.

Fuck your paradigm shift. 20 years ago neither you nor I would ever meet, let alone read this article, let alone argue about it. Take a step back to 1971 and imagine the fucking Khan Academy.

Yeah, motorcycles still have two wheels. Your computer still has a QWERTY keyboard. But I said "okay, Google, take me home" yesterday to an empty car and got turn by turn directions to my house from the very fucking building I was in.

Maybe a toaster doesn't need a paradigm shift.

To add: No animosity towards you or anyone here. The argument just gets to me sometimes.

Li'l story. As long-time users of this site are aware, I have completed a novel. And as I was nearing the finish line, I began to think of clever, snide ways to announce to my Facebook friends that I had finished a novel - after all, many of them are also writers. It was a thought I had for a week or two, as I knew I was a few hundred words from done.

Then I typed the last sentence, and sat there, and realized that I'd accomplished something pretty monumental, as far as accomplishments go, and the whole idea of posting ANYTHING on Facebook got really unappealing.

My change of heart was directly related to my perception of Facebook. I have friends that only post when they've accomplished something monumental (one guy has a picture of him with DeNiro, another with the Dalai Lama). I have friends that never accomplish something monumental, so they post their breakfasts. I have friends that post vocabulary words. I have friends that check in whenever they're on vacation. And into this miasma of varying relevancy, I was trying to find some coy, clever way to say "finished a novel, bitchez."

No.

The act of announcing it on facebook would have trivialized my accomplishment. It's like texting a marriage proposal - why would you do that? Why would you sully such a thing with such a nonsensical platform?

* * *

Reddit refugees all have their reasons for leaving the Snoo behind. Most of them are related to the chatter, the chaff, the lack of substance, the insufficiency of content. Speaking as a mod of a default, most of them have no idea just how bad it could be but at the same time, I recognize and appreciate that it still isn't good enough. Over there, I mostly crack skulls. Over here, I mostly talk.

I talk because I think I have something to say.

That, in my trademark overly-verbose manner, is your answer: make the place more of what brought you here. Those things that drove you from Reddit? Do not share them, do not contribute to them, do not encourage them. Those things that brought you here? Add to them, share them, contribute to them.

I will say this. Hubski often has an overly-friendly relationship with self-produced content. Your pictures are going to be shared because many users don't understand the difference between "I support you" and "I want others to see your work." Do not expect a fair critique on anything, and understand that the more you flood the place with sub-par stuff just because you created it, the more likely others are to do the same. Got poetry? try it out on poetry groups, and if they like it, share it. Got photography? try it out on Flickr or the SFWPorn network and if they like it, share it. Got prose? Critters Critique is perfect for you. Hubski lacks the ruthlessness that makes Reddit what it is and in many ways, vacation pictures here will be regarded like Facebook but proliferated like Reddit.

Which is a roundabout way to say "step up your game." We've got some severely talented artisans here and I love to see their work... but I also hate to see their efforts drowned in a miasma of "hot chick shooting in black and white equals art."

It's what you bring to it. If you bring your best, that's what you'll see. If you bring your pun threads, I will mute and ignore you and anyone who responds.

I don't know if I've been waiting for a chance, but it made me laugh and an invitation to tell it is enough to get me to recount it.

It's about two guys who frequent the bar I work at, both are great guys but very different.

Ken is a black man in his late 30's, he was prom king, has more than 2k facebook friends, he promotes some of my towns most popular black social events for people in his age group and younger. He is a handsome, charming, super chill guy who loves hip hop and is a mover and player in the local black young adult community.

Julian is a high strung white kid in his early twenties, talks at a million miles a second and is the furthest thing from chill. He pushes opinions on anything he feels passionate about with relentless arrogance and feels passionate about hip hop.

Both these guys know each other by site, they have shot the breeze as regulars at a bar do but neither really knows each other well. They started up a conversation about hip hop and it was intense. "What's the greatest album," "who's the greatest MC?" "who's got the smartest lyrics?" "who's got the best flow?"

Julian was a terrier, verbally pulling, nipping and shacking in favor of his favorite artists. Laid back Ken responded with gentle "come on man what about xxxxxxx or yyyyyy, don't you think that they really left a bigger mark?" Julians all invective, Ken all calm persuasion. About an hour and a half into the discussion Ken's looking tired, he has a "someone please shut this guy up" look on his face.

By this time I was a bit concerned about the way things were heading, it was close to close and I had a lot to do. I wasn't looking to nursemaid a conversation. I hold both guys in esteem and didn't want to see any distaste or bad blood between regulars but I also wanted to go home, so I let it flow. I probably shouldn't have. Kens like royalty. His house is kitty corner to back patio of the bar, he was the first paying customer that wasn't a friend of the owners, he was a paying customer before the place actually opened for business. Kens brings in a lot of business and more importantly he sometimes even brings us dinner (Ken is an excellent cook). Basically he is a solid gold customer. He is a friend and a guy I maybe should have saved from having to listen an hour and a half harangue from some starry eyed kid. Did I mention Ken is also the primary caregiver for his ancient, alzheimer's ridden, frail and demented grandfather? Shit, Ken is one standup guy.

Julian is a pretty solid guy as well. We aren't a kid friendly bar. We don't serve dropshots, long islands, energy drinks or a great many other youth friendly drinks. We mostly serve great big pores of reasonably priced drinks. If you want to order something that has more than two ingredients it better be a margarita, old fashioned, hot toddy or collins, don't try ordering a "white gummy bear" because it isn't' going to happen. Back to Julian, if you find a kid (24 year old) who is fun, social, can hold his liquor and is happy to get a great big shot with a free beer back, you want him to stick around. We could use some more kids (diversify, diversify as long as it's on your own terms), he'll grow up to be a mature drinker and maybe I don't need Julian to feel the stink eye from Ken when he's bombastically throwing himself around the place.

Julian also has the distinction of being a bit of a hero. When out with a young lady, late at night, he was assaulted by a insane sex maniac at knife point. Julian and his date were held at knifepoint for about a half hour. The man jumped out a bush while Julian and his date were walking. He put a knife to the young ladies throat and another against Julians ribs. He told Julian that the girl was dead if he tried anything or ran. After about a half hour standoff, in which the guy promised to do a bunch of super horrible sexual stuff to them both, the guy took a poke a Julians ribs, drawing blood. Julian exploded in a desperate do or die assault. He managed to free the young lady and she ran for help. In addition to several vicious defensive wounds on his hands and the shallow wound in his side, Julian was stabbed just above his collarbone and had the knife exit just under his shoulder blade, puncturing his lung (it was a stupid long knife to get stabbed with and the guy buried it in Julians chest). The assailant ran from the scene and Julian collapsed. Julian ended up spending a little less than a week in the hospital and didn't pay for most of his drinks many weeks after the incident, The sex maniac was apprehended that very evening. So basically, he is a young, loud mouth affable hero whose way I try to smooth and civilise.

Roughly estimating, I'd say that the odds of a glorious celebration and understanding between generations, race and Suburban/Urban backgrounds cemented between love of hip hop was at about 20%.

Ken asks Julian how old he is, Julian tells him that he is twenty four. Ken smiles. "Twenty four?, Twenty four?, Awwww, you are nothing but a baby." He says "You don't know anything." Ken proceeds to quiz Julian about the foundations of Rap. While not amazing in the scope of his knowledge, Julian mostly keeps his footing on the shaky ground of a twenty four year old white suburban background, especially when contrasted against thirty seven year old hip hop party producer Kens intimate knowledge. That being said Ken was on the attack. Ken had been through and hour and a half of arrogant and bombastic lecturing and was going point by point through the cannon, finding gaps in Julians armor. Then they came to Tupac.

"What was Tupacs first album" Ken asked?

"Oh Shit, Oh Shit, I don't know what his first album was" Julian said, looking up at the ceiling, ponderous and unmanned. "What was Tupacs first album? I have no idea." he said.

"Strictly 4 My N.I.G.G.A.Z.." said Ken, pursed lips, head tilted back, smiling. You could see the "you don't know shit kid" coursing through his countenance (Wikipedia says that Strictly 4 My N.I.G.G.A.Z.. is his second album but I could give a fuck).

"Well how could I know that?" Julian replied "That album obviously wasn't meant for me!"

Kens jaw dropped and burst out with a huge guffaw. Ken laughed for the next twenty minutes, he probably laughed as he headed home after I had kicked everyone out of the place. I know Ken added another facebook friend and hopes to get Julians jest on World Star, and having an additional facebook friend and I bet Julian goes to Kens next party.

Same night some guy tried to order a "Jim Crow" neat. I'm sure he was vacillating between a Jim Beam or an Old Crow and just had everything go wrong, but shit... To his credit he took the debilitating but good natured mocking he got with humility and proceeded to return to his table, drink his drink and get another. It's surprising how often bartenders have to navigate race, class, sexuality and general realities.

I don't think I've written a story in years. Half in the bag here, thinking about someone who passed recently, it would have been his birthday today. I'm sure that my grammar is atrocious, ah well. There was a time many years ago when I could reliably write narrative, hope I didn't waste your time.