Her. Big, freakin’ deal. We all know technology is leading us astray. That our fixation has become the screen element rather than the human one. That we’ve had a private love affair with entities we deem can never dump us, can never hurt us. Can a machine dump your @$$ at the curb—apparently— now it can. How low do we have to stoop to figure this out. Did we really need it honed in that we’re a bunch of fools if we thought we could replace people with robotics. Date over the internet, speed date our way to hell, let data find our soul mates.
The generation that has crammed computers down our throats for the past forty years are just now beginning to realize that “oops, we may have gone to far with giving credence to data” and “make it stop”.
The movie made me cry yet not because it was endearing, or tender, because once more, twelve dollars down the theatre bathroom drain. However, I had some of the best conversations in the theatre bathroom with people who needed an excuse to go wash their hands over and over during that too many used Rams and not enough megabytes to go around – movie.
The moral of this story was –cause I searched for one other than the blatant ”’what has this world come to” — probably wanna try dating somebody real and with somewhat of a pulse. Someone sporting DNA to him or her and someone not programmed to be accurate for you plus a little less square (laptop square).
The choice is still ours as people remember that next time you’re computer shopping. If you can imagine modem with a bikini — seek advice and I don’t mean the geek squad at Best Buy type advice.
Sorry, I may have gone off on a tangent and that’s just because the movie Her was quite dispensable from my data bank.