Let out the purple smoke.

I don’t think we’re especially horrible. Every era in human history has been plagued by problems, but no era has been more conscious than ours of human rights and social equity. Though we have a long way to go, people today are among the most moral, conscientious people the world has ever known (yes, I just said that while wearing underwear scrapped together by the chapped, bleeding fingers of third-world orphans. Shut it, I’m going somewhere with this.) That being said, we are certainly the most intellectually stagnant blob of humanity that has ever slithered upon the earth. We armor ourselves in technology, we build nothing, we learn less.

This is what companies used to produce, presumably as commercials leading up to the feature at the cinema.

Is that how that works? Shiot. For real?

There is nothing fluffy about that video. Sure, it breaks it way down, but note the lack of flashy editing, stupid dialogue and tangential, unrelated footage? Do we simply not have the patience for this sort of thing any more, or what? Rather than spending millions on 30 second commercials, why don’t we demand the companies that serve us provide us with something of substance?

When I was 20, I had a neighbor named Caleb that live in the apartment underneath mine. I bought a new video card for my computer, and he offered to help me install it, but he said he wouldn’t do it for me, he’d only talk me through the process. When I expressed (in my wordy fashion) that it would be a bad idea for me to open my computer or touch anything inside it, he took me downstairs to show me his computer.

It looked as fucked up as Mel Gibson at the end of Braveheart–tied to a post and opened up with its entrails spilled out onto the floor. It was on its side with the cover removed. He had to move a pizza box off of it to show it to me. It had balls of hair in it. Hair and a pizza crust. Then he looked at me in the condescending manner of a nerd about to explain something intellectually trivial, and told me that I needed to let the magic smoke out of my computer.

“The wha?” The magic smoke! The mystical, purple fumes that make computers work. Take off the cover and let it out. See what’s in there, touch it, wiggle it, learn its name, learn its purpose, learn how to reach in, tear it out and replace it.

It worked. The purple smoke in my computer was replaced with RAM and a CPU–a graphics card, a BIOS and hard drives. All things I can name, all things I can replace if need be, all that purple smoke aired out in just a few hours time.

Shut up and get the fuck out of my room.

We live in a country–a world filled with purple smoke. We’re afraid of it. We don’t want to see it, don’t want to learn about it. For some reason, we want to not understand it. It’s got to change.