There was a time when I would’ve read this and said, “HA! That’s hilarious! It’ll never really happen, but that’s a great fucking story.”

Now, I see us pretty much already there.

We have lost so much — and our children will pay the price for our voracious appetite for convenience and technology. It is they who will be the ultimate losers in our relentless race to get there first. I can’t even imagine what their lives are going to be like with this kind of shameless pillaging of their privacy and personal information. There will be absolutely no cushion available to them — no play in their wheel, like we had when we were young. No beating the bank, if necessary. No writing a check for much-needed groceries on Wednesday or Thursday night, with the paycheck coming on Friday. They will either have it, or they won’t. Or they will come to to us for help — which they know they always can.

This makes me want to pack up their checkerboard Vans, their perpetually playing Rocky Horror and Moulin Rouge DVDs, their MAC make-up, their PSPs, their ipods, their Volcomm and Abercrombie and Fitch t-shirts, their Hot Cheetos, their Modest Mouse CDs, their surfboards, their skateboards, their messenger bags with the buttons on them that say “ART FAG”, their Diet Dr. Pepper, their bigass owlie sunglasses, their spangly bangles, their Yankees caps, and their tee-tees (the little silky blankets from their babyhoods that all three of them still have in their beds) and spirit them far, far away. But, to where? And is there anyplace even far enough away from here to save them?

Sadly, I don’t think so. But as a mother, I will never stop looking.

Ordering a Pizza in 2007

Operator: “Thank you for calling Pizza Hut. May I have your…”
Customer: “Hi, I’d like to order.”
Operator: “May I have your NIDN first, sir?”
Customer: “My National ID Number, yeah, hold on, eh, it’s 6102049998-45-54610.”
Operator: “Thank you, Mr. Sheehan. I see you live at 1742 Meadowland Drive, and the phone number’s 494-2366. Your office number over at Lincoln Insurance is 745-2302 and your cell number’s 266-2566. Which number are you calling from, sir?”
Customer: “Huh? I’m at home. Where d’ya get all this information?”
Operator: “We’re wired into the system, sir. I already knew from the Caller ID where you are. I was just checking to see if you were honest.”
Customer: (Sighs) “Oh, well, I’d like to order a couple of your All-Meat Specialty pizzas…”
Operator: “I don’t think that’s a good idea, sir.”
Customer: “Whaddya mean?”
Operator: “Sir, your medical records indicate that you’ve got very high blood pressure and extremely high cholesterol. Your National Health Care provider won’t allow such an unhealthy choice.”
Customer: “Dang . What do you recommend, then?”
Operator: “You might try our low-fat Soybean Yogurt Pizza. I’m sure you’ll like it.”
Customer: “What makes you think I’d like something like that?”
Operator: “Well, you checked out ‘Gourmet Soybean Recipes’ from your local library last week, sir. That’s why I made the suggestion.”
Customer: “All right, all right. Give me two family-sized ones, then. What’s the damage?”
Operator: “That should be plenty for you, your wife and your four kids, sir. The ‘damage,’ as you put it, heh, heh, comes to $49.99.”
Customer: “Lemme give you my credit card number.”
Operator: “I’m sorry sir, but I’m afraid you’ll have to pay in cash. Your credit card balance is over its limit.”
Customer: “I’ll run over to the ATM and get some cash before your driver gets here.”
Operator: “That won’t work either, sir. Your checking account’s overdrawn.”
Customer: “Never mind. Just send the pizzas. I’ll have the cash ready. How long will it take?
Operator: “We’re running a little behind, sir. It’ll be about 45 minutes, sir. If you’re in a hurry you might want to pick ’em up while you’re out getting the cash, but carrying pizzas on a motorcycle can be a little awkward.”
Customer: “How the heck do you know I’m riding a bike?”
Operator: “It says here you’re in arrears on your car payments, so your car got repo’ed. But your Harley’s paid up, so I just assumed that you’d be using it.”
Customer: “@#%/$@&?#!”
Operator: “I’d advise watching your language, sir. You’ve already got a July 2006 conviction for cussing out a cop.”
Customer: (Speechless)
Operator: “Will there be anything else, sir?”
Customer: “No, nothing. Oh, yeah, don’t forget the two free liters of Coke your ad says I get with the pizzas.”
Operator: “I’m sorry sir, but our ad’s exclusionary clause prevents us from offering free soda to diabetics.”