<story><title>Amazon Dash Button</title><url>https://www.amazon.com/oc/dash-button/</url></story><parent_chain><item><author>hypertexthero</author><text>Harper&amp;#x27;s Magazine, September 1996:&lt;p&gt;&amp;gt; From an interview with Kurt Vonnegut in the November 1995 issue of Inc. Technology. Vonnegut was asked to discuss his feelings about living in an increasingly computerized world.&lt;p&gt;&amp;gt;&amp;gt; I work at home, and if I wanted to, I could have a computer right by my bed, and I&amp;#x27;d never have to leave it. But I use a typewriter, and afterward I mark up the pages with a pencil. Then I call up this woman named Carol out in Woodstock and say, “Are you still doing typing?” Sure she is, and her husband is trying to track bluebirds out there and not having much luck, and so we chitchat back and forth, and I say, “Okay, I&amp;#x27;ll send you the pages.” Then I go down the steps and my wife calls, “Where are you going?” “Well,” I say, “I&amp;#x27;m going to buy an envelope.” And she says, “You&amp;#x27;re not a poor man. Why don&amp;#x27;t you buy a thousand envelopes? They&amp;#x27;ll deliver them, and you can put them in the closet.” And I say, “Hush.” So I go to this newsstand across the street where they sell magazines and lottery tickets and stationery. I have to get in line because there are people buying candy and all that sort of thing, and I talk to them. The woman behind the counter has a jewel between her eyes, and when it&amp;#x27;s my turn, I ask her if there have been any big winners lately. I get my envelope and seal it up and go to the postal convenience center down the block at the corner of Forty-seventh Street and Second Avenue, where I&amp;#x27;m secretly in love with the woman behind the counter. I keep absolutely poker-faced; I never let her know how I feel about her. One time I had my pocket picked in there and got to meet a cop and tell him about it. Anyway, I address the envelope to Carol in Woodstock. I stamp the envelope and mail it in a mailbox in front of the post office, and I go home. And I&amp;#x27;ve had a hell of a good time. I tell you, we are here on Earth to fart around, and don&amp;#x27;t let anybody tell you any different.</text></item></parent_chain><comment><author>ChikkaChiChi</author><text>In reality, this man of privilege bounds into the store on a cloud of positivity, only to be met by the sullen face behind the counter, 12 hours into a double shift on a day that she wasn&amp;#x27;t even supposed to be here.  At the Postal Convenience Center, the object of his affection barely registers his presence because she is fears going home to her abusive boyfriend who is probably halfway in the bag already.  When the letter arrives at Woodstock, Carol has to go through the painstaking trouble of scanning in his chicken scratch, and she&amp;#x27;ll spend the weekend fixing that which OCR cannot unearth.&lt;p&gt;The whimsy of Vonnegut betrays the truth that too many of us suffer from too little time in the day to create genuine, shareable moments with one another.  Technology can help beat back that tide by simplifying the tedious, and little by little, we may find ourselves making time to be more present in our everyday lives.&lt;p&gt;Technology should be celebrated, and not feared.</text></comment>
<story><title>Amazon Dash Button</title><url>https://www.amazon.com/oc/dash-button/</url></story><parent_chain><item><author>hypertexthero</author><text>Harper&amp;#x27;s Magazine, September 1996:&lt;p&gt;&amp;gt; From an interview with Kurt Vonnegut in the November 1995 issue of Inc. Technology. Vonnegut was asked to discuss his feelings about living in an increasingly computerized world.&lt;p&gt;&amp;gt;&amp;gt; I work at home, and if I wanted to, I could have a computer right by my bed, and I&amp;#x27;d never have to leave it. But I use a typewriter, and afterward I mark up the pages with a pencil. Then I call up this woman named Carol out in Woodstock and say, “Are you still doing typing?” Sure she is, and her husband is trying to track bluebirds out there and not having much luck, and so we chitchat back and forth, and I say, “Okay, I&amp;#x27;ll send you the pages.” Then I go down the steps and my wife calls, “Where are you going?” “Well,” I say, “I&amp;#x27;m going to buy an envelope.” And she says, “You&amp;#x27;re not a poor man. Why don&amp;#x27;t you buy a thousand envelopes? They&amp;#x27;ll deliver them, and you can put them in the closet.” And I say, “Hush.” So I go to this newsstand across the street where they sell magazines and lottery tickets and stationery. I have to get in line because there are people buying candy and all that sort of thing, and I talk to them. The woman behind the counter has a jewel between her eyes, and when it&amp;#x27;s my turn, I ask her if there have been any big winners lately. I get my envelope and seal it up and go to the postal convenience center down the block at the corner of Forty-seventh Street and Second Avenue, where I&amp;#x27;m secretly in love with the woman behind the counter. I keep absolutely poker-faced; I never let her know how I feel about her. One time I had my pocket picked in there and got to meet a cop and tell him about it. Anyway, I address the envelope to Carol in Woodstock. I stamp the envelope and mail it in a mailbox in front of the post office, and I go home. And I&amp;#x27;ve had a hell of a good time. I tell you, we are here on Earth to fart around, and don&amp;#x27;t let anybody tell you any different.</text></item></parent_chain><comment><author>jkestner</author><text>1. If we&amp;#x27;re here to fart around, the Internet can make us much more productive at that.&lt;p&gt;2. The sibling that notes Vonnegut&amp;#x27;s privileged: Probably. But something tells me so are most of the Amazon Prime members. &lt;a href=&quot;http:&amp;#x2F;&amp;#x2F;www.marketingcharts.com&amp;#x2F;online&amp;#x2F;amazon-attracting-high-income-customers-38741&amp;#x2F;&quot; rel=&quot;nofollow&quot;&gt;http:&amp;#x2F;&amp;#x2F;www.marketingcharts.com&amp;#x2F;online&amp;#x2F;amazon-attracting-high...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p&gt;3. I loved walking and commuting on the T in Boston. I got time to watch or interact with people. Being present in the world is a form of productivity for anyone creating things for people.</text></comment>