Give a public speaker a bad microphone. She might have the vocal power to fill the hall on her own; if she had seen just one more "Stomp the Yard" movie as a teenager, she might have become the 32-year-old star playing a teenie-bopper in a Disney made-for-TV movie; she had chops.
As soon as that mic is in her hands, she can't let go. Even as it loses battery power and ultimately dies, she clutches the useless metal and plastic. She raps it over and over and over. She presses it to her mouth and prays it will eventually fix itself.
There are all those stories of people "feeling depressed after watching Avatar," or of going insane while Blackberry™ had a temporary outage and they couldn't compulsively check their emails and facebook pages.
In short, I planned this to be a drunken revelation that amounted to technophobia. But then. Oh, then -- then I was in the metro, and I saw a teenage boy playing on his cell phone, and the only seat open was right next to him. And from that seat I could see that the kid wasn't playing on his cell phone - he was drafting poetry.
Technology is technology is technology. "Good" and "bad" are terms we can only add after the warranty's worn off.
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