Thought Catalog

The Digital Age

An Open Letter To The People Who Hit ‘Reply All’

Oh, John and Holly. Holly and John. I know nothing about you. I don’t even know if you know each other, or if you are as much of strangers tethered by circumstance as I am to each of you. Perhaps the only point of intersection in our lives is Amanda, our sole mutual friend — the same girl whose words sealed our fates together in the first place.

Why We Don’t Have Flying Cars

Once we’ve mastered the inch high hover, we can move another inch off the ground, then another, and keep raising the hovering car until a child of about eight or nine can walk under it. Oh what a utopia it will be! No longer will potholes and speed bumps impede our driving. No longer will kids chasing balls or dogs chasing kids chasing balls be hit by cars.

The Real Reasons I’m Not Texting You Back Right Now

Texting me after 10 on a weeknight is a lost cause dude. I’m watching episodes of Seinfeld on my couch, in my sweatpants, eating pizza. I turned off Social Me like an hour ago, and once I turn it off for the night, it doesn’t come back on until tomorrow, midday at the earliest.

Love In The Time Of Tumblr

Before the onset of the Digital Revolution, how many discretely worded ads in the Personals section of the daily paper included some self-aggrandizing variant of “I enjoy long walks on the beach”? Let me answer: All of them.

Some Tweets From US Presidents, If They Had Twitter Then

Here are a few imagined past US presidents’ Twitter musings, had these men been privileged enough to experience the world of microblogging and oversharing culture in their time as presidents of the United States of America. Please forgive any historical innacuracies–this contributor was a psychology major.

Videos From Your Dead Grandpa

Years will pass—centuries even. The sheer volume of videos I’ve produced will flabbergast my descendents in the distant future. In the videos, I will say things like, “In my day, we listened to music on matchbox-sized devices we kept in our pockets. We didn’t have microchips implanted in our brains that spontaneously generated the most neurologically stimulating music for that precise moment.”

Sweet Nothings From The Spam Box

Like the meat product from which it gets the name, spam is a special sort of deception. The promise sounds great: it’s easy, it knows us inside and out, all we could ever possibly desire is right there within the particulars of its offer. Spam knows how complicated my life is most of the time and has made it simple for me.