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iPretend You Don't Exist

Rip out those little white headphones before its too late

By John Hastrup, JOHN W. HASTRUP

Got one of those email testimonials from an acquaintance promising a “free iPod with just a few simple clicks of the mouse?” Throw it out!

This advice comes not because engaging in this pseudo-scam might ruin your credit or irritate your friends (which it will), but because the iPod is an elitist, antisocial device that provokes the kind of class divisions of which only Karl Marx would approve. The campus is already divided between the conversation-loving proletariat and the expanding bourgeoisie who choose to forego all verbal communication with fellow students and withdraw entirely into the acoustic bliss of the iPod, or some inferior substitute. Don’t join the ranks of the latter.

Only a fool thinks stylish little white earbuds are benign. The tensions between those who still value social interaction and those who will be called, diplomatically, “pod-heads” are unsustainable. It’s time for a revolution.

Cheaper iPod prices and the aforementioned scam are leading more and more of those we know and love to fall victim to this accursed scourge. Those left untouched should realize the magnitude of the problem or they will soon be in the minority.

The results of pod-headization are devastating. It is not uncommon for the afflicted to miss three or more potential conversations during the seven-minute interchange between courses. At this rate, if we assume a mere twelve potential conversational hours per day, pod-heads miss out on nearly 303 exchanges each day. Does this make those with unconstrained ears 303 times more social? You do the math.

Even when the rare communication breakthrough does occur the results are often mediocre at best. One can’t be sure if that football player just enthusiastically gave the “hey what’s up?” nod or if he was just rocking out to Hillary Duff. Similarly, it is hard to tell whether that cute studious freshman girl is expressing her anger about the party last night or if she just has an affinity for the band Disturbed.

If we knew what music was playing perhaps we could glean some insight into the thoughts and mood of the pod-heads. Do they really think they’re superior, or can the ailment be traced to an abusive past (parents who insisted that talk radio, not music, always be played during road trips)?

As it is, those headphones are like two snobbish middle fingers that never tire or require stretching, extended to all. Who needs the sounds of the birds and the bees, or even friends, when 40 gigabytes of unprotected mp3 files divided into 261 different playlists to suit every mood are available with a simple touch of Apple’s signature “click wheel?”

Pod-heads also hurt themselves in addition to selfishly tearing apart the social fabric of the college. Some students even listen to music throughout entire lectures. Others foolishly think that listening to Rage Against the Machine is good preparation for a free market economics class. These iPodded elite think their musical happyland is better than the real world. Cluelessness is their mark.

Hopelessness, however, should not be the mark of the sane that remain free. Interventions can be staged with iPodded friends before the headphones become soldered to their ears, or worse, they purchase those oh so hip belt clip accessories. These are tough but doable if one capitalizes on the small windows of time just prior to bedtime and after awakening when the afflicted are conscious and the evil little white machines should be recharging.

If all interventions fail, brutal Darwinian realism may have to replace cushy Marxian idealism in the fight for normal human relations. A pod-head’s brain can only handle so much stimulation before it becomes fried and requires a long-term break. Until this happens, numbers will dwindle as pod-heads cannot use their sense of hearing to warn against the unexpected car or bus. They’d better watch out when crossing Mass. Ave.

John W. Hastrup ‘06, an editorial comper, is a government concentrator in Dunster House.

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