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MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: multipart/alternative; boundary="----=_Part_4_170053038.1488391033395" X-SMTPAPI: {"category": "20170301-125325-742-377"} List-Unsubscribe: Feedback-ID: 20170301125325742377 Message-ID: <0.0.0.0.1D292C559A40A26.2C1D25C@mail.makeiithapens.com> X-Spam-Score: 3.6 (+++) X-Spam_score: 3.6 X-Spam_score_int: 36 X-Spam_bar: +++ X-Spam-Report: Spam detection software, running on the system "stodi.digitalkingdom.org", has NOT identified this incoming email as spam. The original message has been attached to this so you can view it or label similar future email. If you have any questions, see the administrator of that system for details. Content preview: fourteen k Mae exhaled through her nostrils. I love it when you do that, he said. Does that mean you have no answer Listen, twenty years ago, it wasnt so cool to have a calculator watch, right And spending all day inside playing with your calculator watch sent a clear message that you werent doing so well socially. And judgments like ‘like and ‘dislike and ‘smiles and ‘frowns were limited to junior high. Someone would write a note and it would say, ‘Do you like unicorns and stickers and youd say, ‘Yeah, I like unicorns and stickers! Smile! That kind of thing. But now its not just junior high kids who do it, its everyone, and it seems to me sometimes Ive entered some inverted zone, some mirror world where the dorkiest in the world is completely dominant. The world has dorkified itself. Mercer, is it important to you to be cool Do I look like it is He passed a hand over his expanding stomach, his torn fatigues. Clearly Im no master of cool. But I remember when youd see John Wayne or Steve McQueen and youd say, Wow, those guys are badass. They ride horses and motorcycles and wander the earth righting wrongs. Mae couldnt help but laugh. She saw the time on her phone. Its been more than three minutes. Mercer plowed on. Now the movie stars beg people to follow their Zing feeds. They send pleading messages asking everyone to smile at them. And holy , the mailing lists! Everyones a junk mailer. You know how I spend an hour every day Thinking of ways to unsubscribe to mailing lists without hurting anyones feelings. Theres this new needinessit pervades everything. He sighed as if hed made some very important points. Its just a very different planet. Its different in a good way, Mae said. There are a thousand ways its better, Live From Washington [...] Content analysis details: (3.6 points, 5.0 required) pts rule name description ---- ---------------------- -------------------------------------------------- 0.0 URIBL_BLOCKED ADMINISTRATOR NOTICE: The query to URIBL was blocked. See http://wiki.apache.org/spamassassin/DnsBlocklists#dnsbl-block for more information. [URIs: makeiithapens.com] -0.0 SPF_PASS SPF: sender matches SPF record 0.8 MPART_ALT_DIFF BODY: HTML and text parts are different 0.7 MIME_HTML_ONLY BODY: Message only has text/html MIME parts -1.9 BAYES_00 BODY: Bayes spam probability is 0 to 1% [score: 0.0000] 0.0 HTML_MESSAGE BODY: HTML included in message 1.9 RAZOR2_CF_RANGE_E8_51_100 Razor2 gives engine 8 confidence level above 50% [cf: 100] 0.5 RAZOR2_CF_RANGE_51_100 Razor2 gives confidence level above 50% [cf: 100] 0.9 RAZOR2_CHECK Listed in Razor2 (http://razor.sf.net/) -0.1 DKIM_VALID Message has at least one valid DKIM or DK signature 0.1 DKIM_SIGNED Message has a DKIM or DK signature, not necessarily valid -0.1 DKIM_VALID_AU Message has a valid DKIM or DK signature from author's domain 0.8 RDNS_NONE Delivered to internal network by a host with no rDNS 0.0 MIME_HTML_ONLY_MULTI Multipart message only has text/html MIME parts ------=_Part_4_170053038.1488391033395 Content-Type: text/html; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit fourteen k Mae exhaled through her nostrils. I love it when you do that, he said. Does that mean you have no answer Listen, twenty years ago, it wasnt so cool to have a calculator watch, right And spending all day inside playing with your calculator watch sent a clear message that you werent doing so well socially. And judgments like ‘like and ‘dislike and ‘smiles and ‘frowns were limited to junior high. Someone would write a note and it would say, ‘Do you like unicorns and stickers and youd say, ‘Yeah, I like unicorns and stickers! Smile! That kind of thing. But now its not just junior high kids who do it, its everyone, and it seems to me sometimes Ive entered some inverted zone, some mirror world where the dorkiest in the world is completely dominant. The world has dorkified itself. Mercer, is it important to you to be cool Do I look like it is He passed a hand over his expanding stomach, his torn fatigues. Clearly Im no master of cool. But I remember when youd see John Wayne or Steve McQueen and youd say, Wow, those guys are badass. They ride horses and motorcycles and wander the earth righting wrongs. Mae couldnt help but laugh. She saw the time on her phone. Its been more than three minutes. Mercer plowed on. Now the movie stars beg people to follow their Zing feeds. They send pleading messages asking everyone to smile at them. And holy , the mailing lists! Everyones a junk mailer. You know how I spend an hour every day Thinking of ways to unsubscribe to mailing lists without hurting anyones feelings. Theres this new needinessit pervades everything. He sighed as if hed made some very important points. Its just a very different planet. Its different in a good way, Mae said. There are a thousand ways its better,

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I can help, Mae said. Please, honey. You have to grant him some dignity. Bonnie! His voice boomed from inside the house. Maes mother grabbed her hand. Mae, sweetie, just get your stuff and well see you in a few weeks, okay Mae drove back to the coast, her body shaking with rage. They had no right to do that, to summon her home and then cast her out. She didnt want to smell his ! She would help, yes, any time she was asked, but not if they treated her that way. And Mercer! He was scolding her in her own house. Jesus Christ. The three of them. Mae had driven two hours there, and now was driving two back, and what had she gotten for all this work Just frustration. At night, lectures from fat men, and during the day, shooed away by her own parents. By the time she got back to the coast, it was 4:14. She had time, she thought. Did the place close at five or six She couldnt remember. She swerved off the highway and toward the marina. When she got to the beach, the gate to the kayakstorage areas was open, but there was no one in sight. Mae looked around, between the rows of kayaks and paddles and life preservers. Hello she said. Hello! a voice said. Over here. In the trailer. Behind the rows of equipment, there was a trailer, on cinderblocks, and through the open door, Mae could see a mans feet on a desk, a phone cord stretching from a desk unit to an unseen face. She walked up the steps, and in the darkened trailer she saw a man, in his thirties, balding, holding his index finger up to her. Mae checked her phone for the time every few minutes, seeing the minutes slip away: 4:20, 4:21, 4:23. When he was off the phone, he smiled. Thanks for your patience. How can I help Is Marion around No. Im her son. Walt. He stood and shook Maes hand. He was tall, thin, sunburned. Nice to meet you. Am I too late Too late for what Dinner he said, thinking hed made a joke. This time he was wearing a thick white robe a friend of his had pilfered from a Los Angeles el. Her mother was outside, using duct tape to repair a plastic garbage can that raccoons had damaged while trying to extract its contents. Mae was feeling dullwitted, her body reluctant to do anything but recline. She had been, she realized, on constant alert for a full week, and hadnt slept more than five hours on any given night. Simply sitting in her parents dim living room, watching this basketball game, which meant nothing to her, all those ponytails and braids leaping, all that squeaking of sneakers, was restorative and sublime. You think you can help me up, Sweet Pea her father asked. His fists were deep in the couch, but he couldnt lift himself. The cushions were too deep. Mae got up and reached for his hand but when she did, she heard a faint liquid sound. Motherbastard, he said, and began to sit down again. Then he adjusted his trajectory, and leaned on his side, as if hed just remembered there was something fragile he couldnt sit on. Can you get your mother he asked, his teeth clenched, his eyes closed. Whats wrong Mae asked. He opened his eyes, and there was an unfamiliar fury in them. Please just get your mother. Im right here. Let me help, she said. She reached for his hand again. He swatted her away. Get. Your. Mother. And then the smell hit her. Hed soiled himself. He exhaled loudly, composing himself. Now with a softer voice he said, Please. Please . Get Mom. Mae ran to the front door. She found her mother by the garage and told her what had happened. Maes mother did not rush inside. Instead, she held Maes hands in her own. I think you better head back now, she said. He wont want you to see this.
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Dont you think this is insane Mae looked at his fat face. He was thickening everywhere. He seemed to be developing jowls. Could a man of twentyfive already have jowls No wonder snack food was on his mind. Thanks for helping my dad, she said, and went inside and waited for him to leave. It took him a few minutes to do sohe insisted on finishing his beerbut soon enough he did, and Mae turned out the downstairs lights, went to her old room and dropped herself into her bed. She checked her messages, found a few dozen that needed her attention, and then, because it was only nine oclock and her parents were already asleep, she logged on to her Circle account and handled a few dozen queries, feeling, with every fulfilled request, that she was cleaning the Mercer off of herself. By midnight she felt reborn. On Saturday Mae woke in her old bed, and after breakfast, she sat with her father, the two of them watching womens professional basketball, something hed taken to doing with great enthusiasm. They wasted the rest of the day playing cards, and running errands, and together cooked a chickensauté dish her parents had learned at a cooking class theyd taken at the Y. On Sunday morning, the routine was the same: Mae slept in, feeling leaden and feeling good about it, and wandered into the TV room, where her father was again watching some WNBA game. To rent a kayak. Oh. Well, what time is it I havent checked in a while. She didnt have to check. 4:26, she said. He cleared his throat and smiled. 4:26, eh Well, we usually close at five, but seeing as youre so good with time, I bet I can trust you to bring it back at 5:22. You think thats fair Thats when I have to leave to pick up my daughter. Thank you, Mae said. Lets get you set up, he said. We just digitized our system. You said you have an account Mae gave him her name, and he typed it into a new tablet, but nothing registered. After three tries, he realized his wifi wasnt working. Maybe I can check you in on my phone, he said, taking it from his pocket. Can we do it when I come back Mae asked, and he agreed, thinking it would give him time to bring the network back up. He set Mae up with a life preserver and kayak, and when she was out on the water, she checked her phone again. 4:32. She had almost an hour. On the bay, an hour was always plenty. An hour was a day. She paddled out, and this day saw no harbor seals in the marina, though she dawdled purposely to try to draw them out. She made her way over to the old halfsunken pier where they sometimes sunned themselves, but found none. There were no harbor seals, no sea lions, the pier was empty, a sole filthy pelican sitting atop a post. She paddled beyond the tidy yachts, beyond the mystery ships and into the open bay. Once there, she rested, feeling the water beneath her, smooth and undulating like gelatin fathoms deep. and I can list them. But I cant help it if youre not social. I mean, your social needs are so minimal Its not that Im not social. Im social enough. But the tools you guys create actually manufacture unnaturally extreme social needs. No one needs the level of contact youre purveying. It improves nothing. Its not nourishing. Its like snack food. You know how they engineer this food They scientifically determine precisely how much salt and fat they need to include to keep you eating. Youre not hungry, you dont need the food, it does nothing for you, but you keep eating these empty calories. This is what youre pushing. Same thing. Endless empty calories, but the digitalsocial equivalent. And you calibrate it so its equally addictive. Oh Jesus. You know how you finish a bag of chips and you hate yourself You know youve done nothing good for yourself. Thats the same feeling, and you know it is, after some digital binge. You feel wasted and hollow and diminished. I never feel diminished. Mae thought of the petition shed signed that day, to demand more job opportunities for immigrants living in the suburbs of Paris. It was energizing and would have impact. But Mercer didnt know about this, or anything Mae did, anything the Circle did, and she was too sick of him to explain it all. And its eliminated my ability to just talk to you. He was still talking. I mean, I cant send you emails, because you immediately forward them to someone else. I cant send you a po, because you post it on your own profile. And meanwhile, your company is scanning all of our messages for information they can monetize.









Dont get dramatic about it. I just want to talk with you directly. Without you bringing in every other stranger in the world who might have an opinion about me. I dont do that. You do, Mae. A few months ago, you read something about me, and remember this When I saw you, you were so standoffish. Thats because they said you were using endangered species for your work! But Ive never done that. Well, how am I supposed to know that You can ask me! Actually ask me. You know how weird that is, that you, my friend and exfriend, gets her information about me from some random person whos never met me And then I have to sit across from you and its like were looking at each other through this strange fog. Fine. Sorry. Will you promise me to stop doing this Stop reading online I dont care what you read. But when you and I communicate, I want to do it directly. You write to me, I write to you. You ask me questions, and I answer them. You stop getting news about me from third parties. But Mercer, you run a business. You need to participate online. These are your customers, and this is how they express themselves, and how you know if youre succeeding. Maes mind churned through a halfdozen Circle tools she knew would help his business, but Mercer was an underachiever. An underachiever who somehow managed to be smug about it. See, thats not true, Mae. Its not true. I know Im successful if I sell chandeliers. If people order them, then I make them, and they pay me for them. If they have something to say afterward, they can call me or write me. I mean, all this stuff youre involved in, its all gossip. Its people talking about each other behind their backs. Thats the vast majority of this social media, all these reviews, all these comments. Your tools have elevated gossip, hearsay and conjecture to the level of valid, mainstream communication. And besides that, its ing dorky. Dont you think this is insane Mae looked at his fat face. He was thickening everywhere. He seemed to be developing jowls. Could a man of twentyfive already have jowls No wonder snack food was on his mind. Thanks for helping my dad, she said, and went inside and waited for him to leave. It took him a few minutes to do sohe insisted on finishing his beerbut soon enough he did, and Mae turned out the downstairs lights, went to her old room and dropped herself into her bed. She checked her messages, found a few dozen that needed her attention, and then, because it was only nine oclock and her parents were already asleep, she logged on to her Circle account and handled a few dozen queries, feeling, with every fulfilled request, that she was cleaning the Mercer off of herself. By midnight she felt reborn. On Saturday Mae woke in her old bed, and after breakfast, she sat with her father, the two of them watching womens professional basketball, something hed taken to doing with great enthusiasm. They wasted the rest of the day playing cards, and running errands, and together cooked a chickensauté dish her parents had learned at a cooking class theyd taken at the Y. On Sunday morning, the routine was the same: Mae slept in, feeling leaden and feeling good about it, and wandered into the TV room, where her father was again watching some WNBA game. and I can list them. But I cant help it if youre not social. I mean, your social needs are so minimal Its not that Im not social. Im social enough. But the tools you guys create actually manufacture unnaturally extreme social needs. No one needs the level of contact youre purveying. It improves nothing. Its not nourishing. Its like snack food. You know how they engineer this food They scientifically determine precisely how much salt and fat they need to include to keep you eating. Youre not hungry, you dont need the food, it does nothing for you, but you keep eating these empty calories. This is what youre pushing. Same thing. Endless empty calories, but the digitalsocial equivalent. And you calibrate it so its equally addictive. Oh Jesus. You know how you finish a bag of chips and you hate yourself You know youve done nothing good for yourself. Thats the same feeling, and you know it is, after some digital binge. You feel wasted and hollow and diminished. I never feel diminished. Mae thought of the petition shed signed that day, to demand more job opportunities for immigrants living in the suburbs of Paris. It was energizing and would have impact. But Mercer didnt know about this, or anything Mae did, anything the Circle did, and she was too sick of him to explain it all. And its eliminated my ability to just talk to you. He was still talking. I mean, I cant send you emails, because you immediately forward them to someone else. I cant send you a po, because you post it on your own profile. And meanwhile, your company is scanning all of our messages for information they can monetize. I can help, Mae said. Please, honey. You have to grant him some dignity. Bonnie! His voice boomed from inside the house. Maes mother grabbed her hand. Mae, sweetie, just get your stuff and well see you in a few weeks, okay Mae drove back to the coast, her body shaking with rage. They had no right to do that, to summon her home and then cast her out. She didnt want to smell his ! She would help, yes, any time she was asked, but not if they treated her that way. And Mercer! He was scolding her in her own house. Jesus Christ. The three of them. Mae had driven two hours there, and now was driving two back, and what had she gotten for all this work Just frustration. At night, lectures from fat men, and during the day, shooed away by her own parents. By the time she got back to the coast, it was 4:14. She had time, she thought. Did the place close at five or six She couldnt remember. She swerved off the highway and toward the marina. When she got to the beach, the gate to the kayakstorage areas was open, but there was no one in sight. Mae looked around, between the rows of kayaks and paddles and life preservers. Hello she said. Hello! a voice said. Over here. In the trailer. Behind the rows of equipment, there was a trailer, on cinderblocks, and through the open door, Mae could see a mans feet on a desk, a phone cord stretching from a desk unit to an unseen face. She walked up the steps, and in the darkened trailer she saw a man, in his thirties, balding, holding his index finger up to her. Mae checked her phone for the time every few minutes, seeing the minutes slip away: 4:20, 4:21, 4:23. When he was off the phone, he smiled. Thanks for your patience. How can I help Is Marion around No. Im her son. Walt. He stood and shook Maes hand. He was tall, thin, sunburned. Nice to meet you. Am I too late Too late for what Dinner he said, thinking hed made a joke. As she sat, unmoving, a pair of heads appeared twenty yards in front of her. They were harbor seals, and were looking at each other, as if deciding whether they should look at Mae, in unison. Which they presently did. They stared at each other, the two seals and Mae, no one blinking, until, as if realizing how uninteresting Mae was, just some figure unmoving, one seal leaned into a wave and disappeared, and the second seal quickly followed. Ahead, halfway into the bay, she saw something new, a manmade shape she hadnt noticed before, and decided that would be her task that day, to make her way to the shape and investigate. She paddled closer, and saw that the shape was actually two vessels, an ancient fishing boat tethered to a small barge. On the barge there was an elaborate but jerryrigged sort of shelter. If this existed anywhere on land, especially around here, it would be dismantled immediately. It looked like pictures shed seen of Hooverville or some makeshift refugee settlement. Mae was sitting, squinting at the mess of it, when, from under a blue tarpaulin, a woman emerged. Oh hey, the woman said. You came out of nowhere. She was about sixty, with long white hair, full and frayed, pulled into a ponytail. She took a few steps forward and Mae saw that she was younger than shed assumed, maybe early fifties, her hair streaked with blond. Hi, Mae said. Sorry if Im getting too close. The people in the marina make a point of telling us not to disturb you guys out here. Usually, As she sat, unmoving, a pair of heads appeared twenty yards in front of her. They were harbor seals, and were looking at each other, as if deciding whether they should look at Mae, in unison. Which they presently did. They stared at each other, the two seals and Mae, no one blinking, until, as if realizing how uninteresting Mae was, just some figure unmoving, one seal leaned into a wave and disappeared, and the second seal quickly followed. Ahead, halfway into the bay, she saw something new, a manmade shape she hadnt noticed before, and decided that would be her task that day, to make her way to the shape and investigate. She paddled closer, and saw that the shape was actually two vessels, an ancient fishing boat tethered to a small barge. On the barge there was an elaborate but jerryrigged sort of shelter. If this existed anywhere on land, especially around here, it would be dismantled immediately. It looked like pictures shed seen of Hooverville or some makeshift refugee settlement. Mae was sitting, squinting at the mess of it, when, from under a blue tarpaulin, a woman emerged. Oh hey, the woman said. You came out of nowhere. She was about sixty, with long white hair, full and frayed, pulled into a ponytail. She took a few steps forward and Mae saw that she was younger than shed assumed, maybe early fifties, her hair streaked with blond. Hi, Mae said. Sorry if Im getting too close. The people in the marina make a point of telling us not to disturb you guys out here. Usually, ------=_Part_4_170053038.1488391033395--