Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

Lynx-eyed friends of the decanter will recall that as recently as yesterday Ol’ Robbo was mentioning his suspicion of modern communications technology. Well, damme if another piece of evidence hasn’t fallen into my lap to enforce said suspicion.

The latest exhibit comes in the form of couples’ long distance “touch bracelets”. (Just go to the devil’s website and search for same.) Evidently, when one half presses their bracelet, the other half’s vibrates or glows or otherwise responds. (I gather it works through Bluetooth, which is something else I don’t really understand but believe to have almost infinite range.)

The Young Person who informed Ol’ Robbo of the existence of these gadgets thinks they’re a great idea, being on the cusp of a long distance relationship herself. I suppose that when I was young and gooshy (stop laughing, I was, once upon a time), I’d have thought the same. Now in my wiser years, however, I agree with Admiral Akbar: It’s a trap!

“I touched you but you didn’t respond! What’s wrong?”

“You’re not touching me as much as you did at first! What’s wrong?”

“You keep saying you’re busy with work. You can’t even press a button on your wrist? What’s wrong?”

“You weren’t wearing your bracelet? What’s wrong?”

You get the idea.

The potential capacity of this kind of 24/7 electronic hovering gives Ol’ Robbo a case of the screaming heebee-jeebees, and I know what I’m talking about because Mrs. R is an incessant, compulsive texter herself. At least with that there’s usually some kind of actual content. Usually.

Ah, give me the days when people separated by circumstances wrote letters to each other. The effort of composition, the anticipation of response. Does anybody even do that anymore? (Yes, this is my lawn.)