Two separate and unrelated incidents have caused me to think about our friend The Internet a lot more than I usually would (which is to say, x > 0).
How much of our lives have we surrendered to The Internet? As I remarked to one of my fellow grad students during anecdote 1, I really can't imagine how in the hell political scientists compiled large data sets in Ye Olde Days.
Of course, that is hyperbole. I can imagine it. It involved going to a basement in a library in some state capitol and poring through thousands, if not millions, of musty, yellowed pages.
The mass quantity of data I have collected from the Census Bureau (~14 days) would probably have taken 9 months to do "by hand." Our Government Info library keeps hard copies of Census publications and raw data. The Census 2000 material takes up 3/4 of a floor.
And it's not a small library.
Aside from the fact that my research (about which, let's face it, no one else really cares) casts itself on the mercy of the internet gods, the extent to which it has become a crutch throughout my life is pretty amazing. I get absolutely zero information from TV news (can't stomach it) or newspapers (I read one on Sunday, if that). I haven't listened to the radio in years.
I haven't written anyone else a letter in more than a decade. I communicate daily with people I may never meet (i.e., you) and forge relationships through the blog-o-sphere with people who may not even be real for all I know.
So yes, it's corny and trite to do a "wonders of the modern age" post, but goddammit, I think we could do worse things with our time than spending a few minutes thinking, "What the hell would I do if this thing disappeared?
" That red button makes me nervous.