Roger That

Roger, host of the obscure Roger That podcast, sat back and began to wrestle with how he planned to present the day’s subject matter.

Recently he’d had an incident that bordered on an epiphany. While on a lengthy drive he noticed that his windshield had collected a large number of splattered bugs. This in and of itself was not podcast-worthy, but it happened only hours after he had a watched a video talking about how it seemed that a decade ago whenever you drove anywhere you’d end up hitting a lot of bugs, yet these days you never seemed to. The video then went on to say this bit of anecdotal evidence seemed to indicate that we might have a problem with declining bug populations.

That’s the incident part. The epiphany part was when he thought about how if you talk about a product or service, look it up online or bring it up in conversation with a friend, you are suddenly inundated with advertisements for the exact product or service. Somehow ‘they’ know. Your smart speaker is listening, your online service provider is listening, your phone is always listening.

What if that has crept into reality as we experience it? What is life is always listening?

The implications were a bit overwhelming.

As was his urge to fiddle with his pen whenever he broadcast his show. He would be fine for a few minutes but as soon as he started getting into the material his hand would grab a pen and fidget away, pushing the clicker shaft in and out relentlessly. Click click click.  The clicker shaft is also called a thrust device. And with good reason. In and out, in and out.

Click click click.

Why not just remove all the pens in the area before starting to stream?

Because his hand needed something to play with, because of nervous energy or anxiety or whatever, as he’d found out numerous times after he’d dropped his pen mid-podcast. His hand would immediately find its way under his shorts to his uncircumcised penis and start to push the tip in and out relentlessly. Click click click. In and out, in and out. When he did this to his pen it inevitably it would explode and make a mess.

Same thing with his penis.

White instead of blue though.

The latter stained his clothes, the former his psyche.

Are you asking yourself why you happen to be reading this at this exact moment?

What is life is always listening?