Well this thread is certainly making me feel like I'm not alone with my olde worlde technology of yesteryear - it seems I'm continually surrounded by people waving pictures of their cute baby/kitten/puppy at me as they scroll through albums on the flat tablet that is their umbilical cord to their entire life.
No offence to anyone who uses all these apps - I mean, I get preoccupied with some seriously trivial bullshit myself, but y'know how many people really need some comprehensive breakdown of statistics when they're skiing? You have precariously snowploughed for X meters and shit. For fuck's sake
We separate your runs, tell you which chair lifts you've taken, clock your time on the chairlift and much more.
Who the fuck wants/needs to know what chairlift they've sat in?? And how long they were in it??? If anyone sat there keeping detailed statistics on what seat on the bus they sat on every morning and how long they sat in it for people would think they were OCD and tell them to see a doctor - stick it on a data mining piece of technology that puts in it a chart and it's suddenly awesome.
And if you're downloading free apps that tell you everything up to the length and girth of your erect penis, the blood pressure and number of thrusts before orgasm and put it in a colour coded pie chart, it's really not surprising that someone has gone to all that trouble because they really want to engage in data mining, presumably so they can sell details about your life to someone else.
And the other insidious thing about this particular kind of app is this thing of reducing everything to statistics - like the way everything in the workplace is preoccupied with performance targets now. What the fuck happened to just having fun? If I went skiing, I'd just want to ski and shit, not sit scrutinising some statistical breakdown of chairlift usage. Instead you're encouraged to reduce everything you do to a string of numbers telling you what you've just done and how you've done it.
Bring back telephone boxes. The stark simplicity of rejected 10ps, the smell of urine and adverts for prostitutes. Those were the days.