Back to the Egg – A Form of Death Anxiety?

“We lived on farms, then we lived in cities, and now we’re going to live on the internet!” – Sean Parker from the movie “The Social Network”

Not sure I’m ready to live on the internet, insulated from the outside world like an embryonic egg, but I seem to be doing a pretty fair job of doing just that. Like most people, I’m always online checking to see who’s contacting me or the latest news updates. I guess it could be worse, i.e., I could be quietly cocooned and fed intravenously like the “sloth” victim in the movie “SE7EN”, which, when you think about it, is only a few steps from my current existence of driving back and forth in a capsule to stare at a screen in my prairie dog hole, aka the office cubicle.

Novak Djokovich, the world’s #1 ranked men’s tennis player, finds relief after a workout by spending time in a hyperbolic egg chamber. It’s pieced together and shaped similar to the one Lady Gaga emerges from on stage where, like a Grade double-A yolk, she emerges, oozing with as much sex appeal as an “Alien” hatchling. For years the tanning gods have found peace and tranquility while basting in brightly lit pods. And Japanese travelers have holed up for an economical, good night’s sleep in hotels filled with rows of coffin-sized drawers in morgue-like stacks.

Of course, it’s not necessary to be confined to some sort of apparatus to accomplish a pre-natal state of existence. Thanks to technology, today’s youth is able to disappear into all sorts of devices, from an iPhone to an XBox. I have nephews who, though they are somewhat active in organized sports, tend to allow themselves to while away their free hours in front of the big screen TV playing video games. It’s as if the outdoors has become foreign to this latest generation. We Boomers never had the destructive benefits of overbearing technology. (By destructive, I mean, a sedentary existence emphasized by a recent report foretelling that 50% of Americans will be classified as obese by 2030.) I remember a day when the TV and radio were the only sources of technological diversion. And unless you were a grownup, you had little control over what was watched or listened to. Instead, we youngsters found ourselves outdoors, roaming and chasing around, engaging in a neighborhood sporting event, or fishing along the river.

These days, you could be on your last leg, old and decrepit, but if you have fingers and a decent set of eyes, you can always pretend you’re still experiencing life via surfing the Web. Imagine the addiction to such technology as the final link between the here and now and the final resting egg as you tweet your last thoughts for the whole world to read. And whoever said we die alone?

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