If a little knowledge is a dangerous thing, a whole lot of knowledge can be a disaster!
At the end of World War II, knowledge was doubling every 25 years. Back then, you had time to learn something and depend on it being “correct” for awhile. Now knowledge is doubling every 13 months, and IBM predicts that with the “internet spread of facts,” knowledge will soon double every 12 hours!
We’re drowning in information as it is! There’s too much to read, too much to hear, too much to know! And the more I know, the more confused I get!
I’ve tried to avoid confusing myself with too much technology because every techie person I meet tells me more than I can comprehend. But with more knowledge to grasp, we have to have more technology to manage it, but I’m already way in over my head.
We had a new security system installed awhile back. When the installer finished, he brought us to the blinking panel. “Let me show you a few things about your system,” he said, as he began flipping switches, punching buttons and talking 90 miles an hour.
When he finished 30 minutes later, he had covered 50 ways to program the device, what it does in case of nuclear attack and how to order a pizza on the thing. My mind had quit before hearing how to activate the system the first time.
“Any questions?” he asked.
“Uh, how did you say we turn it on?” I asked. He slapped down a pamphlet with a website scribbled on it and exited in disgust.
If it were up to me, the prefered home alarm system would be what we’ve always used: two small, furry, loud-mouthed dogs that alert us to anything moving in the yard.
I don’t have a technical brain. But when I ask a simple question about a technical device, the “expert” wants to tell me how to use it to hack into the Pentagon security system and steal military secrets. Just tell me where the ON switch is!
And it’s not just too much information, it’s information that’s destroying my happiness.
I was reasonably happy just putting a Little Debbie fudge roll into my mouth and swallowing. Then the buttinski federal government compelled Debbie to inform me that every one of her treats has 400 calories of pure saturated killer fat in it. It’s enough to make me stop eating fudge rolls! OK, not really. But all the facts have taken the fun out of Little Debbie.
Have you looked at a product manual lately? When I bought a new cooktop for my kitchen, all I wanted to know was how to turn it on. But before I could get to the instructions for operation, I was forced to read “Important Safety Instructions.” First, I had to make sure my cooktop was installed by a qualified technician, or my whole house could go up like a pan full of flaming bananas foster. My carpenter never claimed to be a “technician,” but he seemed to have all the red wires connected to the other red wires, and my fancy security system wasn’t flashing “FIRE.” I must be okay.
As I read on, I was told NEVER (capitalization means danger in the instruction world) to sit, climb or stand on the appliance (as if I could haul myself up on the counter). I must NEVER try to repair the cooktop myself and NEVER leave gasoline near the cooktop.
I decided that the only safe way to use this cooktop was to unplug it and put a nice vase of flowers in the middle of the burners, then put my food in the microwave to cook.
But the champ of excessive and frightening information is the pharmaceutical ad. The other day I was stimulating my brain with a TV re-run of “Dog the Bounty Hunter” when a commercial came on for an anti-allergy prescription — Snort-No-More, or something like that. It promised me an end to itchy, watery eyes, a runny nose and congested breathing. It suggested that I contact my doctor immediately to ask about this great product.
Just as I reached for my phone to call my medical professional to get a prescription for this blessed relief, I realized that while the actress in the TV ad was still galloping allergy-free through a field of flowering pigweed, the commentator was quietly adding additional facts: “Side effects include headache, nausea, shortness of breath, gasping, hemorrhoids, hair loss, drooling and mental deterioration. And nine out of ten patients experience explosive diarrhea.”
You know, I thought, as I put my phone down, these allergy symptoms aren’t really bothering me so much. It’s not a problem to rub my itchy eyes and blow my nose occasionally. I think I’ll pass.
Once again, too much information was decreasing my quality of life.
I don’t want any more information. Ignorance really IS bliss. So if you see me staring at my computer with my eyes glazed over, don’t give me any instructions. Just point to the ON button and keep on walking.
A little silent, low-tech help never gave anybody hemorrhoids, hair loss or diarrhea.
