Today I had a Zoom meeting with other board members of Mystery Writers of America or MWA. I’d had my first Zoom meeting several months ago, pre-COVID19, but, that doesn’t count. Anything PC19 doesn’t have the sincerity or desperation about it that AC19 (after Covid19) has. Yes, nowadays it’s just you, me, and our chitty-chatty computers.
In case you don’t know what Zoom is, it’s a video chat something or other. I hope I’m not being too technical here. There’s also Skype. But I think that one fell out of favor. In any event, it’s last year’s model. I haven’t met anyone who Skypes anymore.. Old hat, doncha know. But don’t ask me, ask TechCrunch who compares these apps the way we compare Cheerios, Honey Bunches of Oats, and Trix. Basically, these apps aren’t just the wave of the future, they’re the waves that smack us in the face while we’re buried up to our necks in the sands of time. And if you think that’s a bad analogy, stay tuned.
I have even used Marco Polo on my iPhone upon occasion for a one-on-one chit-chat with hubby’s Auntie Marcia. She likes that one and as I love her, I do it. For hoards of people, tho, there’s Crowdcast and Livestorm. Livestorm even lets you have an event widget, whatever that is. Apparently, all you need is a computer with a camera and mic and you, too, can run Yankee Stadium.
Okay, I know is this me, but what happened to the phone? or a postcard? or a letter? Or have I been swept away by the sands of time into a bog of partially decaying plant matter upon which my chitty-chatty computer rests? I warned you my analogies would get worse.