The Media Bomb

Yesterday, after a day of digesting the tragic bombing which claimed lives and limbs at the Boston Marathon, I posted the following on Facebook:

"I remember when I used to feel as though our government worked hard to prevent terrorist attacks. Either I was young and naive, or our current administration is too busy looking cool and moonlighting on late night talk shows. This is not an anti-Obama statement, but more so a comment on the crap our country prioritizes."

It was a quick rant, not well thought out, and typed out of stubborn ignorance and frustration. But, I'm not apologizing for it. I am allowed to question our president and his administration, and I'm permitted to comment on the temperature of today's politics. I vote and I keep my mind open, but I'm not a fan of Obama, nor his rock 'n roll supporters. And, I don't like when someone of power appears repeatedly on the same late night television talk shows as the likes of Axl Rose and Lindsay Lohan. For me, it sends a message; connecting with the "fans" is more important than doing the work. 

Look, obviously our president works. He works hard. I know this. But, I still. don't. like. presidents. on. David. Letterman. And, I felt safer not seeing presidents so tangible, because it makes me believe they're too busy protecting our country. It's just how I feel.

I do, however, think my Facebook post was a bit too preemptive. In thinking about where my feelings of uncertainty and lack of safety stem, I've come to the conclusion it has much more to do with viral media and technology than it does with the Obamas being on "The View."

See, when I was a tween and there was a war going on in the Persian Gulf, it was nothing more than a rumor. I had no computer home page set to "MSN," nor did I have a smart phone. We didn't have cable, because, back then, one didn't need a bazillion cable channels simply to receive static-free local news channels. And they were just that -- local. The monstrosities that are Fox News, CNN, and MSNBC didn't exist in the capacity they do today.

When I was 16, and if I was lucky enough to be able to sit down to our one desktop computer and dial up some Internet, I had nothing more to do than to type phrases in a Yahoo chat room, or send and receive an e-mail from a friend. It was never more than 15 minutes, either, as my mom often forgot I was online and picked up the phone, severing my connection to the World Wide Web.

There was no iPhone footage of bombings. There was no play-by-play crawler at the bottom of the screen. There were no quick long distance phone calls to multiple friends throughout the country, because long distance cost a grocery bill, and it was seldom used unless it was after peak hours or a weekend.

Nothing beeped, telling me, "There's been a bombing. Several people injured." "Google" was not yet a verb I used to expound upon that beep. News was rumor. What I heard came from my parents, who read about tragedy the day after, in papers, which didn't have pictures from cell phones to publish. Every bit of information traveled more slowly, less graphically, and without the intensity of 30 channels all reporting the same thing from different angles.

So, while I may have felt "safer" back when I was younger, was I? Perhaps it was only my illusion, a naivity allowed to survive because the technology wasn't there to reveal the sordid truth. Maybe, just maybe, my own safety has been the biggest illusion of all.