Where is Bletchley Park when you need them?

Lately, each time I boot up my laptop, I am interrupted by a popup admonishing me to update my Sweet IMs. You know, those “happy faces” inserted into online chats to convey a reaction or mood. Having never used the program, I have no idea why I ever thought it was a good idea to have it. If I am unhappy with something, I find it far more effective to say such than to insert a scowling happy face. Which, in itself, is a contradiction of “terms.”

We are a society of messages. We even use license plates on our autos to convey a characteristic or status. MBA 87 obviously means a graduate degree in business. I assume that 1987 was the year that it was awarded and not the age of the recipient. My favorite was the woman who drove the vintage Rolls convertible. Her plate: SNOB.

I once asked a young woman in our office to explain why her automobile license plates read “Hurtles?” “Do you do everything rapidly?” She looked at me with a very puzzled expression and asked for an explanation of my question. “Your license plate, it reads HRTLES. Is it because of your tendency to drive over the speed limit? Or perhaps you perform tasks quickly?

“No,” she exclaimed with exasperation, “I’m heartless.” She was without a significant other.

I am generally at a loss with the cryptic tendencies, which creep into our language either by vanity plates or the written word. I must confess from the outset, I am not an abbreviator. In fact, I have never appreciated abbreviations. My sister annoys me when she says “scripts” for prescriptions and I steadfastly refuse to IL for Illinois when I do that rare thing and send a “snailmail.” But, on the other hand, I am able to answer “yes” or “no” to a question, which, down south is considered rude. In that culture, you are supposed to take your time – ease into the reality – before moving beyond ambiguity. “Let me think about that. You know, hmmmm, no mam, I don’t think so.”

It is all about expediency. We are in a rush to get things done, unless, of course, it concerns a senseless war, national healthcare, or potholes in Chicago Streets. Our conversations become clipped with monosyllables. Our online emails and chats are rife with shortcuts. And nobody seems to remember the difference between you’re and your. O sorry, UR.

Online messages read like a code from a previous war. IB, LOL but AAYF. BST WAG1? R U CAZ? (I’m back, laughing out loud, but as always your friend. But seriously though, what is going on? Are you crazy?”)

Just as we now give a Ph.D. in Comic Book Studies, we will soon recognize Emoticon as a world language. With almost 4,000 recognized Internet acronyms, perhaps many R already there.

I need to run and nuke my breakfast!

XOXOXO
MUAH
BFN