Yesterday I was running an errand with my daughter. Our conversation drifted towards Mel Blanc. I explained how Mr. Blanc voiced most of the Looney Tunes characters and how I’d seen a hilarious interview years before in which he went through various voices. A “you had to be there” experience.
Then something amazing happened. Rather than (inevitably) mangle the retelling of Mr. Blanc’s amazing abilities, we pulled out my iPhone. Within seconds she was looking at the interview, which is available — along with so much else — in YouTube. She chuckled along. Our conversation continued. When, she wondered, was Mel Blanc alive? I said I thought he’d died in the early 90s, but that we may as well check. I long-pressed the phone’s home button to evoke Siri. I said, “When did Mel Blanc die?” The reply came almost immediately: “Mel Blanc died July 10, 1989 at age 81 in Los Angeles.”
One of my favorite quotes is from Charles Eames:
Eventually everything connects — people, ideas, objects. The quality of the connections is the key to quality per se.
I’ve been using an iPhone for over a decade. Even so, I’m still astonished at the quality of connections I can make from this device I carry in my pocket. And what’s more, having such a device isn’t a luxury afforded to a fragment of the population. Almost everybody has similar access.
Alas, the ubiquity of the experience has made it table stakes; we take it for granted. Of course you shot 4K video of the birthday party. Of course you cleared your inbox while waiting in public transport. Of course you know how to get there. (What with all the maps of the world and a GPS receiver in your pocket!) Everybody does.
How do we account for everyone having instant access to any piece of information anywhere at any time? Surely not with measures established in and for the world that existed before the small glass rectangles.