As many of us all over the world did, I watched the video of the dad who shot the laptop because his daughter is a teenage brat.
It was nostalgic, really. I also realized how much I appreciate having grown up in the era before social media.
For instance, there was no video evidence of the night I said "F*** You!" to my dad, and my sister thought I was going to die. It would be totally embarrassing if anyone saw how tough I really was... hiding in a closet.
Back then, when some kid took topless pictures of half the Senior girls, he got in trouble for DEVELOPING FILM in class. It's comforting to know that if somebody wanted to be pervy with an up-close of my chest, he'd have to go through the photography teacher.
If I had a crush on a boy, I wrote "Ryan Ashley Boys-Last-Name" a hundred and twenty times in PRIVATE. The only type of hacking that would help some busy-body find my love notes would be prying open my combination locker.
When I snuck out to a wild party, not once did I ever worry about a random video posting of my Boones Farm stupidity making it's way back to my parents.
Maybe I'm just old-fashioned. I like my private pictures on photo paper, my secret love notes folded into a triangle, and all of it stuffed into a shoe box in the back of my closet.
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