Even without the compelling negative example of Tweety McTangerine, I recoil from social media in the same way that Amos Starkadder, leader of the Church of the Quivering Brethren in Beershorn, argues with the fragrant Flora in Stella Gibbons’ brilliant 1932 Cold comfort farm:
“You ought to preach to a larger congregation than the Brethren,” suggested Flora, suddenly struck by a very good idea. “You mustn’t waste yourself on a few miserable sinners in Beershorn, you know. Why don’t you go round the country with a Ford van, preaching on market days?” […]
“I mun till the fields nearest my hand before I go into the hedges and by-ways,” retorted Amos, austerely. “Besides, ‘twould be exaltin’ meself and puffin’ meself up if I was to go preachin’ all over the country in one o’ they Ford vans. ‘Twould be thinkin’ o’ my own glory instead o’ the glory o’ the Lord.”
So this is not so much technophobia on my part; as a “follower” (sic) of Krishnamurti, I’m sure he too would be as mortified by the idea as Amos.
Still, Amos relents under Flora’s subtle blandishments:
“I’m going to go all about in a Ford van. Like the apostles of old, I’ll go about the land.”
On the roar of Moses’ Triumph, see Fun with anachronisms.