I never cared about the latest technology. I was always comfortably, even enthusiastically, behind the times; I trusted that if I just kept the stuff I had, popular opinion would come around again (as I type, I am listening to a vinyl record on my turntable, while wearing my old Velcro sneaks). But over the past five years, my general suspicion of “progress” has metastasized, growing into a full-blown, reactionary, Luddite hatred for anything newfangled — which is to say, anything that didn’t exist in 1992, my senior year in high school, when civilization peaked.Over the years, it has been painful to be proven so right about technology’s potential to make things worse. I watched as smartphones stole parents’ attention from children; as the Internet brought office work into our bedrooms; as social media became platforms for misogyny and other abuse, as well as the dissemination of dark-money political propaganda. And I looked around and thought, “What was so bad about the age of landlines? Where’s Ally Sheedy? Please pass the Clearly Canadian.” I only got rid of my iPhone 5 last month, after my son dropped it facedown, shattering its screen. (Hello, iPhone 7!)So if you had asked me

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