The Old White Dude Does Not Abide: Hacks Over Tricks? An Unforgivable Transgression

In the labyrinth of language, where words wield the power to illuminate or obfuscate, we find ourselves at the mercy of trends, fads, and the whims of the digital age. Yet, there are stalwarts among us—guardians of lexiconical purity—who resist such capricious shifts. Enter the Old White Dude, a stalwart defender of tradition, now embroiled in a battle against the insidious encroachment of the word "hacks," which has unforgivably supplanted "tricks."

Once upon a simpler time, a time when cell phones were still brick-sized, and the only thing viral was the flu, "tricks" reigned supreme. A trick was a clever maneuver, a cunning stratagem. It was what magicians pulled out of hats and what kids played on Halloween. Tricks were innocent and playful, yet revered for their ingenuity. They had a kind of honest mischief about them, much like the Old White Dude’s nostalgic reminiscences of yesteryears.

Then came the seismic shift. The dawn of the Internet age brought with it a tidal wave of changes, some benign, others malignant. The tipping point? The early 2000s, when tech blogs and life-coach charlatans began to peddle "life hacks." Suddenly, everything had a hack. There were hacks for productivity, cooking, parenting, and even hacks for hacking. The Old White Dude watched in horror as "tricks" were unceremoniously cast aside, like bell-bottoms at a punk rock concert.

Why, one might ask, did this transformation occur? It’s pretty simple: branding. "Hacks" sound edgy and rebellious, the linguistic equivalent of a leather jacket. Tricks? They sound quaint, the verbal relics of an age when people still wrote letters and dialed rotary phones. Hacks promise shortcuts and instant gratification, catering to a generation that wants everything yesterday. Tricks, in contrast, suggest effort and practice—concepts as alien to today’s youth as a landline telephone.

The Old White Dude, clutching his Webster's Dictionary like a talisman, rages against this semantic desecration. He yearns for the days when language had a sense of permanence when words weren't swapped out like car parts in a Formula 1 pit stop. To him, "hacks" is the linguistic equivalent of putting ketchup on a steak—a desecration of something that was perfectly fine to begin with.

There’s a poignant irony here. The Old White Dude, who likely mastered the art of the trick in his youth, now finds himself tricked by time and change. The digital natives have hacked the system, replacing his beloved tricks with hacks. It’s a cruel twist of fate, like watching your favorite band sell out to the pop charts.

In the end, this tale is not merely about words. It’s a narrative of resistance against the relentless march of modernity, a lament for a time when life moved a little slower, and language felt like a well-worn pair of jeans rather than fast fashion. The Old White Dude does not abide, and in his grumpy dissent, we find a reflection of our own struggles against the ceaseless tide of change.

So, next time you reach for a "hack" to solve your woes, spare a thought for the Old White Dude. Remember, beneath his crusty exterior beats the heart of a wordsmith, a craftsman who knows that sometimes, the old ways are the best ways. And maybe, just maybe, try a trick or two—you might find they work just as well.

THIS SATIRE IS SPONSORED BY VICINIA SERVICES