Commentary: This is not a crab dinner, mixer or soiree, but a crab feed

Time Traveler: I was born into the wrong century and even now have been unwilling or unable to adapt to this century, or the one previous. Since I have not adapted to the world as it is, I have managed, at least so far, to make the world adapt to me. I realize it is somewhat inconvenient for those who have to deal with me, but I would rather inconvenience everyone else than inconvenience myself. Self-centered and inconsiderate, you say? No doubt, but I'm an old man so sue me. I do not own a computer, word processor or smartphone, and my spell check is the eraser on my #2 Ticonderoga pencil. The information I acquire takes some effort. Google will tell you what you want to know, but it's just handed to you. There is no need to retain it, rendering it virtually useless. Now that we have determined I am a 19th-century throwback, let me share my view of the world as seen from a distance: I see a world so overwhelmed by the 24-hour news cycle that things change so rapidly everything has become a blur. No time to stop, reflect and smell the roses. Of course, at my age, when I smell roses, I start looking around for the coffin. I see a society so immersed and enamored by technology they don't see what it is doing to them; kind of like not seeing the forest for the trees. More and more people are avoiding face-to-face contact, preferring to text. Texting is a lousy way to communicate anyway, and now I hear there is some shortcut called an emoji. Hell, in another 10 years, we will be communicating in grunts and whistles again. Now, a lot of people are all atwitter about artificial intelligence. Remember 2001: A Space Odyssey? Remember Hal? The sad fact is technology has expanded beyond our ability to control it. Imagine, if you will, throwing the most basic flip phone into a gorilla cage. The apes will pick it up, smell it and taste it to see if it's worth eating. But they are not smart enough to use it. The problem is, how do you get the phone back out of the gorilla's cage? Sadly, high technology has been tossed into the gorilla cage of humanity, and I fear there is no way to get it back. Many readers out there are smugly saying, "That poor simpleminded old man is so wrong." Wish I were, but in the words of some famous thinker: "We exist in a bizarre combination of stone-age emotions, medieval beliefs and godlike technology." Face it folks, at our core we are still monkeys. If this were not so, then why, in a world where lights turn on and off at a simple voice command and cars drive themselves, do we still go out to the backyard to roast a dead beast over an open flame, spending the evening swatting flies and mosquitoes? Inasmuch as I have not gone through my usual seven sharpened pencils, please indulge me in one more example: Four or five years ago, I attended an event at the fairgrounds. All of Placer County's royalty was in attendance. Everyone who had been elected to anything, who were somebody or thought they were somebody, was there. At that time, I wrote a column about the event and even though the column is an old one, it still has relevance today. It read as follows: "Last weekend, I attended a crab feed at the Gold Country Fairgrounds. I've always thought the term crab feed was interesting. Not crab dinner, crab mixer or crab soiree, but crab feed. Sounds like something you would do at a stockyard. What I've noticed is how much these feeds change people. They arrive well-dressed, sophisticated and mannerly, delicately sipping wine or beer out of plastic cups with their pinky fingers extended and chatting away. Then, the pans of crab legs are thrown on the table and, in an instant, thousands of years go right out the window. These same people are up to their elbows in crabs, ripping and tearing the little critters apart with bare hands, teeth or anything else they can get their hands on. With bits and pieces of crab shell in their hair and butter dripping down their chins, they look like a cave full of Neanderthals sucking the marrow out of mammoth bones. The most frightening thing to me was the behavior. When our pan was empty, I reached over to Bruce Cosgrove's side and Bruce, who is usually very polite and mild-mannered, snarled and snapped at me … tried to bite my hand. Jim Holmes and Mike Carson from Gold Hill Gardens were across the room rolling around the floor fighting over the last drop in the butter bowl." This was a long way to go to get a plug in for the Native Sons of the Golden West Auburn Parlor #59, but they are hosting a crab feed on Saturday, Feb. 19, at the Gold Country Fairgrounds. The feed will feature all-you-can-eat crab, spaghetti, clam chowder, bread, salad, oyster bar and much more. Proceeds are distributed back into the community. Doors open at 5 p.m. Tickets are $80 per person and can be purchased by contacting Ray Thompson at 916-747-5541. Tickets will not be available at the door. I hope to be there to continue my studies on Primitive Man.