As Thanksgiving dinner digested and the children wandered off until they heard the word dessert, newspapers became one of our many topics of conversation. My mother expressed displeasure in the local paper’s recent changes and my father scoffed at my suggestion that he was the last generation to rely on newspapers. Actually, he laughed at me in that condescending way that makes my skin crawl. “Most people don’t live in an isolated computer bubble.” He proceeded to defend his belief that newspapers are the primary news source for “regular” people. I promptly asked him when he first heard about the tragedy in Mumbai. He made a cranky remark about that area of the world and my mother’s eyes glazed over as she went to her happy place to avoid participation in this discussion. I pointlessly tried to talk about the immediate Mumbai conversations taking place over Twitter. Conversations about cases of almonds and dried fruit. Links to pictures of raw, harsh destruction. Flickr immediately upgrading someone’s account for free so that they could continue posting pictures. Pictures of clean-cut boys younger than my children with assault weapons in their hands. My words rang on deaf ears. Any doubts I may have had about the bubble that I live in were completely erased by the fact that I recognize that this world is very small and we are all too connected to deceive ourselves that we are any distance from any other country. I prefer my bubble of awareness to their bubble of, whatever you want to call it. The bubble of people who think computers are only for chain letters, memes, games and porn?