Text Speak

r u gng 2 the mal l8r? my dik weyz mor than a ded bird? how mny ppl hav u kild 2day?

The above pithy phrases were all written in text speak. They have secret messages encoded into them, some benign, some radical at best. It took me nearly 14 hours of research to decode each of them, and it took me even longer to get rid of the headache I have from looking at them for more than three minutes. In fact, text speak is sweeping the nation. Children from across the globe send these sorts of messages to each other all day, passing virtual notes about who they like at school, what mp3 they just downloaded, and what kind of hallucinogenic drug they intend to slip into their parents’ coffee so the can go out and have unprotected sex with strangers. Now, I’m as open minded as a guy who writes for a website called ThingsWhitePeopleHate can be. I believe in all the things people who like stuff believe in, and in truth, I think text speak is great. It shows people of all stripes that they can communicate with each other in lots of different ways—not just the officially sanctioned ones.

“So, where’s the hate,” you ask politely. “How can you say you like text speak and then write a whole blog post about hating it?” Well, I’m glad you asked. I was not joking when I said it took me 14 hours to decode those messages. It literally takes me days to figure out what some of my friends are texting me, and I never make it to events they text me about. I can’t begin to estimate how many happy hours I’ve missed because I spent the evening curled up on my bed with my finger up my ass and a pained look on my face as I tried to figure out what “C ewe @ Moos Mcgilicudies” means. And don’t even get me started on how long it takes me to reply. I sent one text message once, and had to spell out the whole title of “Don’t Be a Menace to South Central While Drinking your Juice in the Hood” because I couldn’t begin to figure out the abbreviations. It took me 3 hours to write the message, by which time I missed my booty call opportunity. In the end, I finally just bought one of those damn phones with the whole keyboard. I need a toothpick to type on the thing because the keys were made for Oompa Loompas, but at least I know where the letters are. Still, I know text speak is here to stay, and while I approve of it in theory, until I can figure out what the hell people are saying without two aspirins and a pair of stunna shades, white people are going to have to join me in hating text speak.