*old geezer voice*
In my day, we dinna haf all dis fhancy smhancy 'graphiks' no we didn't! We had books, and our brains w're dee displays screens, and if yer couldn't lookinta da clouds and see a elephatmougous you'ere in big truble me boy! Now if yer want to look at a creature wita thousan'flayi tentacles and a hundre'eyes you jus needa go to the neares'viddy shop and searh'up them japanese dirty-stuff! Nonsense! Why, back then'if we wants to hav disturbing and twisted fantaschees lik tat we hadz to PAY them gud money ta get drunk as an old-foxina chicken pen. An alcoholic chicken pen. And we hadz BOOKS too! Now'ish all abouts World of Whorecraft and havin's a gud's fling with a flat-piture onyer deskhtops...
Scuze'me. Now, as I was shayins, it all be with them pretty pichures nowadays, alls shiny and drawings. Last'times we made them piktures, madez'em wif our own two'ands, soaked the blood'f paints and the flesh of crayons. Oh how we toilsed in those days! A flower'ana three'ana 'ouse covered in reddish tiles, wif them smoke that lookit lika cloud with them loohks lika elephatmougous...but nowsish all about lookin for the best'sm piks on shes winternet thingy, and prints them and sticks them on the walls.
And da stories, oh da stories. Me papa used'ta tuck me inna bed each night, as me mama poured a glass'o' them warm beer, none of that pussy milk stuff you drink now. Took me out lika light it did! Course, I wash'seven back then and it-be a 1-pint jug but ey? Hoosh complain? But anyways me paps would tells me a story everynights, filled ith all the proper gory bits and violence, with Mr Bear knocking the stuffing outta the evil Fluffy Octopuss! Oh...I couldn't sleeps with the excitments sumtimes, but then beers would knock me out soon after tats...but now all youz peoples can do be talk abouts them old stories and 'ow theys be horrible, or wondibibble, wif all them lit-tit-ture and bandwagons and stuff. Ands you has all these knew stories, whicha some freshed old stories with sparkles and fancy graphiks ontops! I sawhs the Little Red Riding Hood! Little kids made me watchits with them while the other shoved pastry inna me ears. Egads, a girl that thin wolda fallen ova the basket, the way she swings it like that! And those eyes! Me thinks da wolf o'eats her would gets swollen from all them bacteria in there, they been swollen liks that.
And da teenagers all payin their Whorecraft cause them too prissy ta go downtown with ten bucks for a proper job. I asks them 'ose the bad guy, o'se them good guys, and who the butler killed this time. They shays there be no baddies or goodies, only lotsa monsters ta kill! I then I goes: oh, so them monsters must be baddies and you be good guys, yes? And then theys stares at me (cause I think me pants fell off then) and says that there dont be any goods or bads, jus them slades of Grey. The only shades of grey I know be the greys on me head. And me armpits. Them goes on aboits hows their favourtie characters be this demon-bat-wizard-robot thing with a gazzlion wings and teeth and claws and everyone thinks he be a monsters except that he ain't cause well, he helps little kids cross the street. Oh wait he doesn't. He just smashes other monsters, so he's good. Except those monsters be helping little kids crossing the street, so their good too! Or bad, cause they breath fire. They all breathe fire. With horns, Good..bads...ugly...Ack, me brain be hurting, time for the pills...Seesh whats I means?
But the point! The points of this ere speech be well...I dunno, what was the points again? Everyone be jus lookin for them points these days. Aesop hads lotsa points, but you dinna listen ta him cause he hadz poinst! No, the bloody bird hadz good story-yelling thats wut. He could shout them tales so loud all the folk would ere him in the mountains over, and thats how them stories spread. But thats not the point, cause there ain't any, shees? Sumtimes ya just gotta tell them stories, but all peoples these days be doin is hitting things, and calculatins numbers, and even with all them pretty graphiks and colors and shows all I ere' them do be talking about the next quarter of experience needs to "lever up" or something, though why them be playin wif see-saws at their age I wouldn't know.
And in the end wells, when we're all done with this and all, its like there be so much colors and lights and good grapiks that show you everything you need, that do all them thinking and imagining for you that well, you dinna need ta do anything no more.
Long times ago we'd look up ina sky and sees the elephatmougous; but now there be no space left for dreaming no more.