Time was the pundits predicted that technology was going to deliver a paper-less society.   Truth is that was a lie.

Newspaper.  Toilet paper.  Notebook paper. Construction paper.  Typing paper.  Tracing paper.  Computer paper.  Wrapping paper.  Wax paper.  Manila paper.  Card stock paper.  Fly paper. Recyclable paper.  Every kind of paper.  It just keeps coming and coming and coming.

Like mail:  I get a boat load of mail every day.  I go through the stack and throw away 80% of it, file 10% of it, and stack 10% of it on my desk.  I tell myself, "I'll figure out what to do with that 10% tomorrow."  But then I get another 100% tomorrow, processing all but 10%.  That 10% added to yesterday's 10% gives me 20%.  In only 10 days I have 100% paper covering my desk and falling off on the floor.  That's when that panicky feeling sets in.  I realize the invasion of paper is like the Blob, and the Blob of paper is taking over my world.  It never ends.  Every day the mailman brings another boat load of paper to invade my life and ruin my work environment.

Like newspapers:  I wake up in the morning and stumble to the kitchen half blind to start the coffee, then stumble to the front door, and VOILA! - a newspaper!  I settle myself with my first cup of coffee and leisurely catch up on the goings on in the world, nation, state, and city plus the funnies.  Then I stack the newspaper in another chair.  By the end of the week, the newspaper pile runneth over.  My wife finally gets fed up with it and takes the whole stack to the recyclable bin.  But then Wednesday comes and goes and I forget to put the newspapers (and cans and plastic) out for the recycle guys, and then I forget the next week.  And suddenly the carport has mountains of newspapers piled high and dating back to Cro-Magnon Man.

Like copy paper:   It's a proven fact that they design that stuff so that you can bring into the office a 40-pound box of copy paper confident that it will last a month, but in fact it's gone in a week.  That's because the cardboard box the paper comes in is made of lead to fool you.  The 40-pound box really only contains 15 sheets of copy paper.  Poof!  It's gone.

Like toilet paper:  When I lived alone, one roll of toilet paper would last six months.  But now the super-gigantic-extra-large-supposed-to-last-a-lifetime size disappears in three days.  I never have figured out what they DO with all that toilet paper.

Then I find myself in there (you know, THERE) without the necessary supplies.  So I holler out the door proclaiming my plight to all this side of the freeway.  And my wife brings the facial tissue.  Yuk!  Now I know for a fact that the toilet paper creator designed toilet paper with certain properties (the purpose of which I will not go into just now) and the facial tissue creator designed that product with certain other properties like softness and adding perfume and color and size and designer boxes and such.  The qualities of the one does not lend itself well to the purposes of the other.  Well, I could explain further but let's just leave it at that.  It's not a pleasant experience.

The other day I saw a package of "RECYCLED TOLIET PAPER."  Now that's a lovely thought, isn't it?  I don't even want to ask the obvious question about what it
is recycled from.

Far from technology giving us a paper-less society, we now have one where the kinds of paper you don't want mount up and the kinds of paper you do want disappear.