There’s a party in the park today. There’s a Bounce for the kids – one of those soft cages kept inflated by an infernal combustion engine spewing noise and fumes for the next 10 hours. You gotta have a Bounce. Otherwise, what would the kids do for fun – run and play like generations before them? (Not  today’s kids: they’ll be on their iPhonePadPlayers texting each other and playing games that involve destroying.)

I have a feeling the noise-generating Bounce is a gateway to a lifetime of similar toys: the BMX, the ATV, the JetSki, all towed behind the self-contained RV with microwave and DVD player, powered by a generator. Now, surely, this is a coincidence. Surely, the Bounce isn’t a cynical tool for pushing children into a lifelong consumer rut (both meanings). However, where does running and playing in the park lead: walking, hiking, maybe even the quiet contemplation and appreciation of one’s surroundings. Where’s the profit in that?

Of course, the Bounce provides parents with a place to deposit the kids while they check their email. They may even get a few minutes to talk with other grown-ups, if they can hear each other over the din.

And tomorrow the park will be strewn with more trash than usual. This obliviousness, indifference, and disdain of place is the logical culmination of our evolution: we don’t need no stinkin’ Earth. The anthrosphere transcends place. When this planet is used up, we’ll order another one. There’s an app for that, surely.