In the foreword to Amusing Ourselves to Death, media critic Neil Postman proposes that while the world worriedly anticipated Big Brother of Orwell's 1984, we should have been better prepared to fight Huxley's Brave New World.
It's hard to argue that modern technology is without flaws. I wonder, probably too much, how I'll feel on my death bed (or some futuristic equivalent), cursing how much of the years where my knees still worked I binged away on Netflix.
But it might just be unreasonable to suggest we need everyone to think in the same ways their parents or grandparents might have.
It could be the dawn of a new weird time. It could be idea sex has the capacity to give birth to an endless amount of innovation if we're able to keep rubbing up against one another.