Genetic muddification: Pavlovian pillocks

Most of us are familiar with the Pavlovian response: the way that you can get someone to salivate, merely by showing them a picture of a raspberry-covered meringue.

This is of course a conditioned response. A similar trick is used to get a rat to press a button in order to receive a reward or to get a pigeon to peck at an image of the Tirpitz and thus guide a avian-directed torpedo.

This brings me to the SPANKRDs, a new social sub-class that I believe I have identified. Those of you who have read my recently published paper will be familiar with the term but for the rest of you it stands for Socially-inept, Pushbutton, Anaemic, No-mates, Reclusive, Dullards.
These etiolated individuals, festering like toadstools in the sickly blue light of the CRT, have become addicted to being cerebrally rewarded at the push of a button: a TV turns on; a microwave speedily prepares your minced jessop; a camera provides an instant image of your unfortunately unattractive child; a mobile 'phone connects your bus to another vacuous skull almost 100yards away; and another animated sprite lose its innards in a hail of sanguine pixels.

All hail the button, which really is more powerful than a sword.

Of course, progress has left the the SPANKRDs unable to leave any button unpressed in the vague hope of some form of reward. Truly a modern conditioned response that has been bred into the latest scions.
A few days ago, I was waiting with some colleagues in the basement of our building, having called the lift. Just then a slack-jawed SPANKRD loped up and repeatedly jabbed the lift call button. I saw fit to open a dialogue:

LT: "Excuse me, what does that button do ?"
SPANKRD (removing earphones and hefting gum wad to rear of maw): "Uh ?"
LT: "Well we've all been standing here wondering what that button did and we saw you press it - what is it for ?"
SPANKRD: "Makes lift come"
LT: "Really? Well aren't we lucky that you happened along when you did, otherwise we would all have been standing here until next Tuesday !"
SPANKRD: "When ?"

Another thing that I've noticed about SPANKRDs is that they've had the last vestiges of humour bred out of them. Genetic muddification at work.

LargetrouserS: Smell the quality, eat the width