“That syncing feeling.” “I’m syncing in the rain.” “Everything but the kitchen sync.” “Sync-le white female.” Through the course of writing this book, I have heard almost every single pun on the word “sync” that could be made from people I once considered friends.
But after the ritual punishment that inevitably ensues when I tell someone I’ve been writing about syncing, I’m usually asked, “What is syncing, anyway?”
I have three answers.
The shortest answer is this: syncing is a technological solution to that age-old question, “How can you be in two places at once?” This answer usually evokes a glazed uncomprehending stare—it’s the answer I use to retaliate for the worst puns.
A slightly longer answer goes something like this: ...