Wait, I know this one. It’s a eighth of a byte. And a two-bit shave and a haircut means it’s all blocky and retro and monochrome, right?
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From what had been the M25 London Orbital Motorway came a low chanting, a noise formed of many strands: car horns, and engines, and sirens, and the bleep of cellular telephones, and the screaming of small children trapped by back-seat seat-belts for ever. “Hail the Great Beast, Devourer of Worlds,” came the chanting, over and over again, in the secret tongue of the Black priesthood of ancient Mu.
-Good Omens, Pratchett & Gaiman
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yep. nailed it.
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Simpler explanation: no, there wasn’t a widespread trend of this, it was just a random local moral panic, like the Seattle windshield pitting “epidemic” of roughly the same time period.
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Years ago, I commented when my friend’s phone rang, “Wait, your phone ring is SOS!” “No, that was SMS because it was a text message,” he replied (off by one dash)
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A nibble is another term for fifty cents.
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