A Modern Day Scourge

If I see one more person with a cell phone plastered to their ear, I think I'll implode. If I hear one more squealing tweedle and jingle whilst in a movie or a restaurant, I’ll turn murderous. If I barely avoid yet another car wreck because the driver is oblivious to the world around them, absorbed in gibberish conversation on their cell phone, I’m gonna come unglued. If I see one more person hold their cell phone in the air at a live music concert to let the person on the other end dig what they are undoubtedly missing, I will personally bludgeon them with whatever blunt object I can quickly lay claim to. I fucking hate cell phones, and more to the point, the people that incessantly use them, unable to live or breathe without the damn things or so it would seem.
Why do we feel the need to stay in such sustained contact with the world around us? Wherein lies the need? Do we need to feed these mega-corporations even more money? Are we that ill and deprived? Do we need more hugs from birth?! These devices have turned people into slaves and they’re oblivious. Stop! Look! Listen! There is a world outside of a cell phone conversation! Despite humans procreating like ferrets on speed and the incredible proliferation of these infernal cell phones, the world’s a pretty groovy place if one can ever part with their hand held devices; worth a look see at the least. Besides, I know the conversations taking place are far from engaging. Humans just aren’t that interesting! A few weeks back I watched a young couple seated at a table, on a date, taking conversation to an all new high/low. They sat, cell phones in hand, not saying a word to the other, preferring to text message each other instead. ...I know those two desperately needed more hugs and if they decide to procreate I shudder to think of the offspring. Just another jackleg to add to the already growing number of numskulls that litter our diseased society.
Life just keeps passing humans by while they yack yack yack yack yack. I refuse to join the trendy and cool, the hip and important. I’ll smell the roses instead. I won’t get any outrageous, unexpected bill full or roaming charges. I won’t wreck my vehicle while engrossed in circumspect horseshit, my insurance company in turn raping me for being so “in touch”. I will actually take the time to listen and absorb the music I pay to see. I will also enjoy the movie or the food and the ambiance without jarring interruption. And the phones I do use won’t ever cut me off in mid-conversation. Is this sensible, idyllic picture that difficult to digest?!
Cell phone users? Suck old butt! Fritter your life away. Meanwhile, stop subjecting me to your inane conversations wherever I tread. Despite the importance you place on your unflagging confabulation, I wish not to be forced in sharing in your scattershot, soul sucking verbiage. I could fucking give three shits and care not a damn for what you have to say, Scarlet.
Jabber jabber jabber, blah blah blah blah blah, winge winge winge winge winge, gab gab gab gab gab, wobble wobble wobble wiffle wiffle, ad infinitum, ad nauseum, et al. A wizard on ‘The Rocky and Bullwinkle Show’ always said it best when he uttered some very specific words which all who own and use cell phones should take heed. Right when elements would get too out of control for Mr. Peabody and Sherman, the diminutive, white bearded wizard would intervene, twirling his wand, saving Mr.Peabody and Sherman from imminent ruin by uttering these simple words, “Razzle dazzle, drazzle drone, time for zis von to come home.” and “poof!” Mr. Peabody along with Sherman would reappear from their historical disaster to present day safety, peace and tranquility. A metaphoric, yet direct call to sanity I wish all cell phone owners would take to heart, but doubt seriously they ever will as we are, on the whole, an overtly trendy, knuckleheaded bunch, and intelligentsia just ain’t a major component of our inherent DNA, as evidenced by folks who bitch about gas prices but vote for Bush and buy SUV’s.
Humans? A most curious lot. Furiously masturbating, rainbow assed Mandrill baboons have scads more sense than their bushwhacked and confused brethren. Infinitely better coif on the natch, too. Better bedside manner, as well. They feel the need to communicate? They yawn, they scream, they bark, they chatter, they gesticulate, they swing, they flail, they beat their chest and stomp the ground and fling shit with stunning accuracy if need be. Humans punch some numbers and the meter starts running, thinking, all the while, they’re making life more simple and dynamic when in effect they screweth yon pooch, all before they lose the connection.
Bring back log drums! Never kept the Africans from keeping in touch on any and all manner of subject. Long distance, too! More soothing. Melodious. Cost effective, as well. And a communication device that makes a woman’s ass shimmy and shake in the process gets a huge thumbs up from moi! With those elements working together, jabber as much as you fucking want! Have a tirade. Send sweet sonnets. Unleash a filibuster. Grandstand. Orate Pontificate. Hop on that soapbox and let it fly! Bring on the beats! Shake some rump! Kick out the jams! I play by sense of smell. I can see for miles...