Progress is for Shit

It hit me today. I can no longer play phone pranks. Amongst other things...
We now live in a very modern age indeed, where people want to know just who’s calling them before they pick up the phone. Caller I.D., it’s called. Is everyone suddenly paranoid? Or the old better safe than sorry adage? Or worse, evasive, fickle, and snidely?
Either way, my shit has been rendered null and void.
There was a day when calculating my next victim was a merry affair. Figuring out the voice. The scenario. Timing. Being able to think on my feet, gauging their reactions, only to up the ante if I could, gleefully relishing the shock and terror in their voice. Only people I knew, of course, and all meant in the spirit of play, naturally; my gullible mother got the worst of it, good sport that she is.
Just today, in fact, I wanted to wrangle with a friend of mine’s girlfriend.
I’d given a lot of thought to the character, usually an old, very cranky, somewhat liquid brave, cantankerous beyond believability son of a buck. Today wasn’t any different.
I laid out my plan of attack and hit the numbers.
After a series of rings I heard her hello then without prelude I launched into my nasally, whiny spiel, “Hello dearie, my name is Jim Smiley over at Sensible Pawn Shop, and I got an outstanding ticket for some stuff a fellow gave me by the name of Rooster MacLeod” (his real name is Boo).
Well no sooner had I thrown the bait into the water when I heard her chuckle softly, and I knew I was found out before I had a chance to properly sink the hook, execute my dastardly plan.
So, instead, we had a normal conversation.
How droll. No fault of hers, ultimately. It was what it was. Still, how droll.
I miss the days of mystery and wonder. The days where a little was left to chance and imagination and the law of the land was lax. Everyone still retained a reasonable amount of humor, a freewheeling spirit, and we were given chances to exercise it without risk of personal attack, a rude brush with the law, ensuing lawyer’s fees, or public humiliation in the media.
Not anymore. Those days long gone.
Fuck, all we got now is progress.
Elvis has left the building.
And the colored girls sing...