My Hell is a stadium of 20,000+ people in which everyone has a cell phone...
Here's why. Say I'm walking down the street. Someone's cell phone happens to go off
and thirty-five people all pat themselves down like they are on fire. To boot, the ring tone
is nothing but an eardrum-shattering sonic boom of a cute, yet inaccurate version, of the
latest pop molasses released for the mindless sheep we call mainstream radio listeners,
It seems that the world renowned pocket communicator has swept the world is
such a way that even children not a day over twelve feel the need to call their friends on a
cell phone that has been so lovingly bestowed upon them by their materialistic and quite
egotistical parents with morals that need to have a serious reality check. Who has the
money for 600,000 anytime, anywhere, free-night-and-weekend minutes to shell out on a
sixteen year old? Not I, yet there are some out there that suffer from
gotta-buy-a-cell-phone-cause-my-son/daughter-might-not-look-cool-enough syndrome.
Why do we succumb the beckoning to annoy the not-so-innocent public with the
insatiable urge to raise our voices to that high level reserved for Jerry Springer guests and
Televangelists into the receiver your receptionless handset just so that the probably
nonlistening party on the other end can hear all about the size, color, and frequency of the
contagious blue fungus on your teeth, or some other too-hot-for-TV topic.
Do me a favor and use the cell phone for what it was meant to be, an emergency
device. Not a release for an impulse to ask your buddies what's going on during second
period when you know they are either sitting in class or they're ditching to go mud-riding
with all their redneck compadres in one's dad's military-class war machine with a
four-foot lift kit and pipes that sound like gun-shots that you wouldn't be able hear over
...