Flashing lights, classical music add to horror of cell phones

I could never articulate how truly irritating cell phones
are until today when my friend unveiled a monstrosity against
nature: a digitized Pachelbel’s “Canon in D” ring
tone.

We were getting ready to engage in a night session of
“Club Powell” (let’s dress up to go to the
library!) when I heard it. At first, I restrained my spite toward
my friend and his audacity for ruining Pachelbel’s
masterpiece. But suddenly a realization, like a religious
conversion, dawned on me: I hate people who abuse their cell
phones.

Why are people so captivated by their phones? What draw do cell
phones have that turns their users into servants instead of their
rightful position as masters?

Cell users who deserve my disdain abound. For instance,
there’s the “import car” cell user. This buffoon
scoffs at the plastic shell that the phone makers supply, and
replaces it immediately with a flashy chrome number. This is
usually accompanied by an antenna that lights up whenever a call
comes in.

Not being content with a single light that indicates
they’re receiving a call, the next logical step is to add a
light show to their phone, replete with ostentatious displays of
phone pyrotechnics.

Variations of this formula exist, but it all comes down to the
same thing. Why not add some rims and drop in an Alpine
system?

I can only surmise that epileptics must be increasingly cautious
in choosing their friends in this electronic age.

There’s another group of cell phone users that bother me
immeasurably: those who talk incessantly on the phone wherever they
go ““ a nuisance to the eyes and ears.

Having nothing but hatred for inconsideration, I rank this breed
of human lowest on the totem pole of society. Whether at the
movies, library or house of worship, these miscreants have no
qualms chatting it up on their phones.

For crying out loud, have they no shame? As self-centered as
they may be, they have absolutely no right to impose their
yammering on the general populace.

As individuals, these abusers are crotch-grabbingly annoying.
But as a combined force, they flood cellular networks with overuse.
It makes the message “system busy” a ubiquitous
occurrence every time I try to use my own phone. Upholding my
steadfast delusion that I have some poetic skill, I crafted a verse
for this situation:

You climbed the highest walls and breached my heart’s
defense.

You overcame all obstacles in divulging inherent sense.

You understood the violence required to enslave.

You showed no mercy in quickly promulgating your enclave.

You banished my once rapid mind into the sands of loss.

You gave instead your vapid hold, imbuing love as dross.

You took my soul and squeezed it whole into a stew of pain.

You cut my will with cunning still repeating spite’s
refrain.

You left me here with nothing yet that is all that is left.

You raped my spirit and gave, in trade, an existence lived
bereft.

You are the seed of evil that has budded in my life.

You demand no less than perfect deeds, no end to sacrifice.

Your motto “system busy’s” like a bullet from
Aaron Burr.

Soon I’ll get another phone, gosh darn you Cingular!

Perhaps I was a bit rash in my tirade against my service
provider, especially since it’s the abusers’ needless
strain on the networks that brings me such grief. In the end,
that’s what it’s all about: actually showing a
little consideration for those around you.

Let me tell you abusers the real deal. Your phone is meant to be
used as a phone. If you’re going to fix it up, please
show a little restraint; if I wanted a light show I’d go to a
rave.

To those incessant chatterers racking up the anytime minutes,
remember that there are real people right in front of
you. I’ve terminated friendships when I realized that my
“friends” were giving phone time precedence over
“John time”, and I urge others to do the same.

Finally, use some common sense: if you get a call in class, a
movie theater or library, don’t talk on the phone as if
you’re the only one there. That junk is unacceptable.

Let’s all go back to the time before didactic,
face-to-face interactions were preempted by the monstrous
technological advance of cellular phones.