I did a blog entry in early August about my thoughts on cell phones (read it here). That was about how I thought of cell phones themselves, and now I think venting about the people who use and abuse them is in order. Since I travel a lot, I have ample opportunity to observe the human animal in its natural habitat. One behavior I can’t seem to come to grips with are people’s intense obsession with their cell phones. Why do people have this need to be connected? Some stuff about them just drives me batshit.
Can You Hear Me Now? Seriously, you retard, everyone within a mile radius can hear you. This is the person who just has to shout, because we all know cell phones are sonically powered, and the louder you talk the better the phone works. No doubt the victim on the other end understands you better, too. Normally this is some arrogant prick who is merely advertising how important they think they are by being toxic leaders over the phone. However, it’s equally awesome to listen to someone go on and on at top volume about their recent rectal exam, their elderly dog’s gas problem, or some other equally delightful facts.
Plugged In. Almost uniformly somewhere between teenage and twenty-something, and cannot stop talking to whoever will pick up when they serial-dial. No answer? No problem, because this jackwagon has thousands of contacts to choose from. I think these types are afraid of being alone with themselves, because it is truly scary inside your own head, especially when there’s nothing in there. These types will skillfully weave two or more conversations together when required, confusing the store clerks, family, muggers, and other folks around them about exactly who gets which words.
Digital Schizophrenia. This is the type who appears crazy because they have a wee little plastic thing jammed into their ear. Neat invention, but do they have any idea that they look like a complete whackjob who is talking to themself? For some reason they seem to believe that the bluetooth also provides a cone of silence. Try talking more quietly, or away from me, please, because you freak me the hell out when you do that. Really. People used to get burned alive for that kind of behavior. Maybe we ought to re-look that practice.
Waking The Dead. This douche doesn’t have enough functional neurons to remember to turn off his cell, or at least put it on mute or vibrate, at appropriate times. Corporate meetings, weddings, funerals, and church services never survive uninterrupted. Either that or, like Mr. Can-You-Hear-Me-Now, they’re an arrogant ass who wants you to know that they’re so very important that they can’t possibly not get a call. The ringtone is set on ‘stun’ to make sure you don’t miss out on that fact. When this f-tard’s phone rings, an entire airport terminal stops and looks, even the dead guys the Mafia left in the tarmac. This dingleberry also keeps vendors of gay ringtones alive, because Mr. Can’t-Miss-A-Call in a three-piece suit loves his rap ringtone that makes him look so phat, yo.
Accident Waiting To Happen. The group of cell addicts I can’t stand the most are the ones who just have to keep yakking away while they drive. Meanwhile, the rest of us are watching you closely, avoiding you as you weave and swerve all over the damn road trying to drive with your knees. Some folks who can’t put the yakkity gadget down at least have a bluetooth or earphones, but personally I’m not convinced that helps one hell of a lot. Distracted idiots are still distracted, and that means dangerous. There are laws against this asshattery now, but true justice for these phonedouches would be causing their own demise through their own obsession with connection. The last thing that goes through these asshat’s mind when they wreck their car should be their cell phone.
That’s all I have to say about that. For now. Can you hear me now?