Zoinks almighty, I’ve been visited by celebrity! You may all stand in line for sprinklings of secondhand radio pixie dust.
Two: A Borrowed Rantlet
Jebus H Christ! Is there no relief from phones? Is there nowhere we can be free of the eternal everpresence of the goddamn fucking telephone?
I hate telephones. Hate them all.
It doesn’t matter how cool your phone is, or how many things it can do. Doesn’t matter if your phone lets you play Tetris and text message your Aunt Trixie at the same time that you’re bluetoothing for anonymous sex with strangers and photographing your friends undressing in the locker room at the gym and then emailing the pictures to the FBI while you download ringtones of Dark Side of the Moon that come complete with a laser show.
It just doesn’t matter. Phones are evil. Destroy them. Destroy them, I say! Let us return to the happier, saner days of the pithy ten-word telegram.
Damn straight. I was talking to I. last night about this:
I: But you’ll get a cell phone when you’re living in Berkeley, right?
Me: No, no, no, a thousand times no!
I.: Your graduate advisor will probably shove one down your throat you know.
Me: If my graduate advisor wishes to instantaneously contact me outside of the 50-60 hours per week that I’ll be spending in the lab, he can use the special phone embedded in his advisorly ass. I will keep part of my life outside the shadow of work, even if it is only five minutes per day spent hiding under a bridge, curled up in a little ball, crying.
Many: At the Grocery Store
I notice that my value-pack instant oatmeal contains two ostensibly different flavors, “cinnamon and spice” and “cinnamon roll”. Surely the space of possible delicious oatmeal flavors is vast, if not infinite, and in no way induces the evolution of such absurd synonymy? Also, an excuse to buy Oreos (via Tild).
Also also, a green gabbro mashup. Whoa.