No Limit To My Impatience

Posted: October 5, 2010 by S. Trevor Swenson in Me & Mine
Tags: ,

I was just talking with someone whom I wanted to see, but who is too far away to see without a trip to an airport and a visit to “Why aren’t there teleportation devices?” she asked. It dawned on me that if there were teleportation devices it would take me less than a month to start complaining about them. I already rant and rave about cell phones and text messaging and the lack of etiquette and annoyances associated with them to anyone who will listen. Sadly, no one listens really, which is probably for the best as it just encourages me. Why do people have cell phones and not answer them? Doesn’t that kind of defeat the purpose? Then there are the people who can’t bear to be incommunicado for more than 15 seconds, who have to subject everyone within ear shot to every bit of their personal business. Cell phones weren’t enough. There had to be text messaging, so that we could reach the people who weren’t replying to their medium of constant communication. It’s almost a good idea. It would mean that people can get a message immediately when they are in a tunnel or are conversing with someone else. However, texting generally consists of banal messages that don’t need to be delivered while obstructing others in hallways or sidewalks. “Where U At” is not necessary information vital to one’s life. The only time people seem to meet in person these days is to determine why they have been ignoring other people’s cell calls and text messages.

If there were teleportation devices ala Star Trek or The Fly curmudgeons like myself would waste no time at all picking apart peoples appalling lack of teleportation etiquette. I’d piss and moan about little old ladies taking 2 minutes to get into the device making me 120 seconds late for my dinner date in Thailand. I’d rage about having to go through the metal detectors with idiotic and apathetic TSA employees holding me up to see a movie in London, or accidentally dropping me off in Lisbon. I can quite literally hear myself bitching to my friends and family. “What is wrong with these cretins? I know they both start with “L”. . . maybe these pea brains need a picture . . . I had to spend 5 minutes in Portugal behind some dipshit who couldn’t figure out the intricacies of a metal detector!”

That’s another interesting aspect of being curmudgeonly . . . We (curmudgeons) will complain about new solutions to problems. Here’s a quote to remember me by . . .” Necessity is the mother of invention, and invention is the mother of complaint.” The first part isn’t mine of course. I am a bit of a history buff, and can easily picture myself throughout human history kvetching about every new development. I clearly picture myself in Ancient Rome, with a black toga, named Grumpus Maxiumus complaining about how long the damn aqueduct is taking. “Lazy ass slaves . . . just look at them sitting around, why doesn’t that idiot use the whip . . . that’s what it’s for . . . I’m going to write to my senator.” Fast forward to the Old West with me in overalls . . . Farmer McGripe yelling at some poor hapless telegraph office clerk and fuming over sending a telegraph back east to ma and pa. “What do you mean the line is down . . . well send it via Chicago then brainiac . . . I could have ridden my ox team there and back in the time it takes you to dot and dash a simple “Crop failed . . . Send Money” message. What? Who’s your supervisor Rain Man??”

I would have complained about it all, from the invention of the wheel to the telephone. I have bitched about busy signals with the same gusto as I pull my hair out over call waiting and caller ID. It’s all part of the universal (formerly the international) conspiracy to piss me off.

  1. Tallkronan says:



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