Saturday, August 27, 2005

the communication age

Once again, I’d just like to reiterate that “Toastios” look a lot like Cheerios, but they sure as hell don’t taste like ‘em. And that’s the truth.

More importantly, I’d like to express a genuine concern. For years, the “drunk dial” to me, was one of life’s great mysteries. Why did alcohol create a motivation for communication of a cellular nature? I never understood it. While under the influence, I certainly never felt any of these dialing urges bubbling up within myself … until recently. I fear I’m becoming the drunk dialer I used to mock.

I’ve started trying to play it off as just a normal phone call, but that just doesn’t work. The reason I tend to regret these drunk dials is because oft times, it feels like the person on the other end is being patronizing, when really, they’re just being sober.

But then I realize that in a state of inebriation, I have the same level of legal contractual capacity as children and the mentally ill, both of which are in the heavily talked-down-to sector of the population. So maybe I have a right to receive that patronizing treatment. But you know what, maybe no one should be talking down to anyone. This is my plea to the sober and the world at large: Put away your condescension trucker hat and slip on the beret of equality and understanding.

I think I’ve made my point.

1 Comments:

Blogger Tim Duffy said...

Agreed. Also, it's time for an intervention.

12:57 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home