Green Teeth

Why is it that the smallest things can cause the biggest reactions? Typically, I am not an angry person or live on the brink of having the biggest meltdown this side of 3 Mile Island. But, sometimes, there are things people do or say that make me want to hand out business sized cards that simply read “Just Don't”.

The latest in the long line of annoyances are the people that wear the blue tooth ear pieces. It is not that I am secretly jealous of these people and that I can only hope to be able to afford such an extravagant piece of modern technology. Nor is it that I am envious that this person has a better job or better friends than I so as to necessitate the use of one of these plastic chunks of pseudo futuristic communication devices. I think that I do, have friends, that is, small as the collection may be.

I am no history buff, nor do I claim to know anything about the complete break down of technological advances in the ways that we humans communicate with one another. I am sure that I would be cranky as Oog, my fellow Cro-Magnon, first started to attach words to our surroundings and had them trip clumsily off his hairy chapped lips. Grunting and pointing seemed to be working just fine, what's wrong with that? God forbid the one responsible for laying pen to paper, so to speak. Smoke signals, carrier pigeon, pony express, telegraph, telephone, Internet, cell phone – each new way to tell someone what they were up to, I would have been there absolutely disgusted by the entire notion. But, as time would go on, I would have (I'm pretty sure about this, but not absolutely sure) embraced the, by this time “old”, advancements and begun to use them frequently.

The ear piece contraption? I am still not sold on it. I frequently compare these abominations to the stylistically appealing fanny pack. Fad? Maybe? I have seen more and more of them stuck in peoples' ears (not exactly the opening I would like to forcibly cram them). But that was the same way with the fanny pack. Before you know it, your grandmother is going to be hitting the BINGO hall with a blue tooth dangling from her ear, constantly fumbling with it trying to get it to stick in her ear just as she was constantly messing with the adjustable strap on her bingo dauber carrying pouch. Useful? Oh, I am sure it is to some. I could think of a bizillion ways that the fanny pack was more useful to those that wore them than the hordes of cyborg-wannabe's that sport them. For those who do not like to walk around with a veritable junk drawer in their pants pockets, me included, the fanny pack eliminated the stress of where to put your wallet, checkbook, loose change, pocket knife, pen, car keys, house keys, Snicker bar, Roladex, spatula, a book, guitar picks, nude photo of neighbor's wife, hammer and Banaca when rolling up to the local Wal-Mart. The ear piece? 99.9% of the time they are never used. Never do I see or hear these people talking to anyone. Could they be looking around for someone to impress? I doubt it. I am overly paranoid that these never blinking holier than all get out robuts (thank you grandma) are scanning the landscape and all of its inhabitants awaiting for the command to start the elimination process. Time for me to start applying healthy coats of lemon juice to my face and wrapping my body in tin foil as to avoid detection.

Much like the first donners of the fanny pack, the first people I noticed wearing the blue tooth were professionals and upper crusters. People in the know, cutting edge fashion mongers are always the first ones sporting the items that us salt of the earth people are supposed to yearn for. It is when these things become more readily available that the novelty wears thin for me. Snobby, yes, but if I see one more sweat pant clad blue toother buying her/his Doritos and Mountain Dew with their EBT card (food stamps) I am going to void all of my precious bodily fluids right on to their flip-flopped feet as a sign of disgust, since they have no regard for simple hints. I can understand a doctor walking the person on the other end of the communication line through the first steps of a kidney replacement. Or an investment banker advising a client that he must sell his stock in Enron (not very timely, but, it works for me). To hear that Bambi needs to dump that two-timing, no good, unemployed, pot smoking loser that she shares just two of her six kids with, is just not helping me side with the use of this technology. Sure, each of the preceding instances warrant the same merits in some cosmic, global humanistic sense where all things are weighted the same. And, trying to be a better person, I shouldn't judge people. Shit, I just have to.

There needs to be a clear division between the have's and have not's. When there is, it gives those in the have not cubicle an incentive (one of many) to strive to do better, work harder and do the things necessary to move up to the next group (oh the elation I felt when I had my taxes done to have the preparer tell me that I had moved from upper lower class to lower middle class – I openly wept). To take a prize from the top shelf without spending the $45 to win a fuzzy topped pen on my way to winning my way up to the giant overstuffed (smelling a lot like stale Swisher Sweet Cigarellos) unlicensed Simba for a six month kid who is just going to puke on it anyways, is to short change yourself and society. All things are earned, good and bad. I am alright with the fact that I do not have certain status symbol defining toys and gadgets. Not having these things is the dangling carrot for me.

I stopped writing with the last sentence. I was not sure where this was going and, to be quite honest, what I actually was saying. I started this because I was annoyed and once the fury fire burned out, I was left with having to think and do it logically (think and logic – I know). This usually gets me into trouble. Don't ask why, just trust me on this. So, I have decided to use the last very last sentence to sum everything up. Here it goes...

They look stupid!