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Musings from Moyieboy ... |
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It's a beeping, bleeping world |
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August 17, 2017 |
By Ken Carpenter
I've had it with dummy alarms. It seems like you
can't go anywhere or do anything without some
infernal contraption beeping at you.
They do it with one goal in mind: to alert you,
the dummy, that something is amiss, or done, or
desiring your instant attention, or just plain
old messed up. Alas, much of the time they beep
just because they can, with that mysterious
machine intelligence that knows exactly how best
to irritate the stupid humans.
I don't know about anybody else, but I'm sick
and tired of playing the stooge for a host of
smart aleck devices that don't seem to know who
is boss. I'll tell you who is boss.
"I AM THE STINKING BOSS, AND IF THEY DON'T QUIT
BEEPING I WILL MASH THEM ALL INTO LITTLE, ITSY,
BITSY BITS!"
Ahhhhh, that felt good. Knowing that with one
ten dollar hammer I could mash the bleep out of
every beep in the whole world is quite a feeling
of empowerment.
Sadly, the world would probably end if all the
beepers were suddenly bleeped out of existence.
And if I was the one responsible, I’m sure mobs
would fight for the chance to snatch away my
ten-dollar hammer and put knots all over my
noggin.
My late wife, Joy, knew how to decipher every
one of the many beeps that dominate our house,
even though they all sound the same to the
average human ear. The washing machine, dryer,
dishwasher, oven, microwave, answering machine,
three cell phones, computer and smoke detectors
(which, by the way, are so sensitive a small
dose of flatulence can set them off) are all
liable to go off at any time of the night or
day.
I'm pretty sure there are other bleeping beepers
in the house besides the standards, but maybe it
just seems that way.
Just because of my wife's beep deciphering
talents, I started to assume it was a gender
thing. Then I was at the counter of a local
quickie mart, only the lady checker and me in
the whole place, and something started beeping.
"Is that your phone?" she asked, hopefully I
thought.
"No, I thought it was yours," I replied, dashing
her hopes.
We both looked around the store in search of a
vertically challenged cellphone wielder. No such
luck, and the beeps continued to sing out every
five seconds or so.
"Bleep!" she muttered, obviously distressed by
the nagging reoccurrence of a beep from beyond.
Despite feeling a sympathetic urge to help her
find her beepish tormentor, I had places to go
and beeps of my own to suffer through. I wished
her luck and beat feet out to my old truck,
which, by the way, was totally and completely
beep free.
I once owned a digital watch that beeped every
day at 9:47 AM. Nothing I did could stop it, but
luckily the watch committed suicide by leaping
off of my wrist into a lake. I guess the beeps
finally got to it.
My present watch has hands, and as far as I can
tell it does not make obscene gestures at me.
I suppose it might be though. I don't know how
to read sign language, but I have a pretty good
idea what the sign would be for "beep."
12 o'clock and all is well, it beeps silently. |
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