PARKED IN A CORN FIELD

Nearly a year ago I switched from an old-fashioned land line to a cell phone. Which periodically makes noises at me. Which are text messages from people I do not know. Ocasionally there are actual phone calls and recorded messages. Also from people whom I do not know.
Various individuals are concerned that my vehicle needs an extended warranty.
As they've kindly tried to tell me several times.
I should call immediately!

Given that I've had the current phone number for less than a year now, and I haven't had a car since before we invaded Iraq, you will no doubt understand that I am in no hurry to call them.

They speak better English than the random subcontinental computer wallahs who used to call me on my land line, or many of the people whose communications I do appreciate.

Somewhere in this vast country, probably the Midwest, is an entire trailer park whose continued survival is dependent on vehicle owners who can be talked into an extended warranty. I am ashamed that I am not contributing to their existence. If it were up to people like me they would starve, without a doubt. Ohio and Nebraska are probably littered with trailer parks filled with dead people whom I did not feed. Such is the fragility of life. Alas.


I grieve for them.



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