I AM A CELLULAR ORGANISM

Despite not carrying my cell phone around with me everywhere -- or anywhere, really -- I can claim that I am in touch with the cell-phone dynamic, as I often step around cell phone users, tune them out, or just ignore them when they're stoned in the gutter and the pigeons are nesting in their clothing folds. As so often happens.

And I realize that most people who read my blog do so on their cell phone.

While doing a very important job for which they are paid.

Or perhaps when they are eating.

In between bites.

It is for them that this safe for work, social situations, and the dining environment picture was painted. If you are eating alone, as I often am, you can talk to it.
Just imagine that I'm talking back.

I'm just as likely to be planting magic acorns, but whatever.

It's the idea.



Seemingly, the main function of my own cell phone is to allow any number of Indian or Pakistani gentlemen named Samuel Anderson to reach out and talk to me concerning Medicare parts A and B, or recent changes which allow me to arrange for my funeral expenses when the time comes. That is their only concern in life, it's why they exist, they have no friends. They are, conceivably, an alien lifeform. Random soups of DNA floating in the universe of Bombay or Hyderabad. Which, thanks to them, I have no urge to visit.

Indian taxi drivers? Samuel Anderson.

Computer engineers? Samuel Anderson.

Snooty know-it-alls? Samuel Anderson.

Hindu Nationalist neo-Nazis? Samuel Anderson.

Vivek Ramaswamy? Samuel Anderson.

Nikki Haley? Samuel Anderson.

Famous poet Buddhadev Bosu? Samuel Anderson.

This is as good a reason as any to always leave the damned thing at home verdomme. I do not have any patience for Samuel Anderson and his or her curiosity about my health and funeral coverage at any other time than when I'm dawdling over coffee in the morning.

BTW: I've cut ghee out of my diet almost entirely.
Not because of Samuel Anderson.




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