The War On Texting

I can hold in my objections no longer. I am officially declaring war on text-messaging as the new American pastime.

Have we really become so obsessed with "instant communication" that we must resort to this inane, distracting exercise? I try my best not to do it, and even when I must resort to it, I feel dirty such that I am compelled to take a shower immediately afterwards. Whenever I see the cell phone company (Verizon?) commercial whose main subject is the girl who sends "a record 43 text messages in three minutes," I must work hard to suppress my own vomit.

Why does text messaging irk me so? Well, dear readers, its principal function seems to be an expansion on the gross misuse of iPods--the continued individual self-isolation in society and the death of tavern culture. Put simply, people now much prefer to lock themselves up in their own little bubbles, rather than interacting with others. The contribution to this unsettling phenomenon by text-messaging (I refuse to use "text" as a verb, because that's just preposterous) is that people walk around with their noses buried in their RAZRs, SLVRs, and iPhones (that the Internet has been brought into the palms of our hands is a rant for another evening, and probably would go much like this one anyway), lifting nary an eyelash to acknowledge their fellow Man.

Maybe I'm asking too much, but I get anxious when I see people looking down at their phones instead of eating [insert meal name here], watching a movie, pulling out money or University Cards to purchase something, etc. Maybe I wish to wage war against text-messaging because I'm a wannabe attention-hog (which is a problem, knowing full-well that my strangeness repels many people). Maybe I really am a 65 year old at heart (after, some of my college peers have made that observation independent of my high school peers). Maybe I'm bored and have nothing better to write about. Who knows. All I can say is the following:

1. Please join me in the War on Text-Messaging, and
2. A pox on you, Tommy "Two-Thumbs" Thompson. A pox on you and your ilk!

Tonight's lyrical selection: "I'm Looking Through You," by The Beatles

"I'm looking through you,
where did you go?
I thought I knew you,
what did I know?
You don't look different, but you have changed.
I'm looking through you, you're not the same.

Your lips are moving,
I cannot hear.
Your voice is soothing,
but the words aren't clear.
You don't sound differnt,
I've learned the game.
I'm looking through you,
you're not the same.

Why, tell me why, did you not treat me right?
Love has a nasty habit of disappearing overnight.

You're thinking of me,
the same old way.
You were above me,
but not today.
The only difference is you're down there.
I'm looking through you,
any other way.

Why, tell me why did you not treat me right?
Love has a nasty habit of disappearing overnight.

I'm looking through you,
where did you go?
I thought I knew you,
what did I know?
You don't look different,
but you have changed.
I'm looking through you,
you're not the same!"