Monday, October 17, 2011

Somebody's Calling Me

I hate the phone. I mean I really hate the whole technology of telecommunication. I just want to take a bat and smash my phone into little tiny bits and then throw it down the garbage disposal along with a picture of Alexander Graham Bell.

The prefix that I live in must be very susceptible to telemarketers. Actually my neighborhood is quite diverse. I'm only one of three white guys. The rest are (in order of greatest number) Filipino, Chinese, Mexican, Hawaiian and Tongan. Everyone is very friendly and helpful and I can't seem to think of any of them being particularly gullible - unless it has to do with Spam (Hawaiians and Tongans are nuts for the canned meat).

Maybe I'm the target. Probably, it's because I signed up for a free vacation in 1987 and my name and number have been rotating through the infomercial cycle ever since.

I must receive at least fifteen calls a day from telemarketers. Usually, they don't even have the common curtsey to put their name on the caller ID. Most times it just says, "Florida" or "Nebraska". There are some who put their own subliminal message on the ID like, "Pick UP" or "Accept Accept Accept".

Doesn't matter if I put my name on some national do-not-call list or if I scream at the telemarketer person - they just keep on calling.

I beg you Lords of the Wire, please stop the calling .. please go away and leave me to my misery.


  1. You should change your phone number, that's what I did ;3

  2. It's me .. not the number .. something about my aura attracts telemarketers ... I'm like a refinance-your-timeshare-flytrap.


Please keep everything PG or under or else I'll sick Elvis on you.