I don’t know why, but I think with all of this wondrous technology that has developed over the years – particularly within the world of cell phones – why is it that people still dial wrong numbers? I know it’s a simple mistake, but I for some reason feel as though dialing the wrong number is a problem associated with technology of yesteryear. You can get an app on an IPhone that allows you to push down on a fake stapler as if it were a real one. It literally does nothing else. It just lets you experience the exhilaration of pushing down on a stapler that’s made not of metals, but of 1s and 0s. We have that, we can create that, yet we cannot create an app, or some machine, contraption, device, thingamajig, or do-dad that completely eliminates the horrid awkwardness you feel when you ask for Mary and get Dillon, the guy you don’t know but already dislike due to his love for breathing in to the phone like he’s watching you through binoculars.
A cell phone is futuristic piece of tech that should — at least in my mind –get rid of all of our old problems with the old phone technology. But really, it can’t. Not all of the old problems, anyway. There are still many problems that will always arise because they are inherent to that technology. Case in point, I don’t care how much you revolutionize hammer and nail technology, there will always be some dipshit that hammers his thumb, screams in pain, then stabs himself in the face with the clawed end. This happens because 1) the guy is inbred, clearly; and 2) sometimes that’s the way shit goes when you f*ck with hammers, son.
So, with that being said, I know why we don’t have anti-wrong-number technology — it’s impossible, I assume. We’re always going to screw up a dialed call, and we’ll do it for a lot of different reasons. Sometimes an asshole “friend” will give you a number of another guy, but will write a 3 instead of a 9, because he’s the friend that sucks at living. Other times, you waited too long to call someone, and that someone has changed numbers without telling you because they saw you dropping a mysterious pill-like object in to peoples’ drinks that one time you went out together. So you end up calling their old number and sounding like an unfortunate dickhead when your dumbass assumes the sassy black lady voice that answers is totally Rebecca, the Irish-Catholic office secretary/non-lover-of-roofies-in-her-drink. So you say, “What up, whore?!” only to receive the verbal equivalent of a thrice-dicked baboon making passionate and poo-flinging sex to your ears with condoms made of acid. See? There are too many variables to account for. You can’t create an iPhone app that simultaneously punches your shitty friend and protects your ears from a verbal baboon dicking, let alone thrice of them. The coding on the app would be a bitch and a half.
My dream is a damn impossibility, I know that. Hoping and wishing for a day where we no longer live under the tyrannical rule of wrongly dialed numbers is pretty much a waste of time. It’s like hoping someone can build a machine that gets rid of hate. You’ll never get rid of hate, just like you’ll never get rid of dialing a wrong number.
And, yes; I just put the philosophical concept of “hate” on par with dialing or receiving a wrong number. But, let’s be honest here, folks. Don’t you hate the wrong number dialing prick that dialed you up? At least a little bit?
Yeah, I thought so…