Bells N’ Whistles

For an old guy I still try to embrace new technology. In fact as often as I can I hug the new dishwasher and tell it how much I love it while stuffing its craw with greasy fowl leftovers and bowls of dried-on Midwest grits n' bits. I don’t particularly care how clean the dishes get as long as it steams my corn and is silent but NOT deadly to my inbred clan. Yes, other than a few muted arcade beeps, every time I open the thing, the dishwasher returns its gratitude for being a member of the family by simply existing in silent bliss.

Unfortunately most technology in our noisy lives often plots to bite us on the otitis. How can Monks and other old world primates like myself ever hope to achieve inner peace when everything now ‘burps’ ‘slurps’ and keeps ‘waxing on’ UN-poetically in my ‘Eire’ canal? Today it is clear that my gizmo and gadget habit works overtime to hammer my anvils and hum on my drums even without a formal proposal of marriage.

For example, by now Juan Valdez must be deaf since whenever I add water to the coffee machine it tweets like a fruit-loopy wet toucan. The water pot pumps, pops, and creaks with groans of protest. When the brew cycle is complete it peeps incessantly like a hungry hen and screams even louder when it shuts itself off. Who designs this ear muff stuff - horrible aural sadists? If I’m allowed to ignore my kid whenever I want then why can’t I motor my ‘Hoveround’ to end of the driveway in peace and ignore my seatbelt’s chirpy chimes too?

I’m not against new fangled progress but I can’t be the only Amish sympathizer to want technology’s bells without a clapper or its whistles without fipples. I accept that the world needs to slobber over clobber but I’m just not sure if in my own home sanctuary all that stuff needs to beep, bleat & peep MORE than I do. Don’t worry I’m not a crazy shut-in yet and can take the strain. But I am a little worried about those steamed cobs though . . . the corn have started shoving sticks in their ears.