Dumb Drum Fun

Don’t you miss the good ol’ days, when something didn’t work all you had to do was bang on it or slap it against a hard surface and it was usually good to go. Unreliability was a blood sport where the fights were good for at least few rounds before the Band-Aids ran out or the final knockout came. Now our stuff either works for mere minutes or for years but either way, once it goes - it goes.

I miss the satisfaction of pounding my TV and it’s static-filled signal into submission with my fist. These fancy digital televisions and gadgets just go dark and stare back at you in silence when they don’t work. If I wanted that kind of treatment I could just try to talk to any tattooed dude who works in a gas station or convenience store after midnight.

Since I’m not a fast learner, I still wander around my house at night drumming on inanimate things just to show ‘em who’s boss. The tables seem to get the message because most of them that still have feet  hold up my  magazines and placemats perfectly without complaint. The windows on the other hand don’t appreciate my fingerprints and their disgust is Transparent, especially when I ask them nicely to wash themselves.

Since my car has reached the ripe ol’ age of 13, at least it is understandable when it becomes cranky, ignores my input, and behaves badly like most teens. It is probably no surprise that I like to take the car to the woodshed repeatedly when it doesn’t do as I ask, but that’s ok because I park it there.  Rest assured I never re-BUFF my car’s advances nor do I beat the beast relentlessly – though at times when I get close to car lots, I have been tempted to KICK the tires of OTHER cars!