My Bucket of Parts: Wireless phones form foundation of new religion

There's been an introduction of a new religious trinity that has brainwashed most students walking around campus.

Meet your new local gods: Cingular, Sprint PCS and Verizon Wireless.

Wireless technology has taken Western culture by digital storm. These phones, more complex than any JavaScript or HTML program I've ever seen, can do numerous things that make our lives "so simple." For one, they help us communicate better, right?

"Mom, you're breaking up again," I yell into the phone. Free long distance after 9 p.m. is somewhat handy, but what's the point when I've repeated, "Classes are going fine right now," until I'm flushed and all my mom could make out was, "You're drunk on wine? Why are you drinking on a Tuesday night?"

I guess this is where the demi-god Sprint PCS comes in and takes our scrambled signal woes and allows us to teleport with all this new technology.

The phone rings, I pick it up and my mom fizzes out of thin air and is standing in my room ready for a hug and a long Tuesday night conversation without all that hectic static.

"Can you hear me now?"

After a discussion in my religious studies class one afternoon about attachments and cell phones, it occurred to me - people don't just use cell phones, they worship them: Verizon, Cingular and Sprint, we loveth thee. Keepeth us in touch with, anon, people.

Statues have already been erected all over Midwest in honor of Cellularism. Tall metal sentinels stand tall with wires and thingamabobs that transmit signals so we can keep the phone flapping against the side of our jaws.

These gods have started taking control of our lives. While I worked at Blimpie as a slave to sandwiches and cheese, customers would walk in worshipping their god and they would give me rotten looks because I was the one interrupting them from their inclusive conversation.

"Would you like white bread, wheat bread or that phone shoved where the sun don't shine?" I would ask.

"Wheat bread please."

And these gods are around us during movies, inside nice restaurants, and worst of all, in the middle of class. The phone goes off (an annoying little song and dance tune, mind you) while the professor pours out his soul about literature. Five people nervously bend over to check their phones, and out of the five, one looks up and leaves the room with her tail between her legs. Shameless.

Even Barbie has a cell phone - what's next? Will Mr. Potatohead's backside open to reveal yellow glasses, a pair of eyes, a cheesy grin and a cell phone?

Cellularism: the new religious fad that's even more popular than Hatha yoga and Tai chi.

It's hip, we stay connected, we interrupt class and we can't forget the rise in car accidents and deaths due to this plastic little god. It's one of the few sacrifices we offer up to Cingular, Sprint and Verizon.

What's another sacrifice? How about the use of good old-fashioned communication that involves two people face to face? Although it hasn't hindered communication, Cellularism has become quite the attachment - one that doesn't seem to be adding positive qualities to the human race.

On top of all that, Cellularism will bring the onslaught of - wait, do you hear that ring? Is that my phone or yours? Oh, it's mine, could you hold on for a few minutes? Thanks.

Write to Evan at e-mann@mr-potatohead.com


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