Texting is about the goofiest crap ever invented, don’t you think? It’s something that everyone looks stupid doing. I feel safe in saying this because I look stupidest of everyone. This isn’t limited to the fact that I have an older-style flip phone, and in order to text my neighbor, “Does your son want to play with my daughter?”, it’s D, m-n-o, d-e, p-q-r-s, and so forth. I could run back and forth 6 or 8 times between my trailer and theirs in the time it takes me to punch all that in. I won’t get a smart-phone with a keyboard, physical, virtual, holographic or otherwise, though, because I spend too much of my meager income on silliness already and the idea of spending more than the 10-20 bucks a month I spend on a prepaid phone seems as pointless as a Tea Partier and a diehard Obama supporter trying to agree on anything, up to and including which side of the sky the sun rises in.
Some folks, ones who are as crusty as I am, scoff at the idea of texting: “Why wouldn’t you just call them?” Ah, but there’s where that scoffer is not thinking straight. When I want to know if my neighbor will be available that evening to give me a ride back from the car repair shop after I drop my car off to be fixed the next morning, I don’t need to know that information right that second. So, rather than call and interrupt said neighbor in his workday for my all-important needs, instead I text him: “Will you be sober long enough after work tonight to give me a ride back from the car repair shop?”, and after a while, I get a “LOL, no problem, I get off at such and such a time.” It’s sort of like a faster email, that people actually read on a timely basis, and actually respond to. Or you can text “OMG, you won’t believe who I just saw kissing who” back and forth 80 times a day. Who am I kidding? 80 times an hour is more like it. And that’s just my adult co-workers, at work. Lord knows what the teenagers text about, 500 times an hour, falling asleep with their smart phones falling onto their noses instead of “Great Expectations” falling out of their hands as they nod off. Or “Fifty Shades of Crap” for that matter.
Oh, by the way, would I ever engage in sexting? No, nope, not even if I was younger and fitter and had a girlfriend, would I ever send pictures of my body parts to anyone through the airwaves. There’s a reason they invented clothes.