Note: This column was written during my senior year of high school, and published in the Spartan Spotlite.
I was thinking– when I grow up I’m going to name all my kids after food products. And they’re all going to be rappers. Not sick-o rappers like King Missle, but cool ones like that guy who always wears the big clock around his neck. I think I’ll name them “Easy-cheese” and “Flav-or-ice.” That would be cool. Then I could have more kids, and name them “Ritz” and “Bomb Pop.”
But I would never let my kids use that star 69 thing from AT&T, because I think it’s bad. It’s too fun. If someone calls me and hangs up, I normally wouldn’t care who it was I’d figure that they’d call back. But now that I have the ability to find out who called, I get curious. All of a sudden I realize that it would be lazy and stupid not to take two seconds of time to find out who it was. If you have the power, it’s dumb not to use it – right? So I press *69. I don’t know why, it never tells me a phone number of someone I know. It always gives me some number I’ve never ever seen in my entire life. Then I get ever more curious. I spend a whole lot of time just sitting and thinking “Who the heck is that?” Then I go back to whatever I was doing before the phone rang, and I look at the clock and say “Where the heck does the time go?!” A couple of times I’ve actually called the number that was given. Every time I do, nobody answers on the other end. I think it’s a big hoax by AT&T. I think they make lists of anyone who’s ever used *69, because they know that if you’ve tried it once, you’ve found it to be a really neat-o feature and you’ll probably be intrigued to try it out again. I think they have people who actually sit there and call everyone on the list and then hang up. Then the people call back the unfamiliar number of the phone that customers would normally call to leave comments to AT&T. But no one is there to answer that phone, because who the heck calls the phone company anyway? Anyone who calls to tell AT&T that the line is very clear and free of static should be given a job or something else to occupy all that free time they have. So why would they hire someone to answer that phone? They wouldn’t. So the phone just rings and rings, and people who are very vain (I said VERY VAIN, not Barry Bain) think that somebody cool must be stalking them, bucause they’re so beautiful. People who watch too many episodes of “The X-Files” get all paranoid and think that it’s some scary supernatural-ghosty thing, when it’s actually just AT&T acting like a bunch of monkeys, trying to fool me with their fool foolin’ fool-a-phone. That’s how AT&T gets you to spend $6 a month on *69 – or at least that’s what I think.
I’ve decided that I’ll never drive a Ford (Chevy loving car buffs will be happy). My parents had a Ford Taurus. Had. The engine blew up because it was crappily made, and then five minutes later it started on fire because of an electrical problem. What a piece. Now we have to buy a new car (Not a Ford). But what kind? What company? Hyundai is a whole new car, or so says their commercials. But I don’t ever remember their commercials saying anything about it being a better car. What about a Geo? It would be nice and roomy if I were 3 feet tall. It would be powerful if I’d been riding on a mule for my entire life. It would look good if I had been poked through the eyes with my own teeth. What about a Saturn? the people working there seem real nice on the commercials, but their cars are made from the same material as the “party time” cups I drink out of at home, and they break when I put ice cubes in them. Honda? No. Subaru? No. Jeep? No. Isuzu? Gesundheit. I’ll go with Chevy or Pontiac. With that I’ll know that it’s made in America, by some grossly overweight putz with the name “Ernie” sewn on to his shirt. Not unlike the twig-stick shaped, dweeby nerds with a four-year degree in “Greek Mythology,” who flip my burgers and deliver my mail.