In this episode, we boldly attempt to shake cell phone zombies out of their electro-slumber.
I’m walking on a busy street downtown and a super trendy zombie nearly smacks into me as she is absorbed by the Skinner-box attached to her hand.
“Watch it, zombie. Did it hurt having that thing surgically attached?”
She manages to unglue her eyes from the screen and says scornfully, “Whatever, jerk.”
I wrap my brain around her drivel and smack back, “You’re the one wandering around aimlessly as you fill your mind with socially-engineered mind-control bunk, and I’m the jerk?”
She twists her face and yacks back, “You see that cop over there? All I have to do is yell rape and you’ll be done. Mind your own business.”
I smile cordially and respond with what I feel is appropriate, “Oh, you mean that unconscious sub-human tool over there? You want to have me beat down and thrown in a cage just because I’m telling you the truth?”
At this point I’m completely shocked that she’s actually managed to look away from her NSA-approved tracking device for this long.
“Ughh,” she grunts with a scowl and goes on her way facebooking her life away.
I walk into a park and figure there might be some families out enjoying the day. I manage to find only one family, but notice something disturbing about the typical foursome. They’re all sitting at a picnic table and not speaking a word to each other. Instead, they’re staring at their electro-hand-apples with their mouths gaping open.
I walk up to the electro-zombie family and ask, “Had any good conversations lately?”
No response, so I try something a little more drastic, “There’s a fire raging just behind us and if we don’t run now we’ll all be cremated prematurely!”
Amazingly, still no acknowledgement. I decide to make one final attempt, “Oh my God, it’s Lady Gaga!”
The teenage girl pops her head up and swivels her propaganda-filled head around and shouts, “Where? Oh my God! Where?”
I laugh and say, “Ooops, false alarm! It’s some other half-naked satanic cult member. My bad!”
The artificial girl doesn’t flinch and her head drops back into it’s comfort zone. A glutton for punishment, I walk off in vain quest for more. I come across a thirty-something Ivy-League-type with his face close enough to his screen to get radiation burn in his eyes.
I smile casually and ask, “So, how does your portfolio look in that global casino known as the stock exchange?”
He glares at me and hisses, “Mind your own business.”
“Catching up on the New World Order agenda? Have you read Between Two Ages by Zbigniew Brzezinski?”
He scoffs, “What, who? Man, I don’t get into that conspiracy crap.”
“Do you know the definition of conspiracy?”
He shoots me a dirty look and blithers, “Leave me alone, freak.”
He walks off and I give him a parting shot, “So I’m a freak if I know the meaning of the words I use?”
“You won’t be happy until you have a chip in your brain, will you?” I yell.
I spot an quasi-child, no more than ten years old, happily training her brain on a fancy slave tracking device. “Hey, you’ve got a small, rectangular thing stuck to your hand.”
No response. This semi-human is completely droned out. Undaunted, I continue, “Hey, mini-cyborg, excuse me, you’ve got a radiation device stuck to your hand. Can I help you remove it? I’ll be gentle.”
Not a flicker of the eyes. I decide to resort to drastic measures. “Wow, free ice cream and duffel bags full of cash! Money everywhere! Wow!”
This doesn’t draw the sort of knee-jerk reaction that I expect, but it gets her head to at least come up to the surface where cognition is possible. I take advantage of the opportunity and suggest, “Hey, it sure is a nice sunny day, and you’re in a park.
How about you run around, climb a tree, or something?”
She does not find this amusing and says with a pouty face, “How about you go take a hike, mister.”
“Hiking, that’s fun. You should try it sometime instead of reprogramming your brain with that data sucking device.”
“MOM!”
I decide this is a good time to scat and call it a day. Hopefully I can find my way home without any GPS.
