I'D LIKE MY BRAIN MEDIUM-RARE PLEASE

Today at Red Lobster, I spent an hour listening to a guy who looked like Ted Nugent, moan to someone on the other end of his iPhone that HE really invented the Internet. OK. So maybe he had the idea. I once had an idea for a computer program that would allow me to engage in a virtual love sandwich with Kim Kardashian and the reigning Playmate of the Month -- but I never actually sat down and hashed out the specifics. Point is, my personal space had been invaded. For an entire hour, I was forced to listen to the psychotic ramblings of some dude who looked as if he'd been home schooled in a trailer park by Mike Huckabee. People, it's gotta stop!

Look, I get it. You've got that iPhone and the insuppressible urge to tell EVERYONE that your Uncle Roy, the retired Teamster, is now out of the closet and dating a Republican senator . . . or that gnarly infection you got from having your nipples pierced is finally clearing up . . . but please . . . suppress that urge! I mean it. It's more information than we need. Talking on your cell phone is like most things: just 'cause ya can, don't mean ya should. For the love of God, show some discretion! Think of the captive audience all around. Cast your memory back to a time when technology didn't allow you to instantly communicate every random brain fart that popped into your head.

Why don't we try this . . . why not see if we can all go a week without talking on our cell phones? (No texting either.) Why not? let's see if the Earth spins off its axis and crashes into the Sun; pigs fly; your significant other runs off with that slightly androgynous, vegan pilates instructor; or Glenn Beck shocks the world by announcing he's the illegitimate love child of Angela Davis and a disgraced 1960s game show host? I'll bet everything'll be just fine. Who knows? Maybe we'll learn something about ourselves? Notice the person sitting next to us on the bus -- or that MILF at the gym who does step aerobics without a sports bra. Maybe even realize how good it feels NOT to have a device perpetually pressed to our craniums, that over the course of a year, emits enough microwave radiation to cook a medium-rare hamburger. Whattaya say? Let's give it a shot. Oh, and one more thing . . . you first.