Excuse me while I answer my leg

February 2019

Wendy Parker


It’s widely rumored that cellphones will soon lose the capability for making actual voice calls, because no one ever answers them. They just lay the dang thing in their lap and stare at their crotch while passing you on the right in rush-hour traffic.

Phantom vibration syndrome is real. It’s self-inflicted and completely strange but definitely real. Sometimes referred to as “fauxcellarm,” PVS is described as, “the perception that one’s mobile phone is vibrating or ringing when it’s not vibrating or ringing.”

So next time you assume ol’ Twitchy at the West Memphis truck stop is full of high-speed chicken feed, take a Christian minute to consider he may just be afflicted. Bless his heart. His leg is ringing, and he can’t answer it.

According to internet sources that expound on

the subject, human beings have incorporated hand-held computers so intrinsically into every-day life that the devices have become a part of our physical response system.

According to my imagination, that’s why the eye-glasses with integrated cell phone capability never took off. Those poor folks got the PVS so bad, they can’t even write an Amazon review because their eyes won’t stop vibrating.

It also appears we’ve begun to genetically evolve to compensate for these devices. There are scientists who predict future humans will likely have larger eyes to adapt for smaller screens. Longer, more dexterous thumbs and slender, nailless forefingers will benefit touchpad use.

Y’all, we’re about to be wandering around out here, vibrating and levitating with eyes the size of Hubble telescopes. Couple that with index fingers like Uncle Stubby and sugar glider thumbs and ol’ Twitchy from West Memphis will look like a supermodel comparatively.

Put them doggone phones down and read a magazine once in a while.

(In an effort to avoid litigious feelings, we vehemently discourage doing so while driving. Which brings us to the filthy lie about highway safety.)

Your bonus filthy lie

A large portion of the general driving public believe driving is secondary to whatever else they need to do while sitting in the car, traveling at high rates of speed. They’ve been lulled into a false sense of security with adaptive cruise control and self-braking SUVs that do everything but require them to pay attention and drive.

Mind you, this is the same driving public that thinks big trucks are the problem. As a matter of fact, Barbara from Birmingham even Googled it while she was “stuck” behind a tanker full of hazardous nuclear waste on the loop this morning.

Of course, being “stuck” to Barbara means only being able to travel 3 miles over in a posted double nickel. And her Chrysler Momzilla 500 has every safety feature known to mankind, so Barbara thinks she should clearly have ingress and egress as she chooses.

Meanwhile, Barbara’s kids are sitting behind her in their 12-point restraints licking the windows, or, even worse, digging in their noses for buried treasure. That’s right, Babs. We see your little germ donkeys doing vile things while you judge us. But you don’t see us, because you’re Googling, “What manager do I complain to about commercial vehicles clogging up the highway?”

Give us a shout when you find out, how ’bout it, Barb? And you might want to have that boy checked out. He pulled a toaster strudel out of his left nostril about 4 miles back.

Which brings us to the adults who apparently believe being inside a moving vehicle makes them invisible. Either that, or they just don’t care who sees them shaving their legs while driving across the Cincinnati-Covington Bridge.

I find it difficult to believe any human being can be focused on 85 mile-an-hour traffic while using a wooden coffee stirrer as a nasal excavation device. I find it even more difficult to believe the same person can safely get a wooden coffee stirrer into their nostril while staring at their crotch without some type of Egyptian mummification training, much less careen through Friday afternoon rush hour in the process.


Speaking of mummies, let’s just be clear here. Being swaddled in a crocheted banket doesn’t really constitute an article of “clothing.” Unless your house is on fire and you somehow have to hop on I-285 with nothing but web of yarn knots covering your no-no squares, please wear pants and a shirt while traveling. There are kids out here, licking the windows and pulling toaster strudels out of their nose, for heaven’s sake. We don’t need your mess, too.

One more thing, Francis, you’ve got issues you shouldn’t be addressing in traffic if you have to travel with a nekkid life-sized blow-up doll as your therapy companion. Quit telling people they’re “federally approved airbags” because we all know it’s a filthy lie. Put some clothes on that thing, and keep your hands on the wheel, son. LL