The Corona Chronology: Day 31

Looking back, I suppose I should have known that this would happen. After all, folks are huddled in their habitations, discombobulated by having their daily routines routed. They are desperate for diversion, and since many of them have forgotten (or never knew, for the younger crowds) how to calmly entertain themselves, they have turned to modern technology as a source of life sustenance. Which means, ladies and gentlemen, that we have seen an alarming rise in sightings of the dreaded and multi-headed beast: The Group Text That Would Not Die.

I was never a fan group texts in the first place, long before the pandemic stoked the fires of outrage. Despite working for decades in the telecom industry, this is one technological development that should never have made it out of the planning committee. Because people in large numbers simply cannot behave. Especially people who are bored and have not figured out something more interesting to do with their lives. As George Michael famously warbled in his 1987 hit, “text is best when it’s one on one”.

Sure, a group text can be mildly useful in certain limited situations, such as inviting all your friends to an impromptu drinking binge in the Arts District. Or announcing that you have given birth to George Clooney’s baby. Or making sure that all of your relatives are in agreement with the fake cover story about where you weren’t on that night you did the thing you shouldn’t have. Folks need to be on the same page in these cases. But that’s about it.

Under no circumstances should people be allowed to abuse the time-space continuum by creating a superfluous text and then tagging everyone they have ever known or boinked. Yet they still do. And we must stop the madness, for the soul of civilization is at stake. #JustSayNoMo #StopIt #GloomDespairAndAgonyOnMe

What’s that you’re asking? You don’t think group texting is all that bad? Well, perhaps you’ve never experienced the extreme annoyance of the following example:

I’m innocently sitting at my desk, composing Past Imperfect – #7236, wherein Rudolph Valentino and a platypus have an absurd conversation about pasta, when my phone pings. Wait, that’s not empathic enough. It doesn’t just ping, it goes into convulsions beyond all seismographic measure, to the point that it hurls itself off my desk in a desperate to escape the trauma, hoping the afterlife holds more promise of peace and stability.

Sighing, I snatch said phone from the floor, noting that the designer metal of such is startlingly hot, because the tiny operating system is working overtime to process all the incoming notifications. I unlock the screen, and I note that I have received 47 new messages in the space of two minutes. This can’t be good. Either someone has passed away or someone else has passed on their responsibilities as a responsible texter.

I click on my text inbox (burning my fingertip in the process, which should help obscure my culpability in that upcoming trial where all my relatives are perjuring themselves, thanks for that) and I learn that all of the messages are concerning one text. A text wherein 34 people have been copied, and all of them apparently have something to say about it. Oh boy, here we go…


Official Transcript:

Sally Sue: “I just bought a bunch of corncobs at the Piggly Wiggly!”

Billy Bob: “OMG! I love corncobs! Wait, I might be confused.”

Ernie Joe: “Why would you buy just the cob?”

Sally Sue: “Are you judging me?”

Ernie Joe: “Probably. Explain the corncob and we’ll see.”

Sally Sue: “A corncob! You boil it or roast it and then butter it and salt it. Don’t act like you don’t know.”

Ernie Joe: “I know I wouldn’t do that with a cob. Because that’s not the part you eat.”

Billy Bob: “Oh, I DO love corncobs. I just remembered when you talked about the butter. Best date I ever had on a Saturday night.”

Pentecostal Prudence: “William Robert, don’t be bringin up your sinful acts in this here family conversation.”

Billy Bob: “Oh, hey Mama. I didn’t see you on the list. My bad.”

Pentecostal Prudence: “You need to get down on your knees and pray.”

Ernie Joe: “Oh, he’s been down on his knees.”

Billy Bob: “LOL!!”

Pentecostal Prudence: “William Robert!!!!”

Billy Bob: “Mama, we’re just having fun.”

Pentecostal Prudence: “The Lord will smite you for mocking his will!!!”

Ernie Joe: “Sounds like the Lord might need some mood stabilizers. They have them in bulk at Costco.”

Pentecostal Prudence: “I WILL NOT STAND FOR THIS!!! I’M LEAVING!!!”

Ernie Joe: “Bye, Fellatio.”

Billy Bob: “She doesn’t understand that she can’t actually leave the group text. She doesn’t have an iPhone so she’s trapped.”

Shady Sadie: “Like me. Why am I getting all these messages?”

Sally Sue: “Oh, sorry Sadie. I clicked on your name by mistake. I don’t have any new Tupperware to sell cuz of the Covid Hoax.”

Ernie Joe: “Covid hoax? So you’re one of those. Now I get why you would buy something when you don’t even understand what you’re buying.”

Sally Sue: “Are you judging me?”

Ernie Joe: “This time? Most definitely. Pull your head out.”

Pentecostal Prudence: “William Robert, don’t you say a blastemous word.”

Billy Bob: “Mama, I thought you left.”

Pentecostal Prudence: “I’m bored. Bowling for Jesus done got cancelled and I gotta kill some time before Clod-Hopping for Jesus.”

Ernie Joe: “Wow, that’s a lot to process. I don’t feel your pain.”

Corpus Christie: “Anybody know how to get car keys out of the toilet without touching the water?”

Ernie Joe: “This is where a corncob might come in handy. Sally Sue?”

Sally Sue: “Christie, why you wanna throw your keys in the toilet?”

Corpus Christie: “I didn’t do it on purpose, Corncob Queen. I sneezed at the wrong time. And now the kids are late for soccer practice.”

Billy Bob: “Soccer practice? How are they having soccer practice right now?”

Corpus Christie: “We live in Texas.”

Sally Sue: “Oh, right.”

Billy Bob: “Got it. That place where the governor is so anal retentive about pleasing Drump that he can’t see straight.”

Ernie Joe: “Sounds like another opportunity to use a corncob. I didn’t realize those things had so many uses.”

Shady Sadie: “Speaking of that, hey Sally, I see in the brochure that Tupperware has a corncob crisper. You got any of those?”

Sally Sue: “Oh, I think I do, in the shed out back. You want the rose or the teal?”

Shady Sadie: “I’m thinking teal. Makes the yellow pop on the corn.”

Ernie Joe: “Corncobs are white. Are we really this far in the conversation and people are still confused about what a corncob is?”

Billy Bob: “I’m not.”

Sally Sue: “Are you judging me?”

Billy Bob: “Girl, why you gotta keep repeating that?”

Ernie Joe: “Because repetition and misdirection are cornerstones of the Republican Party. Repeat the lies enough and the corncobs will buy it.”

Pentecostal Prudence: “BLASTEMOUS!!!”

Corpus Christie: “My keys are still stuck in the toilet.”

Ernie Joe: “And that sums up the Trump Administration’s response to the Corona Virus.”

Official Notice from Your Service Provider: This account has exceeded the limits of your data plan. Until the end of the current billing cycle, you will no longer be able to receive useless texts or download corncob pornography. Thank you for your cooperation during this troubling time when telecom companies are only making millions instead of billions.




19 replies »

    • Fair disclaimer: I set out with the intention of focusing on the inane uselessness of the texts, but the storyteller side of me took over and I gave it more flair than was deserved. Mea culpa…

      Liked by 1 person

  1. I overheard my granddaughter telling her friend,
    “My granny thinks cell phones’ only useful purpose
    is as a stop watch.”

    Here’s hoping your fingertips will heal without permanent
    scarring. I’m enjoying this chronology and hope to see more.

    Liked by 1 person

    • The fingers are healing nicely, although I do have flashbacks every time the phone pings.

      I plan to continue the chronology as long as necessary, but my heart hopes it’s a limited run…


  2. Group texts?? One of the foremost reasons I HATE having an alleged ‘smart’ phone. Although I have so far been spared from such things. Plus that whole ‘block’ or ‘delete’ button is there for a purpose. I use that purpose religiously too.

    Now, I have been caught on that one Faceplace by group texts though, which may explain why Zuckerberg is now making thousands instead of even one million. Who wants their entire ‘friend’ circle to be involved in debates of a maize kind?

    Still. I’m regarded as a dinosaur by my own IRL circle, because I insist on using a real live desktop computer to connect with the world (or ‘reach out and touch something’ ((corncobs? 😆 )) as it used to be known in my own hey day). Corncob is just another substitution for something (or so I suspect, being virginal and chaste and pure of mind 😆 ) that would make Pentacostal Prudence up there have a massive heart attack or stroke and die, thus relieving the group text of one person. A good thing for the tiny processors that are taking over the world. Subliminally.

    Liked by 2 people

    • I have to be wary about using the “delete” and “block” buttons as, every once in a while, something is shared that is important or at least interesting. Sadly, it’s often buried in a slog of meaningless babble…

      Interestingly enough, my Facebook pages are almost thoroughly ignored by the world, with a few exceptions here and there. I guess I’m not triggering the right algorithms, probably because I refuse to go through and click “like” on every single thing in my feed like some folks do…

      Yes, the corncob is most definitely a substitution that is unchaste and unvirgirnal…


  3. One: This is hilarious; Two: Group texts are the worst; Three: You get the best comments on your blog.
    I once got a group text from work that began, “I’m testing this feature and want to make sure I did it right. Please text me if you got this.” And, yeah, my phone pinged so many times I had to sacrifice it to the gods of useless technology and get a new phone.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks, Christi. To me, group texts are just like those wretched work emails I used to get, wherein some fool employee would copy the entire Verizon directory on a topic of no interest or significance to anyone but that one employee and a single recipient. Then 97% of the folks copied would chime in with the same confused response instead of just deleting the damn thing…

      Liked by 1 person

  4. I’m always worried that I’ll be the one in the group text who doesn’t recognize any of the other phone numbers. I want to KNOW who I need to be pissed at.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I agree completely. On the flip side, there have been group madnesses where I am apparently unknown to others and folks in the text ask who it is. I keep my mouth shut, because there are already enough people pissed at me… 😉

      Liked by 1 person

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