Dialed In
Sure, I’m old. But I’m not out to pasture, yet. How do I know? Well, I still get cell phone reception. And according to the Indy article, “City to Review New Rules for Cell Towers,” I’ll still be activated for some time to come. So, call me. We’ll grab a beer.
The City Council asked staffers to look into new regulations on the installation of new small cell phone antennas amid growing fear from a group of vocal parents about the long-term health impacts of radio frequency energy on children. They were supported by a smaller group of parents wearing tin foil hats who never took their phones off of airplane mode.
Federal law preempts the city from banning cell towers outright for health concerns. Federal Communications Commission governs those matters. In a recent FCC conference call, the commission said, “The evidence for the production of harmful biological effects is ambiguous and unproven. Any questions? Hello. Hello. Anybody still out there?” The FCC has chalked up the silent question and answer session to simply a dropped call. Conspiracy theorists believe it was not a dropped call, but a case of dropped listeners. Further proof that something nasty is in the air.
Now, I have to be concerned about that. At my age, I worry about everything. If I get the sniffles, I believe it’s more likely deadly pneumonia. Geez, who can forget when the Muppet’s Jim Henson died of pneumonia at the tender age of 53? I don’t. And I’ve heard the Muppets don’t, either. “Hey Bert. I sure don’t miss having that guy’s hand up my…” “Shut up, Ernie. Go back to sleep.”
I’m going to stay positive on this radio frequency matter. I’ve convinced myself that it’s like the upcoming merger of T-Mobile and Sprint. You see these increased download speeds cranking up to 10,000 megabits per second will likely merge with my own cellular structure. I will be merged with my phone. I’ll be my phone. I’ll be hands-free. I’ll be able to make millions of robocalls while driving to support my GoFundMe campaign. There will be no need to recharge, because I’ll supply my own juice just from drinking at the Saloon. “So, everybody call me. We’ll grab a beer.”
Of course, I couldn’t possibly buy a round for everybody out there. “Please connect me to Jeff Bezos. Jeff, let’s grab a beer. Round’s on you.”
Crantz tells the Indy that he will always be connected. He plans to keep his phone on while wearing TV rabbit ears with tin foil tips for better reception.
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