I must be getting old. :???:

Lately, I seem to keep catching myself saying little phrases that betray that fact. Sentences like, “Boy, I remember when…”, or “Back in the day…”, or “There was a time when…” :neutral:

One thing I definitely remember for sure. I remember when you could tell who some of the crazy people were.

They were the ones who walked around talking to themselves.

It’s impossible to use this as a yardstick anymore. And I still sometimes forget, catch myself staring at people doing this. It always takes me a moment to remember…

‘Tis the age of the cell phone.

This person’s got an ear plug. That one’s got a complete headphone assembly. And hey, there’s one with a Bluetooth. And they’re all talking.

They’re talking at work, on the bus, in the stores, movies, cars. They’ll stop in the middle of the sidewalk and double over in laughter. They huddle in corners and whisper seductive words. They’ll plant themselves in public toilets, not caring whether others might need to use them for more practical purposes.
And they’re often completely oblivious to everything else or anyone around them.
I barely managed to avoid the business end of a shopping cart in the store this morning by plastering myself against the rows of canned goods. The lady behind the handle was—you guessed it. Talking, seemingly to herself. She not only barely missed me, but failed to even notice and kept right on steppin’. (Nor did she hear the torrent of colorful words that followed her, but that might’ve been just as well).
I imagine there was some guy in a security peephole above us, waiting for the roadkill to happen so he could call for a clean-up in aisle nine—on his cell equipment, of course.

It has, of course, occurred to me that, barring necessary or emergency calls, people with such an ‘addiction’ may be very insecure, very uncomfortable being alone with themselves.

However—people are being killed by careless drivers who are too busy talking on phones. Teenagers are being shot for them. Folks will claim they have no money to feed their children as their ringtones go off in their designer jean pockets. I have a friend who left home for work, drove 25 miles, discovered she’d left her cell phone—and turned around to go get it. Couldn’t face the day without it, even though there are telephones on each desk at her job.

So maybe I’m right after all.
Maybe the people walking around talking to themselves ARE the crazy ones. :poof: