I'm not one of those guys who reeks of nostalgia, but sometimes I wish I lived in the past, because there are cases in history that the human race hasn't handled well without me. Take, for example, Alexander Graham Bell.
The guy invented the telephone, or Elisha Gray did and Alexander Graham Bell was stealing it from him, but from my vantage point, both are the same. And as if he did any good for his successors, he probably is in a fancy grave funded by Vodafone and is resting in all the peace a dead man can't normally acquire. But that's not my point. My point is: I hate telephones.
I hate them from the core of my very being. There are several reasons for that. First, I suddenly become this gullible person on the telephone. Seriously, tell me anything on telephone and I will say yes. On the other hand, I can't keep up a conversation on the telephone, which also explains why I just say yes and hang up. When it comes to a phone call, I am not articulate; I can't explain the littlest things; I get nervous and hate the person I am talking to. I have reasons to hate telephones.
I know that what I was actually planning to write will be talking behind a dead guy's back, and that you and your society do bad things to backstabbers, so here is what I'm going to do instead: I'll go back to the February 26, 1876, call Alexander Graham Bell, and teach him a lesson.
Me: Hi, Alexander. Alexander: Hi… Stranger!?! Me: It's me, Cüneyt. Alexander: Hmm… I don't really remember, but let's say you are. How did you get my number? Me: Well, there aren't many phone numbers around these days, are there? I have a question for you, other than the one I've just asked, which was a rhetorical question by the way. Alexander: Okay, I'm listening… Me: Why did you do it? Alexander: Do what? Me: Pick your nose at Mabel's birthday party? Alexander: Oh my God! How did you see that? I though no one was around. Me: BAZINGA! I was joking. I haven't seen you, although you may want to be careful next time you do that, because not everyone in 19th century is myopic like me. Alexander: Oh, thank God. Could you please not tell anyone I did that at Mabel's birthday party? I don't want her to hear that, because I kind of have feelings for her. So, anyways, what were you going to ask me then? Me: Why did you invent telephone? Or whatever it is you call it. Alexander: Well, I told you, I have got feelings for Mabel and seems like I can't talk to her in person, so I thought this thing you call "telephone" might help. Me: Who are you? Raj Koothrappali? Alexander: What? Who is Raj? Me: Oh, never mind. So you are into that Mabel girl? Really? Mabel? Alexander: The heart wants what the heart wants, Cüneyt. Me: I see. Well, did you try sending her a letter? I mean that's a good way of communication too. You didn't have to invent telephone for that. Alexander: Nah, I can't send her a letter, her father would find it. The guy is a stalker. Or a lawyer. They are the same to me. Me: I see. Well that sounds like a pretty acceptable reason. Alexander: Yeah, it is. But hey, look, I have to run now. I have to go to Boston as soon as possible, apparently some guy called Elisha Gray has also invented the telephone too. I have to do something about it. But I will give you a call later, okay? Me: Alright then. Good luck. See, I told you. When it comes to talking on the phone, I'm ready to accept anything, no matter how differently I actually think.
Moral of the story: You have got something to say to me? Don't call me. Ever. Oh, wait, my phone is ringing. It's Alexander.
Alexander: Hey, before I leave, how did you get a phone? I mean I've just invented it and Mabel is the only one who has one. Me: Haha! Well, obviously, she has feelings for me.