Richard Wattenbarger

I hate Ringtones.

That is, I hate the fancy kind.

In my day job, I work in an office full of cubicles.  If I'm not wearing earphones, I can hear most everything that people are saying all over the office.  When I put on my earphones and fire up whatever is on my computer, the music I hear enables me usually to enter my own sort of space where I can at least control aural distractions.

Or so I thought.

The one distraction I cannot control is the loud, obnoxious, musical ringtone.  And while I don't mind the clash of several musics in, say, an Ives orchestral work, I don't particularly like hearing a tinkly version of, say, the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy invading my auditory space.

It's easy to proffer a socio-political analysis of ringtones.  One can bewail the chimerical sense of individualism that the personalized choice of a ringtone seems to offer.  Ringtones seem to be one more malady foisted upon us by our out-of-control consumerist culture.  And so on.

I don't really care about the social analysis, though.  I'm just pissed off.  And I wish this ringing would stop!

About Phil Ford

Chairman of the Committee for the Memorial to the Victims of Modernism
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