F
Field Ethos
Guest
By Will Dabbs, MD
Every word of this story is true.
If you are a human being and own a smart phone, you could be forgiven for believing that the world is fast tracking straight to hell. Seldom does a day go by that the newsfeeds on our phones do not regale us with some fresh new horror. The smart phone, handy and recreational though it might be, is the devil’s box. I’m pretty sure I was way happier before I got one.
That having been said, your cell phone is the one thing you are never truly without. You might misplace your keys, your kids, your spouse, your underpants, or your rescue inhaler, but that smart phone is always close at hand. Wouldn’t it be inspired to incorporate some sort of effective sub-lethal defensive weapon into the ubiquitous cell phone?
Gun writing is a pretty sweet hustle. I had to pay my dues as might be the case with any quasi-artistic pursuit, but nowadays I frequently get access to cool-guy stuff before it reaches the Common Man. Sometimes that’s the latest, greatest high-capacity Glockopatomus. Others that is somebody’s revolutionary new personal defense device. This experimental cell phone case-cum-stun gun was legit inspired.
This thing really was the ultimate defensive tool. The case was not markedly larger than my phone, but it included a built-in zillion-volt stun gun in the housing. A hidden switch deployed electrodes and, ideally, fried the crap out of an assailant. If this rascal worked as advertised, then every father of every daughter on Planet Earth would gift one to his favorite fair-haired college coed when first she trekked off to school. My job was to live with this thing for a while and render a learned and insightful opinion.
And so I did. Whenever things got slow at the medical clinic where I work, I sat around electrocuting stuff. Bugs, fruit, Coke cans, surgical instruments awaiting the autoclave, and my PB&J sandwich all got to meet Old Sparky. I was most thoroughly smitten.
One fateful evening I was heading home after a hard day at the clinic listening to the actor Max McLean read the Bible on a cell phone app. McLean’s dulcet vocalization of the gospels was a soothing balm after a rough day of hemorrhoids, heart disease, emotional instability, and snot. My old derelict Jeep Cherokee rattled like Nancy Pelosi’s skull. As a result, I held my cell phone up against my right ear so I could hear clearly. You can see where this is going.
I legit have no idea what happened. It was likely a pothole. One moment I was cruising along chewing gum and peacefully rocking the Beatitudes. The next I had mainlined enough raw electrical current to support a typical Google data center through my right earhole. That massive jolt tracked straight into my brainstem. What happened next was a sort of surreal out-of-body experience.
I have no idea who was driving my Jeep, but it sure as heck wasn’t me. Jesus, maybe. By some extraordinary miracle, the thing coasted to a stop of its own accord.
My head felt like I had been vacationing inside a rocket engine. The sound resonating in my skull was like crack-addled toddlers banging out AC/DC’s Highway to Hell on frying pans. I could smell burnt hair.
I no longer heard Mr. McLean, his soothing voice now replaced by the jackhammer pulsatile throbbing of my heartbeat. My vision remained disconjugate while my brain struggled to re-cage my eyeballs. The world outside my Jeep now existed at about a 15-degree list. I could not have related with complete certainty my name, species, age, or gender.
After about five minutes, I gradually regained my wits and puttered the rest of the way home. No kidding, I found my cell phone the following day deep underneath the passenger seat. I am at a loss as to how it got there. My gum was just freaking gone. I have no idea what happened to that. I can only hope it’s not still lodged up in my sinuses someplace.
I carefully removed my iPhone from Satan’s cell phone case and returned the diabolical thing to its original packaging. I then dropped it in the post glad to see its stern. I included a brief note suggesting that they might consider rethinking the safety catch.
The post Called by Jesus appeared first on Field Ethos.
Continue reading...
Every word of this story is true.
If you are a human being and own a smart phone, you could be forgiven for believing that the world is fast tracking straight to hell. Seldom does a day go by that the newsfeeds on our phones do not regale us with some fresh new horror. The smart phone, handy and recreational though it might be, is the devil’s box. I’m pretty sure I was way happier before I got one.
That having been said, your cell phone is the one thing you are never truly without. You might misplace your keys, your kids, your spouse, your underpants, or your rescue inhaler, but that smart phone is always close at hand. Wouldn’t it be inspired to incorporate some sort of effective sub-lethal defensive weapon into the ubiquitous cell phone?
Find a Need and Fill It
Gun writing is a pretty sweet hustle. I had to pay my dues as might be the case with any quasi-artistic pursuit, but nowadays I frequently get access to cool-guy stuff before it reaches the Common Man. Sometimes that’s the latest, greatest high-capacity Glockopatomus. Others that is somebody’s revolutionary new personal defense device. This experimental cell phone case-cum-stun gun was legit inspired.
This thing really was the ultimate defensive tool. The case was not markedly larger than my phone, but it included a built-in zillion-volt stun gun in the housing. A hidden switch deployed electrodes and, ideally, fried the crap out of an assailant. If this rascal worked as advertised, then every father of every daughter on Planet Earth would gift one to his favorite fair-haired college coed when first she trekked off to school. My job was to live with this thing for a while and render a learned and insightful opinion.
And so I did. Whenever things got slow at the medical clinic where I work, I sat around electrocuting stuff. Bugs, fruit, Coke cans, surgical instruments awaiting the autoclave, and my PB&J sandwich all got to meet Old Sparky. I was most thoroughly smitten.
One fateful evening I was heading home after a hard day at the clinic listening to the actor Max McLean read the Bible on a cell phone app. McLean’s dulcet vocalization of the gospels was a soothing balm after a rough day of hemorrhoids, heart disease, emotional instability, and snot. My old derelict Jeep Cherokee rattled like Nancy Pelosi’s skull. As a result, I held my cell phone up against my right ear so I could hear clearly. You can see where this is going.
Riding the Lightning
I legit have no idea what happened. It was likely a pothole. One moment I was cruising along chewing gum and peacefully rocking the Beatitudes. The next I had mainlined enough raw electrical current to support a typical Google data center through my right earhole. That massive jolt tracked straight into my brainstem. What happened next was a sort of surreal out-of-body experience.
I have no idea who was driving my Jeep, but it sure as heck wasn’t me. Jesus, maybe. By some extraordinary miracle, the thing coasted to a stop of its own accord.
My head felt like I had been vacationing inside a rocket engine. The sound resonating in my skull was like crack-addled toddlers banging out AC/DC’s Highway to Hell on frying pans. I could smell burnt hair.
I no longer heard Mr. McLean, his soothing voice now replaced by the jackhammer pulsatile throbbing of my heartbeat. My vision remained disconjugate while my brain struggled to re-cage my eyeballs. The world outside my Jeep now existed at about a 15-degree list. I could not have related with complete certainty my name, species, age, or gender.
After about five minutes, I gradually regained my wits and puttered the rest of the way home. No kidding, I found my cell phone the following day deep underneath the passenger seat. I am at a loss as to how it got there. My gum was just freaking gone. I have no idea what happened to that. I can only hope it’s not still lodged up in my sinuses someplace.
I carefully removed my iPhone from Satan’s cell phone case and returned the diabolical thing to its original packaging. I then dropped it in the post glad to see its stern. I included a brief note suggesting that they might consider rethinking the safety catch.
The post Called by Jesus appeared first on Field Ethos.
Continue reading...
