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Teach the Gecko to Do it. Im On Hold at BUtterfield 8 by Lad Moore
I am quickly gathering age. My milestone is that I lived past the actuarial table cutoff for lethargic, sedentary, overweight males. Allowing I know very little else about human mortality, I am at least an expert on the morbid evolution of telephones. I have been fascinated with human communication ever since I watched Andy of Mayberry endure the well-intentioned help from Sarah when all he wanted was a simple line connection:
Good morning Sarah, give me Floyd.
Hello there, Andy. Before I connect you, Goober wants to know if you want him to lube the patrol car, and Aunt Bee says to pick her up a new pair of size 18 cotton drawers over to the Mercantile.
Eventually, progress won out in Mayberry and elsewhere, albeit somewhat sad. The sweet Sarahs of the world would meet their un-ceremonial de-plugging with the arrival of the dial tone.
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