Preliminary Hearing Suspended

By Jim Hagarty

I am not a conspiracy nut, but I do honestly believe that there has been a plot hatched and carried out by certain people around me to convince me that bats have better hearing than I have.

On several occasions, in fact, my nearest and dearest have levelled the ridiculous claim that I am deaf as a post.

This is an insult to posts and arrogance unlimited. Who are they to say that a post cannot hear? Or that it has no feelings, in fact.

But being the sensitive kind, I have begun to believe the charges being levelled against me. And it is becoming a self-fulfilling claim. I have begun not hearing as well as I used to because of my so-called deaf-as-a-postness.

However, tonight I got the ammunition I have been searching for which will even the score. I was in a shop when I saw hanging there a pair of “volume reduced” headphones. In an instant, my epiphany was realized and strong. My problem is not that I am hearing reduced at all. The dilemma comes from the obvious fact that I am living in a volume reduced world. Volume reduction is even being sold on store shelves now, for pete’s sake, without any care for people of normal hearing capabilities such as I.

It has been suggested that I spend thousands of dollars to render myself “hearing enhanced.” I will not do it.

What I will do instead, however, is to start a campaign to end the scourge of volume reduction. The next thing you know, shelves will be stocked with “sight reduced” eyeglasses.

At least that’s what I hear.

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.