There are very few alerts I need to hear
I don’t get to take as many naps as I would like to. My desired amount of naps would be about two per hour — unless I only get 10 hours of sleep, in which case I might need three per hour.
Of course, like most Americans, I rarely get a good night’s sleep and I rarely can squeeze in even one good nap a week. I sometimes nap through meetings with my eyes open. Fortunately, no one has figured it out yet as I’ve convinced my co-workers that my snoring is actually the sound I make when I agree with something. In fact, I was just named Most Agreeable Employee of 2018. At least, that’s what they tell me; I slept through the presentation.
Nearly a week ago, though, I took a day off to take care of my grandson who was nursing an illness. At 1 p.m., he lay down for a nap. At 1:01 p.m., I was snoring next to him.
Until 2:18 p.m. That’s when my phone began blaring some godawful noise like a sea lion being run over by a steamroller driven by a screaming Roseanne Barr. I prefer to be awakened by gentler sounds like a hamster being run over by a tricycle pedaled by a softly mumbling Dick Cavett as he listens to smooth jazz.
This, of course, was the “presidential alert” test of the National Wireless Alert System. It clearly noted on my phone’s screen that it was only a test and “No action is needed.” The only action that might be needed is a screen repair after I Mike-Tysoned the phone in a half-asleep panic.
By law, the president of the United States is responsible for determining when to use the emergency notification system. And, by law, he is prohibited from using it for anything other than alerting Americans to a major impending disaster.
This means that it could be used to let us know that nuclear missiles are headed our way. Frankly, I’d rather be surprised by such an event instead of spending several minutes dreading the impact. I suspect I’d wind up equally dead whether I knew in advance or not. I realize that the EPA last week decided to roll back some radiation regulations, noting that a little bit of radiation does a body good, like milk, but this amount of radiation would make you look like the illegitimate love child of The Thing and Carrot Top. (Fantastic Four Issue #127)
If, however, the president is determined to alert us to an impending nuclear holocaust, I’d prefer he do it with an alert tone that’s actually Prince’s “Purple Rain,” which likely would still be playing after the missiles struck, particularly if it’s the album version.
I also need the words on the screen to be relevant, such as: “Nuclear missiles inbound. Click here for a list of drinks you can make quickly with tequila.”
We could have used this before, of course. Most recently, in 2017, I would have appreciated an alert from the president if it said something like: “Dear Falcons fan. The second half of Super Bowl LI is about to kick off. Turn off the TV. Believe me. It’s for your own good. Don’t believe what you’ve seen in the first half. It’s fake football.”
I do believe that people’s fears of President Trump misusing this alert system may be a little overblown. I don’t expect any emergency presidential alerts like “KFC’s new Tex-Mex $5 fill-up is amazing” or “Sun rose for 645th straight day of my presidency and no one says thank you but you’re welcome anyway.”
So, don’t worry about getting any such ridiculous … BLARE! BLARE!
Excuse me. I just got a presidential emergency alert.
“Out of toilet paper! Stall 3! This is NOT a test! Action required! Immediately! Ten o’clock tee time in extreme danger!”
Chris Johnson’s books and more available at KudzuKid.com.
This story was originally published October 8, 2018 at 1:16 PM.