Vuvuzela, Ella, Ella…
June 21st, 2010The Orange Trumpet of Death was a little number I picked up way back in 1997. It was plastic, it was incredibly loud and it cost $2 at the Halloween store… it was irritation incarnate – the vuvuzela. Like the grain of sand no oyster can gloss in soothing pearl, like the truck-bomb blast MacGyver-ed from everyday ingredients, such is the sound of this instrument, the output of this tool. I kept the Orange Trumpet of Death close, knowing I had the dormitory equivalent of an atomic weapon, should I need it. And at times it was inconvenient to keep a giant orange horn around, but there is no going back. Like Alfred Nobel and his TNT, there is no way to put back this discovery.
This vuvuzela-packing-world is not the perfect world you might design, but it’s still your world. Embrace it. (And keep some earplugs handy.)