OK everyone. I'm very concerned about something and a bit frightened at the same time.

Lately, a bizarre characteristic, for the lack of a better description, has caught my eye on numerous occasions. I'm not sure if it is some sort of gradual advancement pertaining to the evolution of mankind, or if it's just the opposite.

I mean, it could be a jumbo leap backwards in terms of humanity's progression, or regression if you will—or even if you won't. (All of these “ion” words are driving me to listen to opera.)

Concerning the above-mentioned distress, I am hoping that you, my steadfast readers, could shed some light on the issue for me.

You see, this disturbing, and quite peculiar, “thing” involves the development of Homo sapiens. It appears to be a parasite which is very much attracted to the lobes of our nation's youth. Yes, I do mean lobes of the ear variety.

I truly don't know what to make of the whole scenario and frankly, I've grown very weary of it.

Have you spotted the extra body part of which I speak?

I bet you have because it seems to be draped in, and around, the shoulder and ear regions. Plus, all one really has to do to catch a glimpse of the lengthy-lobe-appendage, is to stroll down any street, visit a store or simply glance in the direction of most any teenager.

I guarantee you will spy a youngster with one of the lobe riders dangling from the ear region to some other location on his frame.

Not only but, this new auditory “limb” causes one to be in a perpetual state of downward gawking. This is, of course, only true for those who have, indeed, evolved to the point of actually possessing the extra body part.

I fear for unassuming pedestrians, stray dogs and/or inanimate objects because of the collision factor.

Nimble digit movement also plays a very important role in terms of the lobe apparatus and the four-sided-gadget to which it attaches.

The long, wire-like ear décor operating in synch with rapid-thumb-fire, (pounding wildly upon a rectangular object), as youthful eyes are fixed in a trance-like-state, is bad news, any way one looks at it. (Holy crow, as Karen Morrison Dygert, would say. That was a boatload of words.)

I have a teen child who has grown one of the lobe deals, long cord and all, and is oft stooped forward, in the fashion of his grandmother Boyd who is in her late 90s.

His friend, Kory, is absolutely never without his new body part and spends his life looking at his feet whilst his thumb movement causes sonic booms.

This is all to carry important messages to other teens who are, more likely than not, standing within a 25 foot radius of the message sender.

Every time Kory enters this home, white, thin, twine-type material lounges about the neck as it reaches for the square machinery being held tightly in his hand. Not a word is spoken as to avoid breaking the spell.

I have, however, noticed that Kory is the first to alert me when the carpet is in need of a good cleaning.

Do these new parts of the human anatomy do more harm than good? Are they beneficial in terms of evolution or are they one of those mutations one so oft hears about when discussing such scientific data?

Call me a bit old fashioned, if you will, but what is the point of the text messaging rage? Isn't calling a person just as easy? Good lord, soon we won't even have to make any kind of human contact whatsoever.

Ah ha! That must be it. Indeed, it's Nature's little way of giving us a look into the future when no communication will be needed. I'll be jiggered. Perhaps there is something good about the new lobe feature that adorns the ears of many a youth.

Well, I confess that I just can't get used to this insanity and yes, I am feeling about 127 years of age currently just for saying this stuff.

I simply do not understand all this newfangled

jazz that is out on the market and I really don't want to.

I have nothing more to add to this ridiculous column so it's time for me to head over to the rotary phone, and make some business calls. Or, I could learn how to use the new gadgets but, unfortunately, I've not grown one yet. This must be something that happens during puberty and, clearly, that time has long passed me by.

The End.