The Buddha said that we're not punished for our anger but by our anger.
That is why, whenever possible, I turn the other cheek (recommended by another credible source). I've let go of bad calls during the World Series, the disappearance of tax money, and SUVs taking up three lanes at once; but there is one grumble I just can't fight off:
Walkie-talkie cell phones.
It's bad enough to be surrounded by people who used to be perfectly quiet, but now we hear both ends of the gobbledyblab.
"Hey, Dave, this is Bob. I was just calling because silence scares me."
"Hey, Bob. I'm on the other line with Betty. She's got lint stuck between her toes. Let's talk three-way!"
And each sentence ends with that little blood-curdling "chirp." That's what Sprint would have you call them -- "chirps." Cheery name for something that has doubled the rate of hypertension (science is only beginning to understand the effects of second-hand conversation).
Having given this some thought, I have decided that I am prepared to give my life in a war against the walkie-talkie cell phone. It's the least I can do to save our grandchildren from living in a world chirp where even the Buddha chirp would chirp chirp go chirp insaaaane chirpchirpchirpchirp.