Annoyance or Convenience?

So the other day I was standing in the supermarket aisle scoping out the canned veggies. This young lady a couple of feet away asked: "Honey, what kind of black-eyed peas should I buy?"
I was a bit flabbergasted by her familiarity, but flattered that she wanted to tap my expertise in selecting the proper legume. So, I said: "Well, sweetie, the ones with snaps add flavor to peas and ham hocks being cooked as a soup. If it's a side dish, go with snaps and bacon bits. Better yet, forget the cans and pick the fresher peas in frozen food. Thawing takes longer, but the extra taste is worth the wait. For cornbread, I recommend ..."
She turned and looked at me like a meter maid sizing up a suspected purse snatcher.
Then I saw it, half-hidden under coifed hair. The small device clinging like a baby possum curled around her ear.
I had been bitten once again by Bluetooth, the wireless technology that allows cell phone users to jabber sans hands.

My brushes with Bluetoothing shoppers are becoming more frequent. But enough is enough. I plan to fight this Bluetooth-and-nail by developing an aggressive defense mechanism to disguise chagrin. The next Bluetoothed black-eyed pea picker who mutters a word will get a G-rated version of Robert DeNiro doing Travis Bickle in Taxi Driver: "Are you talking to me? I don't see nobody else around. So you must be talking to me."
Then I'll tell the walkie-talker to stuff his Bluetooth in a Blackberry.
Of course, this is an even bigger fantasy than believing in the Bluetooth Fairy. Bluetooth users are replicating faster than pods after an invasion of body snatchers. Each shopping trip I encounter more aliens transmitting endless telepathic messages handlessly back to mother ships. The tower of Bluetooth babble is only going to get bigger and louder, creating even more chances for offhand foot-in-mouth incidents.
Where I come from, people who ambled around apparently conversing with themselves were considered a half-bubble off plumb. As far as I'm concerned, Bluetooth should be treated as a concealed weapon of mass communications destruction. Any person with an earful should be required to wear a sign blinking "Bluetooth On Board."
Victims should be able to sue for pain and suffering caused by Bluetooth abuse due to deceptive conversation practices. I figure $10 per episode should cover my loss of dignity.
An even greater fear is the inevitable spread of Bluetooth decay beyond supermarket shelves. One day soon I'll be in a department store. A woman standing nearby will say: "Honey, what size boxer shorts do you wear?"