Zing went the strings of a lot of people’s hearts after the 1934 Broadway revue Thumbs Up! where it all started, and while it might have made them a lot of the nice folding stuff at the time, you have wonder whether all that zinging was ultimately in their best interests given that most of the hearts that embraced it have since stopped beating.
I suppose a lot of that could be put down to the passage of time and normal life expectancy, but I’m not totally convinced. I mean, imagine it. There’s your heart happily going about its job secure (perhaps even a little smug) in the knowledge that its smooth functioning is crucial to your wellbeing, when a giant fist appears out of nowhere, grabs a bunch of strings it didn’t know it had, and suddenly, instead of going blop…blop…blop… it’s going blip-ziiiing-blipblip ziiing… in a manner way outside the troubleshooting manual of Heart Function for Dummies. You’d have to think such a rude shock would take years off its life.
Mind you, it’s a long time since my heart did any zinging and for all I know, the blip-zings were a welcome relief after all that blopping and it thoroughly enjoyed the experience. What I can say for certain is that neither it nor I have any desire for an encore, and if that makes us weird, we really, really don’t care.
On the contrary, I know I speak for my heart as well when I say that weird is entirely preferable to any nasty, blippy disruptions to my current state of blissful independence and – yes, probably selfish pleasure in being answerable to no one but myself (apart from my family, for whom I refrain from doing anything too stupid). For those whose zings have continued to echo down the years – god bless you, it must be wonderful. For me? Blop…blop will do just fine.