Amish accountancy

I'm not Amish. I have to remind people of this occasionally, because when they see the beard and hear how much technology I refuse to use, they just naturally presume. ("Thou art incorrect," I say.)

Of course, as soon as they see me try to raise a barn, they'd realize if I am Amish, I'm not very good at it. But like the Amish, I avoid certain technologies, because I think some inventions don't improve my life.

Take cell phones. (Please!) I don't even like answering the phone when I'm home. It's rarely an important or even wanted call. Most likely it's a telemarketer, either trying to sell you something or asking for donations. Which is not to say that you can't ever have fun with telemarketers. Sometimes I get the calls that say, "Is this Mr. Brown?"

"Yes..."

"We're conducting a short survey and were wondering if you'd be willing to answer a few questions?"

I like to reply, "Yes, I'm willing to answer two questions, but this is the second one, so have a pleasant day."

Then I hang up.

Entertaining as that is, if I'm out and about, I don't need the interruption. I think of phones as a prison that trap you into being around for other people's

convenience. Why would you want to be imprisoned, even when you're away from home? I guess that's why they call them cell phones.

The thing that really used to surprise people was that I didn't use a credit card. Most people in college have already gotten a credit card and racked up hundreds or thousands of dollars' worth of debt. This shouldn't come as a surprise when students are bombarded with so many credit card offers.

There's a new offer in the mail every day. Telemarketers call to give you credit cards on the aforementioned accursed phones. Representatives for Visa leap out at you from behind bushes, MasterCard employees pass you notes in class, and people from American Express will follow you around so much that you literally can't leave home without them.

Even the college administration contributes to the credit culture. Some colleges require dozens of credits just to graduate, thereby exacerbating the problem. And it doesn't get better in adulthood; the average American household with at least one credit card has nearly $9,000 in credit card debt. There were only two ways for me to avoid that statistic: I could either forswear credit cards or households. And since I dislike camping, credit cards had to go.

Many people believe that the reason credit cards create so much debt is because they don't seem real. And indeed they aren't; they're plastic. They don't feel like money, and simply handing someone a card is not the same as handing over a fistful of green paper bills from your wallet. Money has a certain smell to it, a certain heft when you count it out, a certain taste when you lick all of your nickels. Although, for some reason people often tell me to just keep the change.

Anyway, in spite of my long-time resolve only to deal in real money, last week I was convinced to sign up for eBay. And within 24 hours, I had racked up a very large illBay. I realized that if I didn't get off the site soon, I was going to be okeBray.

The thing about eBay is that the money doesn't feel real, so you merrily click on everything that looks interesting, and suddenly you're bidding on two dozen movies. In real life, I go into a store and pick up two dozen movies, but then spend half an hour putting most of them back before I reach the register. Online shopping can remove a lot of that consideration time.

It's a dangerous technology. This is why I've decided to follow the example of the Amish. Which reminds me, I think I saw a listing for a butter churn...

Seth Brown is an award-winning humor writer, the author of "Rhode Island Curiosities," and in spite of what his parents ask, was not raised in a barn. His column appears weekly in the Transcript and weakly on his Web site, www.RisingPun.com.