Silence. Please.

I don't want this to turn into a tirade, but who knows?

Over the past few weeks I've had more than my share of occasions to spend a considerable amount of time sitting in waiting rooms, mostly of the medical variety. It's a wonder our nation's insane asylums (I know that's not the politically correct thing to call them) aren't overflowing with screaming victims of what I call the Bedlam scourge.

It's everywhere. There are virtually no public places you can go these days without being bombarded by unnecessary and unwanted noise.

It all started innocently enough with elevator music. At first, everyone hummed along with whatever Barry Manilow tune was piped into the confined space of a cubicle in which human lives rely on a thin cable -- well, that's another phobia, isn't it?

Frankly, there are only so many times you can stand to hear one of Barry's melodies, not to mention that scrap of tune that knocks around in your head all day as you try to remember what rhymes with "lovable."

Next came eating establishments with piped-in music. At first, we thought certain musical presentations, particularly those with lots of stringed instruments, added a certain elegance, perhaps even a Continental flair, to purchased meals. Let me assure you that Europeans have the good sense to eat to the sounds of clinking flatware on good china and stimulating conversation. Period.

Of course, some smart cookie quickly discovered that certain music at certain tempos causes diners to eat faster or order more wine or choose the most expensive desserts, resulting in a nice bump to the bottom line.

Then came the first doctor's office to install a TV set. I suppose the thinking went something like this: If patients are watching soaps or infomercials, they will lose all track of time and won't mind waiting two or three hours for appointments made weeks ago and for which the patients dutifully arrived the requested 15 minutes early to fill out reams of paperwork attached to clipboards with ball-point pens tied to them because, Lord knows, doctors can't afford to have patients going home with free writing instruments stenciled with some pharmaceutical company's logo.

Now TV sets are everywhere. And they're always on. Even when no one is watching. And the volume usually caters to the hearing impaired.

Why?

When I look around most waiting rooms, I see fellow waitees carrying on what appears to be a normal life while TV noise blares around them. They pay no attention.

So is it just me?

It could be. When I go to friends' homes, I am astonished to find every TV set in the house is on. All the time. I am further astonished by the fact that there is more than one TV set. I discovered a long time ago that I can only watch one TV at a time. And rooms where TV sets have become commonplace -- kitchens, dining rooms and bedrooms -- are used for their intended purposes in the Sullivan household: cooking, eating and sleeping.

This week I was in a waiting area of a large health-care establishment. Piped-in music was blaring in another area of the building. Different piped-in music was playing in the waiting area. A loud TV set was playing in the empty waiting area next door. And another TV set was going full blast in the waiting area where I was.

"Mind if I turn off the TV?" I asked.

The glare I got in return told me I am out of touch, an old fogey and a troublemaker to boot.

If I wasn't physically ill when I arrived, I was mentally bonkers when I left.

I mentioned my concern about the waiting-room bedlam to a doctor.

"What TV?" he said.

Now I know exactly how Don Quixote felt.

R. Joe Sullivan is the editor of the Southeast Missourian.