Litter

By the power vested in me as a professor of rhetoric, I hereby put the world on notice that I do not have a "radar screen." If you've confused me with an aircraft carrier, get glasses. I have five perfectly good senses, and occasional twitchings of a sixth, but I do not sweep a beam of electromagnetic radiation round and round for the purpose of identifying the range, altitude, direction, or speed of both moving and fixed objects. That would be rude. Plus, I'd have to do some sort of Regan MacNeil trick with my head, which would hurt. On first usage, this metaphor might've been vivid; on second, it might've been tolerable. By now, it's been beaten past death into unrecognizable corpse pulp, and it stinks up far too many conversations.

Please be advised: I have declared the entire world around me a no-fly zone. If you put something on my radar screen, I reserve the right to pick it off with a Sidewinder.