Over the Roofs of the World

I used to disable the whistling mechanism on my teakettle, but after a series of unfortunate events involving melted plastic, Romancing the Stone, and an unexpected visit from a registered Republican, I've stopped. I now own a teakettle that sings to Jesus. Or Shiva, or the Tea Gods, or whatever it is that's mollified by infernal sopranissimo howling fit to wake the dead.

The question is how to make it stop.

There are, you see, several different strategies. Door #1 (aka Turndown the Burndown) involves flipping the stove dial of the appropriate burner to zero. (A less successful variation of this strategy involves flipping the burner behind the appropriate burner to zero.) Option #2 (Movin' on Up) involves the airlifting of the kettle to a neighboring burner, thereafter (hopefully) remembering to turn off the burner of origin. Finally there's strategy #3 (Flipping the Bird), wherein the would-be whistle annihilator flicks open the little piece of metal that occludes the spout.

WHAT TO CHOOSE? Turning down the burner requires the least of you in the way of bodily movement, but the barbaric yawping takes a while to die down. Flipping the Bird provides instant gratification -insofar as the removal of an aversive stimulus can be deemed gratification- but requires the insertion of your hand into Grave and Steamy danger. And transfer to an apposite burner offers the best of both evils, ensuring contact of your flesh with the hot metal handle AND a slow die-off of sound. Plus you still have to remember to turn off the burner.

If I slog through this agony every single time I brew a cup of tea, how in blazes am I supposed to make the big decisions in life? Like, oh, say, green tea or black?