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Published February 14, 2009
Purchasing an iPhone in the midst of the worst economic shitstorm since the other one is no small thing, especially for a struggling twenty-something with a propensity toward parking violations.  This would need assistance, a voice of reason.  It would require the counsel of Scott Bell: roommate, bass guitar player, paper merchant, and, for our purposes here, a numbers guy.  This is Scott toward the end of our journey.  Look how happy he is there enjoying a pint of Guiness and Harp:

Scott Bell: Numbers Guy

Scott would be a crucial player in my fiscal analysis of the situation.  After all, I was about to purchase one of man's greatest achievements during one of the worst economic crisis' of the modern age.  That said, in the Great Depression of the 30's men were eating their boots -- during this one men are downloading Apps and watching the doped child's post-op babbling on Youtube.

I find my numbers guy still laying in his bed under the ladder, fully dressed from night before, idly gazing at the ceiling.  He grins sheepishly.

"Hello Joe."

"Hello Scott"

I brief him on the plan and promise food, which seals it.  Scott scoops his hat up off the floor, stands looking disheveled, then proclaims, "I'm ready to go.  Let's go." 

We go.

I anticipate a mountain of red tape and paperwork, but canceling my Verizon service is more convenient than ever at the Apple Store on the 3rd St. Promenade in beautiful Santa Monica, CA.  I'm helped by one of many hip twenty somethings in monochromatic t-shirts -- iPeople, if you will.

"I'll join your 3G network," said I, "but I'm keeping my awesome phone number."

Let him stick that in his core duo.

"Oh, we'll just port it over with our cellular telephone number porter.  The only thing you need is your account number from Verizon and then we start porting numbers."

And there it is, a catch to ruin the big adventure I'd planned for Scott on a Saturday.

My numbers guy paced behind me, distracted.  What good's a numbers guy if he doesn't remind you to bring your numbers?  Well, here's where the dream dies.

"I don't have my account number with me."

The iPerson doesn't blink. 

"No problem.  If you have an online account with Verizon you can simply log into your account using this Macbook Air and find your number there," said the monochromatic iPerson. 

The dream lives!

This guy's good, very convincing.  He makes me feel safe.  I stare around the store at the army of monocromatic twenty-somethings -- little trouble-shooting elves of the future. 

I can trust these people, look how efficient the all are.  They understand my plight as a consumer.  Hey, there's my friend, Aaron!

I was beginning to see my iPerson less like a big goofy looking skeeze-freak techdouche trouble-shooting gnome creature from the future, and more like a human -- an iHuman -- my iHuman. My iFriend... toy.  My iRobot.  Will Smith.  The Willenium.  Ahhh, Y2K was weird!.... See, my iPerson (I've named him Soto, but I don't tell him that) understands me, in the same way that Steve Jobs understands me, and I he, and we need each other during these hard economic times.  Has Benjamin Buford Blue taught us nothing?  If we're not going to lean on each other, we're gonna hafta sleep wit our heads in da mud. 



I was able to cancel my Verizon plan, port my number, and switch to the 3G network in a matter of minutes.  In a matter of a few minutes more I was carefully rubbing concentric circles around my iPhone screen with my American Apparel t-shirt.  I also bought a case that feels like the future.

I enjoy holding my iPhone, I mean, I am physically attracted to the idea of holding my iPhone.  I like the weight of my iPhone in my hand.  The soft texture of my hard black incase cradling my iPhone makes me want to pet it.  My iPhone whispers to me when I'm late for work, and nudges me when someone's trying to get my attention.  My iPhone keeps photo albums and shows them to all our friends.  My iPhone always knows of great restaraunt close by, and she's great with details too.  For instance, I can never remember dates, or phone numbers, or which Stiff Little Fingers album Alternative Ulster was on (Punk - The Jubilee), stuff like that... you get the idea.

See, my iPhone gets me, and I her.  We're all we've got.  Happy Valentine's day, iPhone. 

(Another great thing about the iPhone is bitch don't be runnin' her mouth, am I right?)
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