After a recent series of small technological disasters in my life, I realized that while I love technology, I'm bad at taking care of it. If technology is rabbits, I'm John Malkovich -- I love petting the rabbits, but then I collapse their lungs with by big dumb mitts.
I recently fell asleep wearing my white Apple ear-bud headphones (petting rabbits), but at some time during the night I rolled over and yanked the computer off the table (collapsing rabbit lungs under the weight of my dumb mitts). I woke to
find the screen of my Macbook Pro looking like a modern art
piece, smashed in the lower left corner, fracture lines webbing out
against the gut-black sludge that now glows over the damaged half of
the screen. The other half of the screen is still working, and the computer itself
is unharmed, but its a rather pathetic thing to behold. See:
addition to this technological disaster, the screen of my LG Cherry
Chocolate cell phone has been blank for almost two weeks, meaning the
phone works, but the screen does not -- my contacts are there,
but I can't read them -- I can call out, but I can't see who's calling
-- I can receive texts, am alerted when I receive a text, but I cannot read
the received text. This little racket was beginning to make me paranoid.
Imagine, people are trying to tell you things, and you having no idea what,
or why, or how important it might be to your social or professional
life, and no way of explaining to everyone why you've been ignoring
them. It isn't nut cancer, but still unnerving.
With no where else to turn, having broken most every gadget
that connects me to the world, I decided to trade in my ol' click-wheel slider for the best damn gadget on
the market, the Apple iPhone.
Now, there are some (Maddox),
who will claim the iPhone is not the best phone on the market. These
people are wrong, and their phones look like early VCR's (Maddox). It
should be noted that when last I ran into Maddox he was not using the
phone referenced in the rather dated article there, but a contraption
that resembled a Speak n' Spell.
"But it has the full version of Quake on it!," you (Maddox) insist.
"Quake!? Nice. Where does the Grolier's CD ROM go?"
"But there's no Grolier's CD ROM... oh, you're making fun of me."
"Your phone sucks."
"But I have the best page in the universe," you (Maddox) claim.
"You really don't. Your page looks like it's run by one of the Smokers in the Post-Apocalyptic society, Waterworld."
"I, Maddox, love the movie Waterworld, and The Postman was Costner at his best."
With Maddox irrefutably bested, I set out to join the 3G network, and an age of man unlike any we have ever known -- that perfectly reflexive global society, where our collective consciousness wears an incase and syncs with my Google contacts. Man is evolving for whatever Post-Apocalyptic society comes next, and seeing how well my keyboard fared against but one drop of water, let's hope it's not the Sea-Doo Apocalypse. Oh, and thanks for tracking me down to deliver this credit card offer, The Postman, but have you ever heard of Mobile Me?
Stay tuned for my continuing coverage of the future. Also, this:
Hall of Fame