Lately a lot of conversations have seemed to focus on the theme of “Dave needs to get a new phone.”
Then they start listing reasons like, “you might have service in the office,” “you could hear people when you’re on a call,” “your phone smells like a decaying skunk,” and a bunch of other unimportant stuff.
I admit, I’m the type of person who gets a little stuck in his ways. I can tell it goes too far sometimes, like the disgusted look I get when people find out the soda refill mug on my desk is over 25 years old — and still never been washed.
It’s a common thing for men. They stop updating their wardrobe sometime in their 30s, which is why you’ll see guys at weddings in suits that are older than the bride.
Why change something if it works? The soda mug doesn’t leak, the suit still covers my nudity at public events and my phone still functions — mostly.
My protests over the new phone movement are met with arguments like, “the new phone unlocks just by showing it your face.” Because touching it with my thumb is so difficult?
“Oh, but you can do so much more with these new ones.”
Are we not already asking too much of our cell phones?
My first cell phone was the size and approximate weight of a medium-sized chunk of cinderblock. I had to carry two batteries with it at all times. It also had this crappy antenna you had to manually deploy if you wanted to receive or make a call. On those rare instances you did get a call, it cost dozens of dollars a minute to only understand about half of the conversation.
At the time, I thought it was pretty nifty. Any phone I talked on before was attached to a wall, with a wire. Using a cell phone at the time, I felt like a big shot. Look at me, I’m making a phone call in the park like a Hollywood movie producer, a mafia godfather or the lawyer those guys hire to defend them in court.
Soon cell phones went from something used by professionals for vital communication to something used by everyone for everything, except making actual phone calls.
Who calls when you can text? It’s annoying because now the word “text” can be used as a verb, like “bacon.”
Don’t want to do all that hard talking and listening? Just text it. Don’t like your lunch, bacon it.
Texting isn’t the only technical marvel to come from phones. We can also use them to look up any amount of important information, such as how many vowels are in the Klingon language, what’s that thing on the end of shoelaces called and who is president of the United States.
People also mistakenly think their phones are to be used as cameras for everything, including family portraits. Honestly, the cell phone camera was created for a singular purpose — to take embarrassing pictures of one’s self in the bathroom mirror to post on social media.
Instead of limiting our screen time, we use our phones to tell us what to eat, how to cook it, where to get it, how to get there and how many steps walked to do so.
Oh no, a flat tire! Surely there’s an app for that.
I own a 70-inch, high-definition television. My children insist on sitting in front of the TV, glued to their tiny screened devices, watching idiots taste test different types of ramen noodles on Youtube.
Sometimes I just want to yell at them — “You could be watching ‘Lawrence of Arabia!’”
Before I can, the Youtuber says, “this one smells like decayed skunk.”
Wait, let me see that! It sounds just like my phone.
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