I am getting a smart phone.
Nothing represents the desecration of human society more than a smart phone. I see only peril in hand-held machines that can communicate, give directions in vague British accents, and allow us to become merry cartoon whales that fly atop rainbows without the aid of recreational drugs. They embody the beginnings of a cruel dystopian world where smart phones evolve into hyper intelligent phones and, eventually, into pretentious, liberal arts educated phones in New Hampshire that pontificate about whether a box of dinosaur shaped cereal featured in a Francois Truffaut film represents the extinction of meaning and feelings.
All of this being said, I am getting a smart phone. It is a decision that I made with scrupulous consideration – and by scrupulous consideration, I mean desperation and hypocrisy.
Why, you ask, has it taken an inordinate amount of time to transition to a smart phone like the rest of Sub-Saharan Africa? I have been in possession of a simple flip phone for over a year – generously lent to me after I literally washed my previous device and failed to revive it even after frantically shaking it in a bag of brown rice.* Like most things that generally suck, I managed to find proverbial and literal silver linings such as:
• Never having anxiety about anyone stealing my phone – and feeling either greatly humored or worried about the status of mankind at the prospect of its theft.
• Upon hearing a joke about the pre-historic ages directed at my phone, having a discussion about how brontosauruses are not actually real dinosaurs.
Alas, endless discussions about pseudo Middle-Triassic reptiles have been significantly outweighed by:
• Eliciting laughter from someone in a bar after taking out my phone – a kind of laughter I have not heard since I was a little, puffy, otter-like adolescent changing for 7th grade PE.
• Having my co-workers hear every single letter I punch into the phone when I send a text message.
• Being forced to put a moratorium on the phrase, “That’s so 2008. And you’re so 2000 and late.”
• Wanting to express, via T-9, that something, someone, or some situation is “cool” only to send “book.”
• Not reaching a significant benchmark at the age of 25 – and that is hearing Ah-ha’s “Take On Me” in the morning as my alarm ringtone.
• Making the following flow-chart documenting the process that I must go through since losing the function of three buttons on my phone:
*This actually happened.