From the depths of my pants pockets it beckons to me:”Take me out. Play with me. Fondle me…”
Apple’s “Tech Product of the Year” isn’t my first smartphone. Two handsets ago, I owned a Cingular 8125, a very functional Windows Mobile device with a slide out QWERTY (which I never used). But I don’t remember it talking to me like my new iPhone. Besides it was too bulky to live in my trousers. Besides the quasi-OS X GUI, the iPhone’s form factor is bona fide Apple: It looks sexy and it feels sexy. Is it perfect? Not by a long shot. The spell checker drives me nuts! I use my iPhone a lot to post text messages to Twitter. More often than not, I am “twitting” from a restroom, usually at work. I typed in a short blurb about the unholiness of my stools and the damn post showed up as “turfs”, not “turds”. Granted, it’s not really important. But consider the implications of this happening in reverse…
Nate: What up dawg?
T-Pimp: What up, g?
Nate: Time ta bounce dem East Side punks from our turd, bro!
T-Pimp: Say what?
And in the blink of an eye, a gangsta’s street cred goes out the door.
MR. JOBS, TEAR DOWN THIS SPELL CHECKER!
Or at least let us disable it. Yet I tweet on, syntax and grammar be damned. (How else would I get my business done on the hopper? It relaxes me.)
Surely there are already similar terms for the addictiveness of the iPhone, a la the now infamous “Crackberry”? iSmack? iCrank? And as a sex toy, well, like most other cell phones, it DOES have a vibrate only mode.