By Will E. Sanders
There was this ad the other day that claimed the new Droid cell phone has a Kevlar back plate. Kevlar, as in the stuff a bullet-proof vest is made of. I guess that’s great if you are always getting shot at close range.
The screen of this new phone is made from something mysteriously called gorilla glass. You can’t see my face at home, but I’m not amused. I have a sneaking suspicion that “gorilla glass” is just normal glass with a cooler sounding name — so they can bump up the asking price.
Or you could just be careful and not drop your fancy phone on the pavement, butterfingers.
Another selling point of this phone is its waterproof circuitry, perfect for idiots who bathe or go swimming with their cell phones or morons who enjoy using their cellphone as an aquarium decoration. But it’s quite simple, actually. Placing appliances in or around water is never a wise decision.
The most touted feature of this phone is how slim it is. That’s impressive, a cell phone that’s even easier to lose track of. That way when you accidently sit on it — and the gorilla glass shatters — you will only have a mild case of the My-Butt-Hurts.
What I am about to tell you now is the honest truth. I don’t even have a cell phone. I have never had a cell phone. And I am never going to get one — ever.
In fact, I am probably the only person on planet Earth over the age of 12 without a cell phone, Amish individuals excluded.
I can’t really explain how it happened, but after a while I became enraged with cell phones and vowed to never own one. That was more than a decade ago.
When everyone else has a cell phone, it’s sorta like you have one, too, if you catch my drift.
Otherwise, my home phone is my cell phone. Pretty cool, huh?
My girlfriend, Christine (I’m not calling her my fiance because of my ongoing ban on the French), is always urging me to get a cell phone in the case of an emergency or car wreck, like we don’t live in a well-populated area.
“We live in Ohio, Christine, not the Arctic Circle,” I remind her. “People didn’t always have cell phones, you know. What do you think people 200 years ago did when their cars broke down?”
“I don’t know. Die at the age of 30 of cholera,” she responded, and then paused. “And I hope you really do realize that cars weren’t around 200 years ago.”
Try to see it from my perspective. Half of the time, when I see someone with a cell phone, they are cursing how it doesn’t work or isn’t receiving a signal, and the other half of the time they spend ignoring people who are calling them.
A cell phone, to me, is just another complicated way of avoiding someone you don’t want to talk to — all while paying $110 a month while falling for over-hyped, made-up-words like gorilla glass and being informed when one of your friends laughs out loud.
I have a home phone and an office phone. If I am not at one, I am at the other. If I am at neither, then it means one of two things:
Either I am driving in between the two, in which case I am more focused on not dying in a fiery auto crash than I am on you calling to ask me where I put the kitchen tongs.
Or, I am at another location where I am not going to be bothered by the likes of you even if I possessed a cell phone.
Maybe even a third, I suppose. Like, I am dead. But even if I had a cell phone, in that unlikely event my calls would go to voicemail — so leave a message after the beep, beep, beee-eee-eeeps…
By the way, the kitchen tongs are in the microwave, and it’s best not to ask why.
At the heart of the matter, it really comes down to this: I want to be bothered by people less, not more. I am not looking for additional avenues of annoyance.
Besides, in a few years, when we all find out these things cause brain tumors, I’ll be the healthiest dude around.
To contact Will E. Sanders, visit his website at willesanders.com, or send him an email at firstname.lastname@example.org.