i ran across a hilariously funny (and conspicuously accurate) article by jessica ravitz on cnn.com entitled in defense of my stupidphone. she makes a couple of salient arguments that i have made (much less elegantly) in the past (here and here if you’re interested).
you really need to read the entire piece, but here are a few of the juicier excerpts. enjoy.
Before I go extinct, though, I want to explain and defend my stupidphone position. And I want to make one thing clear: I am not your 90-year-old grandmother. I am only 43.
My aversion has everything to do with who I am — and who I desperately don’t want to be, and by that I mean many of you.
I am a klutz. I drop things. I’ve heard the splash of a phone flying out of my coat pocket and into a toilet one too many times. Whenever my scuffed-up cell hits the pavement, I’m grateful I don’t have a cracked screen to replace.
Then there are those videos of those oh-so-smart smartphone users staring down at their addiction and stumbling off subway platforms or into fountains and poles. I’m perfectly capable of doing that on my own and don’t need or want a phone’s help.
When people say they’re dying for the latest gadget, to replace the perfectly good one they already have, I can’t help but think about the kids I just visited in a refugee camp who are dying for the one bowl of food they get in a day.
I hope anyone who drops hundreds of clams for a phone already gives to the needy. But if the 2 million junkies who snatched up the iPhone 5 within 24 hours gave a mere $10 extra to hungry children on that day, or to any cause for that matter, then I’d cheer on their enthusiasm.
I accept that there will inevitably come a time when I’ll have to make the leap. At some point, my kind of phone won’t be available. Plus, I should probably try to find out what everyone’s gushing about.
People say I will love my smartphone once I have one. They also say I will never be the same. And maybe that’s what turns me off most.
I don’t want to receive pictures of anyone’s dinner while I’m out having mine. I don’t want to check out of an actual conversation because a random friend used an app to check in for an eyebrow wax. I don’t want to read work e-mails on a beach vacation when I should be reading a novel — the kind made of paper, if that sounds familiar.
If I ever become the person in a meeting or at a party who spends the whole time looking down at some iThing or snapping photos of myself, I’m telling you now to slap me.