I like my smartphone. That’s my Samsung Galaxy S II smartphone, by the way. It’s a multifunction device, a computer in my pocket. It’s a communications wizard, my portal to the wisdom of the world, and my portal to all the crap and shit, too. It plays music; it takes photographs, and captures videos in sharp, high definition detail. I can share my smartphone images with the world, I can blog, tweet, and email. I can share my innermost thoughts with my closest friends, flirt with my girlfriend, order a pizza, call a cab, book a ticket to the other side of the world, read books, watch movies, stare nostalgically at my photo gallery, shop for all kinds of shit, all with a few taps of my fingers on smudged gorilla glass. I have the world in the palm of my hand. There’s no excuse for ignorance anymore. I can summon the accumulated wisdom of the ages in the blink of an eye. Well, maybe that’s claiming too much, but there’s no doubt that I can access tomes of philosophy, or tidbits of trivia at whatever speed my rock solid 3G mobile connection allows.
My Samsung Galaxy S II smartphone is robust. I’ve dropped it, sat on it, spat on it, and even swatted flies with it. Is there nothing this slab of plastic can’t do? Oh, what a wondrous age we live in.