I cannot compete with an iPhone.
I mean, I am funny sometimes, but I cannot pull up twenty comedians out of my vault, living and dead, and do their funniest gigs for you. An iPhone can do that on YouTube for days. Days.
I enjoy talking — for awhile, but I can’t compete with chatrooms, tweets, and texting that go nonstop on every imaginable topic under the sun.
I enjoy games on most days for a little while, but I cannot compete with people who will play Words With Friends all day, and all night, and on weekends, and with people I don’t even know.
I know many constellations, but I can’t point my finger like I point my iPhone at any cluster and have it image the constellation, name it, and ask if I want to know more about it.
I know lots of people, but my Facebook keeps up with them to the minute round the clock and their newest images and comments and likes. My Facebook is better at it than I am.
I have used email from the days when it was on DOS (children, ask your parents or their parents) and now that is not enough if you can tweet and IM.
So, let’s put the phones in a pile on the table. First one to look at his or her phone picks up the tab for coffee or lunch.
Let’s play like we are funny, without showing some $#$**# thing on the phone. Let’s talk and look at each other and listen with our eyes and our ears as if there is more conversation in that interaction than in a text.
Actually, I might just send you a letter and doodle in the margins, if you are really rich to me.
You can’t compete with an iPhone, either. Work at the old things, listening, talking, being there, taking time for a long, langorious conversation.
— Don’t call. I am out of reach for a day. My phone needs extra time to charge.