I met the Curmudgeon outside the Melbourne Art Fair last night and we prepared to step therein. “Hold on,” he said, fishing in his jacket pocket, “I’ll just get the tickets.” [rummage rummage] “Oh, THAT’S not them!” he exclaimed as he theatrically extracted an iPhone from the recesses of his attire, grinning fiendishly.
See, we are not, or have not been thus far, iPhone owners. He thought about getting one and lost interest (or so I thought). I work with oodles of people who have them and whimper like lost kittens when they are more than a metre away from their precious appendage. So until now I’ve been an iPhone eye-roller and have had no idea to do with them when I’ve been instructed, on the odd occasion, to find a map or make a call on someone else’s.
But then, later that night, I was playing with the thing and became completely absorbed. It’s entrapment, I tell you. Like a hypnotist dangling a soporific watch.
livebird 