I got one of those pocket computers recently and I hate it already. It’s called an iPAQ.
Tell me this: why does everything have to start or end with a small”i”?
iPod. iTunes. iPAQ. iPhone. GTi.
This little fucker of a thing is supposed to do everything. It’s a phone. It’s a camera. It’s a computer. It’s a notebook. It’s a calendar. It’s a secretary in your pocket – which is not necessarily something you’d want to think about too much. I got it so that I could multitask, multimanage, and multimedially multidrive, but now I want to multidrink and multimurder harmless passers-by. I multi-fucking-hate this tiny piece of tech-knowledge. Can I multi-whatever? No, I can multi-fucking not!
I can barely answer a phone call with the little bastard. I can’t send texts. It won’t wake me up in the morning like my battered old Nokia did. If I want to use it properly, I’ll have to go on a two-year course at MIT, and that’s only for phone calls. It has a keyboard for multi-fingered micro-midgets and after two days trying, I gave up.
And then I thought (to myself)
Bock, don’t be such an old Luddite. Embrace the tech knowledge. Fear not, I thought, for it does have handwriting recognition.
I’ll try sending a text using handwriting recognition I thought to myself (as opposed to anyone else.)
So I summoned up Wrinkly Joe on my list of contacts. How’s it going there Joe old buddy? I jauntily dashed off. How do you like my new fancy gadget?
The answer comes back:
What the fuck do you mean, 1 ton 5it goigthese, Jol olkodds, 7towdo hens fa as final glogtit?
Oh shit. Sorry, Joe. I’ll explain. It iaSit ul it was the leetwRitrg recagshon saffairn3j
Jesus, I fucking hate technology.