In my new post-austerity budget, I could very likely afford one of those fancy plastic slabs with a more-than-minimal data plan, maybe, but it’s not happening. I hasten to note that this non-event is hardly specific to me. Consider the case of Elisson’s dad:
It was difficult enough to convince him to get a cellphone for emergencies. He and his wife would make the round-trip drive to Florida every year, and eventually they allowed that yes, it would be prudent to be able to get in touch with someone just in case THEIR CAR, GAWD FORBID, WERE TO BREAK DOWN IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING OKEFENOKEE SWAMP. So there was that.
But a smartphone? You know, like all the Kool Kidz are carrying around these days?
No Frickin’ Way.
Motivation for my first cell phone: emergency comms, if needed, along World Tour ’01.
But I haven’t gotten much beyond that yet:
What was it that made smartphones and computers such objects of Fear and Loathing?
I mean, aside from the fact that they suck all the data out of your house and bank account and feed it into giant enterprises run by the government, the Russian Mafia, and Amazon?
And if you work for the feds, add “and Chinese hackers” to the list.