Technically Incorrect

Everyone and their band seems to be leaping on some kind of wagon with an Apple logo and attempting to rob it of its jewelry and gold coins.

The latest to try to capitalize from poking a little fun at Apple's treasure chest are the Florida Keys and Key West.

In an ad that would feel like it was for the iPhone if it was executed with slightly more style, the Keys hope to persuade you that "There's no app for this."

"This" refers to the fun of wondering if a disgruntled local houseboat resident who believes tourists are venal vermin might ruin your vacation.

No, wait, I think I have read one too many Carl Hiassen novels, in which pretty much every resident of Florida is trying to cheat every other resident of Florida (or unsuspecting visitor) out of house, home, dog, wife or, well, life.

So, in fact, what I meant to say was that the Keys believe that no iPhone app can substitute for a real Florida Keys experience, in which the sun will set beautifully, the canoe will never capsize, and no shark will ever approach you as you snorkel your way to a new level of consciousness.

If you were to choose an app over a vacation, one imagines that several schools of psychiatric medicine had already given up on your ghost.

I am concerned, though, that should someone from Apple be making like Grumpy the Dwarf, they might be upset at the Keys' use of the iPhone's rather characteristic finger wipe.

It seems as if Verizon Droid's avowedly male positioning will now include finger-pointing, high-pitched taunts, and echoes of "na-na-nana-na".

After revealing that Verizon has placed the iPhone on the Island of Misfit Toys, Ad Age is reporting that in the next Droid ad, the iPhone will be the subject of another touching description.

Apparently, the ad says the Droid "swaps semi-functional, giggling-brat-vanity for a bare knuckle bucket of does."

Oh, yes, the Droid is flexing its youthful muscles.

(Credit: CC Oakley Originals/Flickr)

One can never have enough buckets of does in this complex life. And it is refreshing to see someone spending $100 million in an attempt to take on the prom queen of cell phones.

However, these ads heap pressure on the Droid to perform as a phone and, indeed, as an item to be seen with.

Functionality can only take one so far. Somehow, I recall General Motors being the brand of supposed functionality. And that didn't quite, well, function for the company as things turned out.

Verizon has decided to take the spirit of Christmas and shove it into the part of iPhone users' chimneys where Santa would need a pick ax.

Some who viewed the first Droid teaser ad, just a couple of weeks ago, were stunned to see Verizon so baldly declare that the Apple uber-machine was, in some ways, deficient.

Rumor had it that this was an isolated attempt at leveraging publicity for the new Motorola device. However, this new ad shows that the iPhone is firmly on Verizon's list. And it's not Verizon's Christmas list.

The ad places the iPhone on the mythical Island of Misfit Toys. It's an island inhabited solely by those things you don't need, don't want and don't work.

At first, the strange collection of pink spotted elephants and peculiar Grandads-in-a-Box-Wearing-Some-Very-Strange-Bits-of-Chiffon are astonished that the iPhone has come to their island.

But then the Verizon version of the little AT&T 3G coverage map helpfully points out that it might be harder to download your beloved apps in some parts of the country.

"You're going to fit right in here!" squeaks a strange little blue object with wings, a propeller and a hearty dose of gallows humor.

Can one ever imagine that Apple might create a version of the "Get a Mac" structure with a new human (Joss Stone, perhaps?) representing the iPhone and a rather more vulnerable human (Kirstie Alley, perhaps?) representing Verizon?

Somehow, that wouldn't quite fit, would it?

I am all for discovering the Meaning of Life. And though I was once concerned that you could never trust scientists enough to find it, many wise people persuaded me that we should still try.

However, I am concerned with the news reported by the Guardian that a hungry bird has halted testing on the Large Hadron Collider.

The Collider, positioned on the increasingly sensitive border between France and Switzerland, has been quiet for more than a year after electrical faults and helium leaks.

What does it all mean?

(Credit: CC Mark Hillary/Flickr)

It is now being tested to prepare it for action and reaction. However, a de-beaked piece of bread that dropped into the machine appears to have caused a power outage.

CERN spokesperson Christine Sutton told the Guardian: "The problem related to the high voltage supply. We get mains voltage from the grid, and there was an interruption in the power supply, just like you might have a power cut at home. The person who went to investigate discovered bread and a bird eating the bread."

I know there will be some who might suggest that the bird was actually French, as the bread has been identified as being of baguette form.

However, shouldn't we be more concerned with the metaphysics of physics?

There are, according to the New York Times, some scientists who believe that this God particle experiment is being interfered with by time-traveling particles from our own future.

We need surely to be told not whether the bird was French but whether it was real, or whether it was some strange messenger from a future time, warning us not to mess with things we don't quite understand.

If you walked into a store to buy a jacket and had to keep it for two years, you might wonder just how much you felt like paying. This is where companies such as H&M have shown a superior understanding of humanity by pricing well-designed clothes for a naturally short life.

Yet when you buy a new cell phone, even an allegedly well-designed cell phone like the iPhone-assaulting Droid, you have to commit to it for a couple of years, or at least to considerable penalties should you and it have a difficult relationship and decide on a divorce.

Blogging masterperson Jeff Jarvis believes that taking on a Droid would cost him $2,600. Which is why he was stricken with the idea of a Gadget of the Month Club.

In a blog post on his own Buzz Machine site, Jarvis laid out the idea.

He said: "It's worth it for the phone and device companies because they just might seduce me into buying. They'd get more press from the folks who matter - early adopters. They'd sell more gadgets and service plans. They could even use it to try out new gadgets (who wouldn't pay to be a beta tester for the coolest gadgets?)."

Jarvis would like Best Buy or some other enticingly sensitive entrepreneur to bankroll this interesting operation.

How much is it really worth?

(Credit: CC All About George/Flickr)

"Obviously, it won't work if we all expect to get the Droid as soon as it's out without paying full freight," he said. "So charge more for that privilege. Every month, the one-month fee for a particular device goes down. I'm willing to pay a premium to try the Droid the first month or a Chrome-powered netbook. But I'll wait three or four months for to get my hands on a Nokia N900."

Jarvis even suggested that the premium to get your hands around a Droid could be bid up by the market and everyone would pay a membership fee to be a part of this exclusive club.

But why limit the trial of cell phones to freaks? What if every manufacturer offered its products, as does every clothes retailer, on a 30-day trial? Just as with clothes, people tend to take extra care of anything new they buy.

Some might damage their phones before they give them back, but those people should then be made to pay for them. Many might be just respectful enough to keep their new babies in fine condition.

Many more might be so happy with the phones that they would keep them. At least that ought to be the expectation with a phone that is supposed to be as revolutionary as the Droid.

The phones that failed in this constant trial would, presumably, be the phones that would fail anyway. So this 30-day idea would accelerate the natural selection that is at the heart of our happy way of life.

We would have more choice and the best products would prove themselves in the best arena--that of the instant mass market. And it would also open a new source of inventory and income for the sweet-natured second-hand cell phone salesman.

New cell phones seem to be coming to market with ever-increasing speed and an ever-increasing array of advances that prove to be temporary, so why should manufacturers force people to stick with them for two years or pay increasing penalties?

Why not allow consumers to select in the most natural way possible? Isn't that what one should do with all fashion accessories?

Sitting on a flight to the Texan outpost of Houston, I was pleased that the person sitting next to me was not a cigar-chomping, deodorant-free KKK member with a penchant for political discourse and the most troubling TV show in world history, "Wipeout."

Half way through the flight, though, I discovered that had my seat companion been of a difficult personal or political persuasion, I will soon be in the position to eliminate them.

You see, I was clutching a copy of the Atlantic Monthly, where I espied a highly stimulating article by future-thinker Jamais Cascio, whose name, like mine, you must never joke about.

He posits a very interesting and near future in which "augmented reality" technology will allow us to have visually displayed before our eyes location-specific data, telling us all sorts of things about those we encounter on a daily basis, whether we actually know them or not.

Apparently, Sony is already working on devices that you will wear like shades, devices that will stream all kinds of fun and fascinating information across your eyes.

"Look! There's a Ralph Nader donor who hasn't washed his shirt in a week!" "And over there! Yes, its the best friend of the mother of that girl who went mad at you for singing 'I Will Survive' at her daughter's wedding!"

"Ralph Nader? He doesn't exist, does he?"

(Credit: CC The Lightworks/Flickr)

Cascio wonders what people will choose to do with these systems, as they will offer excellent defenses against spam.

"Conceivably, users could set AR spam filters to block any kind of unpalatable visual information, from political campaign signs to book covers. Parents might want to block sexual or violent images from their kids' AR systems, and political activists and religious leaders might provide ideologically correct filters for their communities," he said.

He also suggests that we could simply eliminate the presence of people with whom we disagree: "You don't want to see anybody who has donated to the Palin 2012 campaign? Gone, their faces covered up by black circles."

I know some might find this prospect titillating, but I have breaking news on this subject. This augmented reality editing is already happening. It's called California.

Please, come live in my state for a while and see just how deftly people eliminate the mere existence of those who disagree with their views- and I am talking about people from all sides of the social and political spectrum.

Somehow, Californians live in their own mentally gated communities, denying the very presence of those with whom they have a problem and pretending to be in an alternative world, often with a little pot and a large smile for company.

While Cascio hopes for more tolerance and respect, the reality is that augmented reality technology will merely, for once, be following human behavior, rather than leading it by the nose, eyes, and fingers.

Can there possible exist a technology that will make us more reasonable? Now that would be worth investing in. Perhaps I will find some Texans who are already working on it.

I have become used to receiving urgent messages from people who have a sudden a desperate need for the use of my bank account.

There are tales of Nigerian wills and family disputes in Hong Kong. And I cannot even count the number of times I have won the UK Lottery.

I often wonder what sort of folks are behind these wizard wheezes, how long they take to concoct their bilge and whether they sit there hoping, like wizened insurance salesmen in sweaty nylon shirts, for that one big success that will make their year.

However, reader Julian Gomez has pointed me in the direction of what some might consider a new low in attempted online theft.

There are nasty, demented minds out there writing e-mails purporting to be from U.S. Marines stationed in Afghanistan.

Gomez received one that went like this: "When on a routine mission of search and destroy, we stumbled upon a concealed barrel with piles of weapon and ammunition, my men and I agreed that the money be shared, the sum of $900,000.00 (Nine hundred thousand dollars) now happens to be my share."

(Credit: CC Nina Hale)

If you are not already sucked in by this exciting tale, the writer brings in an international flavor: "I have the cooperation of a German diplomat working here for its evacuation to a safer country, though, I have not disclosed the true contents of the package to him. He believes it to be personal effects of an Asian American who died in an air raid."

So, perhaps carelessly, the writer is already admitting he is a liar. However, like the creme-de-la-creme of liars, he wants is to be able to trust you: "I need someone I can trust to receive this package as a relative to this dead Asian American, there is a secured way of getting the package out to a safer country for you to pick up."

All you have to do, therefore, is to pretend to be the relative of a dead Asian-American Marine. What could be simpler?

However, there is one crucial stricture: "One passionate appeal I will make to you is not to discuss this matter with a third party, should you have reasons to reject this offer, please destroy this mail as any leakage of its content could spell doom for me. I do not know how long we will remain here but hopefully before the year runs out, we shall be out."

Yes, the liar, having secured your trust, ends with an appeal to your sympathy.

Of course scam artists have been around since lucre became lucrative. And most people will see this tale to have the height it actually does. However, it takes just one person to fall for it to make it worth the scammer's while--perhaps someone with a special affinity for the military, someone lonely, perhaps aging, perhaps as trusting as the director of the FBI, whose wife prevented him from falling for an online scam.

With the boundaries of reality shows being expanded like the gut of a hot-dog eating champion, mightn't this be the time to get the finest online minds to compete in a show perhaps called "Scammers in the Slammer."

The winner would be the one who, less brawny than the Bounty Hunter but more brainy than Larry Page, smoked out more of these insidious little people from whichever hole they happen to inhabit.

I, for one, would love to watch that show. Wouldn't you?

This is the moment when a live stream will become a love stream.

A 23-year-old teacher from Minnesota named Lynsee, who is withholding her last name to preserve her anonymity, has decided not to withhold your fascination with every moment of the birth of her first child.

She has chosen to broadcast what some would describe as the most personal moment of their lives. Yes, you can watch her first born emerge into this vibrant but confused world. Live on MomsLikeMe.com.

Some will feel this is media exposure gone beyond the bounds of filmic exposition. But Lynsee, who has already been describing her pregnancy in some considerable detail to her more than 1,300 followers on the site, is adamant that this will be an educational experience.

She told ABCNews.com: "If I were in a classroom, I'd be teaching about development. It was a way for me to teach...A way for me to use myself as a textbook."

When it comes to childbirth, there can never be too much education.

(Credit: CC Brainware3000/Flickr)

I know that those of a more technical, or indeed, merely curious bent, will be wondering about some of the details surrounding this made-for-TV spectacular.

Well, her husband, Anders, will be with her. As will her mom. Look, please don't ask me about these conventions. But does one really need one's mom in there? Perhaps, one supposes, if she's a nice lady.

Gosh, I almost forgot the cameraman. Yes, he will be in the birthing room, as will a second camera, delicately positioned in the corner to capture alternative views.

Strangely, though, Lynsee told ABCNews.com that there will not be any "graphic" over-the-midwife's-shoulder shots. Some might feel that if the point of the video truly is education, then it should enlighten rather than conceal.

However, I am sure that this live-stream no-pay-per-view event, which ought to occur in the next few days, can serve a positive purpose.

There will be those who might wonder, after the sublime experience of participating in Erykah Badu giving birth on Twitter, whether they might be able to communicate with Lynsee while she is enjoying her starring educational role.

Well, if you register with MomsLikeMe.com, you will, oh, goody, be able to live chat with Lynsee while her baby swims down the river of life into the world.

Perhaps this streaming will be the beginning of a trend, one that might provide a new revenue stream for the many cameramen who have been idle in this vicious recession.

Perhaps there will soon be birthing cumbayas, where friends of the parents from around the world can watch, while advising and cheering on via live chat. Filmmakers might join in too: "Turn a little to the left Lynsee! Bit more! The camera loves your left profile, darling! Oops, hold on there little one! Not Yet! Just one more shot of Mom! OK, cue the baby!"

Ours, you see, is a developing civilization.

Perhaps you are impressed with pilots who stealth-bomb unsuspecting parts of America. Like Texas.

You know, the pilots who frighten horses while delivering an explosive new device to American soil--the Motorola Droid. Well, perhaps, then, you are male.

Somehow, viewing Motorola's televisual covert activities leaves one with a troubling instinct that the Droid brand will be somewhat different from the iPhone. Somewhat more male, to be precise.

One of Apple's most brilliant and constant talents is to make its brand and the design of its products appeal equally to both sexes.

Apple's music is often sung by women. Apple's humor, in, for example, the "Get a Mac" spots, is the sort of subtle digging that makes men feel clever and women feel relieved that they don't have to spend even 30 seconds with a belching oaf.

In many ways, the Apple brand is the perfect toy boy. Looks young and lovely, lots of wit and versatility, and has just the right amount of muscle for other men to admire.

The Droid, on the other hand, seems to be setting itself up to be the peculiar love child of a union between Chuck Liddell and The Rock. It's strapping on its parachute and it's ready to thrust a fist in your face and a bomb into your back garden.

Is it any wonder that the cowboy in this new Droid spot stammers: "What in the world is that?"--as if he has just set eyes on an alien monstrosity whose GPS is on the blink?

The Droid, so far, is so male that the horses have bolted and the natives are in shock. It's a pillager that has already gouged vast craters out of American soil.

Will women gravitate to its charms? Or is Motorola carving an image for the Droid that consists entirely of chewing tobacco and gunning to the top?

Can a boy's toy take on the toy boy? Can one possibly wait until Friday?