Perhaps you have already become used to Verizon's Droid tossing names at the iPhone like an 8-year-old boy behind his teacher's back.
However, the latest ill feelings directed at Apple's little cutey seem beyond even anything heard in an elementary school.
In a new TV spot, Droid asks an important question: "Should a phone be pretty?" To which many sane people would say "yes," and many emotionally challenged beings made of metal would say, "Huh? What?"
Its answer--the latest in its presentation of the Droid as a robotphone--is to hurl metallic-tasting custard pies as if the Apple store was a state fair.
"Should it be a tiara-wearing digitally clueless beauty pageant queen?" belches the ad's rhetoric, clearly referencing the iPhone, while wrapping the pie in a question.
I know many Socratically-inclined Apple fanpersons will object to the notion that beauty is only skin deep. But they will surely rail against the mere suggestion that the iPhone is digitally clueless.
Of course, this ad implicitly suggests that the Droid is, well, one of Cinderella's sisters, which might well affect its abilities to entice certain sectors of the populace.
Actually, the suggestion is more than implicit, for the deeply hirsute voice declares: "Is it a precious porcelain figurine of a phone? In truth, no."
So do you wait for a design that is pretty and is, as this ad so elegantly puts it, "racehorse duct-taped to a Scud missile fast" or do you have to compromise?
I know they say you can't have everything in life, but surely there must be some very attractive engineer out there who can give us everything in a few square inches of cell phone.
(Credit:
Phandroid)
Oh, you knew someone was going to do this. So let's just get it over with. And though some might think of this as a battle between the Droid and the iPhone for the nation's morality, let's be open-source about it: someone's trying to make a lot of money from cell phone porn.
A company with the obtusely childlike name MiKandi has launched a mobile app store that will exclusively cater to adults whose brain food consists of content that reflects their age. Yes, the sort of stuff some prefer to refer to as porn.
MiKandi's publicity material naturally avoids this term, referring to the more PC phrase "adult only." However, there is a little kink in its offering. According to Android fanperson site, Phandroid, the MiKandi Market apps only work with Android phones and not with Apple's more morally minded handsets.
Cupertino steadfastly sticks to its policy of refusing to allow apps filled purely with adult content, though some might dispute whether its definition of "adult" isn't occasionally a little idiosyncratic.
Not for a moment would one suggest that Verizon or Motorola or the deities at Google are necessarily in favor of porn apps. However, MiKandi is attempting to take advantage of the fact that the Android system is more open than the iPhone's.
So while the Android Market itself doesn't offer porn, nothing on your Droid phone prevents you from using MiKandi's services. The wise people at Phandroid do, however, offer stern warnings about MiKandi's workings.
Despite attempting to use MiKandi's services, purely for scientific purposes, Phandroid failed to actually secure access to any mature content. Remember, children, this sort of thing will always be a somewhat risky business.
In its attempt to redress the imbalance created by the latest Verizon ads, AT&T has hurriedly cobbled together not just one Luke Wilson ad, but several.
Curiously, one ad features precisely the same strategy as that of the latest iPhone advertising: reminding those who might still be on the fence, on the phone, or even on the lam that you can't simultaneously enjoy voice and Web surfing on the Verizon 3G network--and hence on the Motorola Droid.
So here we have Luke Wilson, still looking a little peaky and dressed in a difficult brown. Behind Luke, we have a man trying to use two phones (by implication, Verizon phones) to perform a task the iPhone will manage alone.
Some might find it entertaining that as his friend attempts to download something on one of his Verizon phones, he complains that it's all going rather slowly. Others might find this both true and funny.
AT&T hasn't merely paid Wilson a little more than 3G to make this comparison. Someone, somewhere, has, perhaps even wisely, said, "We need a map to counter Verizon's map."
So the writers hit upon the idea of a two-part extravaganza (this already aired during Tuesday's "Dancing with the Stars" finale), in which Wilson produces postcards from all the different American towns that really do--no, really--have AT&T 3G coverage.
Wilson says his job is to set the record straight, with respect to Verizon's vicious besmirching of the AT&T network. He tries his best. He tells us that AT&T covers 97 percent of all Americans--yes, 300 million people.
The AT&T map also seems far more filled-in and far more colorful than it appears in Verizon spots, though one suspects that local word of mouth might be rather stronger, in this instance, than national advertising. If you live in Spokane, Wash., for example, and you know someone there who has spotty 3G service on a particular network, that is far more powerful an influencer than any number of Wilson's postcards or Verizon's barbs.
It's enlightening, however, to discover that Wilson once dated someone in Tulsa, Okla., and it didn't work out. Did she catch him simultaneously calling and Web surfing? Perhaps we will never know.
It seems that Apple doesn't respect Verizon's Droid phone quite as much as it does Microsoft's PCs. But two new ad spots, launching Monday evening, come as close as Apple has done thus far to directly attack the allegedly do-it-all robotphone.
The Droid, you see, went after Apple in its teaser campaign with some telling remarks and the hearty claim that Droid does what the iPhone doesn't. Then Verizon decided it would be fun to knock both the iPhone and AT&T's spotty 3G coverage with its "Misfit Toys" concept.
AT&T has already replied by hustling a hastily-dressed Luke Wilson into directing a few resentful pins at Verizon's effigy. However these new ads, while entirely in keeping with the iPhone tone and style, end with a line that expressly assaults the doings of Droid--or rather, its alleged non-doings.
Both ads focus on the iPhone's ability to allow you to use voice and data capabilities simultaneously over the AT&T network. By asking gently at the end of each spot "Can your phone and your network do that?" Apple is bursting what it sees as the inflated stealth bombing that accompanied the launch of the Droid.
Apple iPhone Ad - Did You See My Email? from Arik Hesseldahl on Vimeo.
Apple iPhone Ad - What Time's The Movie? from Arik Hesseldahl on Vimeo.
These ads don't mention the Droid or Verizon by name. But the fact that Apple has decided to address its rivals, however obliquely, suggests that one can look forward to more accusations, more bickering, and more attempted one-upmanship.
'Tis the season of goodwill, after all.
When you've lost the first round in your case against Verizon's persistent and persuasive mockery, who do you turn to?
Luke Wilson, that's who. After all, he starred in "Legally Blonde" and, well, "Jackass Number Two."
Actually, Wilson is lovable. Truly lovable. Perhaps if he'd dressed down a little and Justin Long had suffered an interminable hiatus hernia, Wilson might have got the part of Mac, the Microsoft Mocker.
Instead, he has the slightly more difficult task of persuading the folks who adored him in "Old School" that AT&T's 3G will serve them well on the 3.10 to Yuma.
The creators didn't give him much of a script, as I suspect they wrote it a couple of lattes and a shot of bourbon before this opus was filmed in what looks like the empty space above Victoria's Secret in Santa Monica, Calif.
Luke is forced to stand before a board and prove that AT&T has the fastest 3G network, lets you talk and surf at the same time, and offers you more apps that feature people making strange noises, half-clothed women, and animals that smile when you touch the screen. (Disclosure: slight exaggeration)
Sadly, it all looks a little analog. Luke looks as if he'd prefer to be surfing, as he really doesn't have the tools to make you believe what he's being paid to say.
His hair looks as if it's been hurriedly greased with Czech lard and his face offers a certain hemorrhoidal mien as it offers a little jape at the end of the spot. Yes, a jape about Verizon beginning with "V" and AT&T not beginning with "V." That rumbling you can hear is the collective guffaw from Verizon Central.
Verizon is hurting AT&T with its clinical, delighted unpleasantness. And I fear that before "Legally Blonde 2: AT&T's Revenge" can possibly be effective, the iPhone carrier needs to dramatize its argument rather better than the gospel according to Luke.
The thing about the finest of soap operas is that they must create conflict in order to inspire truly dramatic love.
This is why I was rendered temporarily cynical by a Verizon print ad in a recent edition of Sports Illustrated. The ad was for the Droid. The words were directed at the sensitive regions of the iPhone. But the sentiment seemed to refer to a slightly larger picture.
In case you have not seen this particular work of art, it is headlined "This is a world of 'Nope', Nuh-Uh' and 'Sorry, Charlie.'" The first line gives a clue that perhaps this is not just another anti-iPhone ad. "A world of smiling denial," it begins.
But the next line offers a shudder with every consonant: "Petty tyrannies have made their way into our cell phones."
Smiling denials. Petty tyrannies. Are they talking about a competing cell phone or perhaps a certain individual at the competing company?
(Credit:
Chris Matyszczyk)
This is not the rather charming exile of the iPhone to the Island of Misfit Toys. This isn't even the rather teenage assertion of the iPhone's alleged "semi-functional, giggling-brat-vanity".
This print ad strains to mask its truly adult feelings and fails in quite a spectacularly positive way with the phrase: "these arrogant little devices."
Alrighty, now. The use of the word "arrogant" makes this a deeply personal work that might have been inspired, well, by whom? By someone who might have been personally involved in Verizon's negotiations to secure Apple's iPhone, perhaps?
The hearty phraseology of the Droid campaign is admirable, in the way that the Ultimate Fighting Championship can, I am told, sometimes be admirable.
However, one wonders whether Verizon's confidence in its wireless coverage is making the company feel far more assured in its ability to soon offer the iPhone as well as BlackBerry and Droid products.
Is Verizon suggesting that Apple needs Verizon's coverage just as much as Verizon needs the iPhone's cachet? Is it suggesting that the alleged smiling denials, arrogance, and petty tyrannies cannot prevent a slightly altered world order?
The upliftingly personal nature of this ad might just portend a new, big love between Apple and Verizon in just a couple of episodes. A 4G Verizon iPhone? There won't be a dry eye in the house.
Early on Monday, we learned that the new Verizon Droid does, indeed, swap "semi-functional, giggling-brat-vanity for a bare knuckle bucket of does."
Now, we have the visual evidence. It's evidence a defense attorney would rather enjoy.
The Droid is, apparently, not a smartphone at all. It is a robotphone, according to Verizon's latest TV ad. Yes, it punches its way through steel walls and crushes rocks. Which, I believe, is known in English classes as poetry.
The lyrical content is only heightened when the giggling-brat-vanity words are uttered by an announcer who sounds like he had a previous career as an enforcer with one of the Gambino bambinos.
As the contempt drips from his lips, we see various iPhone-like devices all blinged out in pinks and purples and sequins. They look like purses.
And the subtext, which is about as covert as a right cross from an inebriated wedding crasher, is that the Droid is for boys and the iPhone is for fans of "Project Runway" and "The Real Housewives of Orange County."
Yes, your Droid is your Mixed Martial Arts-lovin', bone-crushin' robot that's going to turn you into a man. And that's what all boys want, right?
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."
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?
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.
"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?
