Technically Incorrect

Many people I know are frightfully attached to their iPhones. They treat them as if they were a peculiar and exotic lover, one they can hardly believe they have managed to seduce.

The finely calibrated minds at Strand Consult have taken this analysis to a particularly simple conclusion: iPhone users are, the consultants say, really quite nuts.

The Strand thinkers released an opinion entitled "How will psychologists describe the iPhone syndrome in the future?." It focuses on the sorts of people who buy into Apple's great success.

Here's a flavor of the somewhat-skeptical nature of Strand's feelings: "Apple has launched a beautiful phone with a fantastic user interface that has had a number of technological shortcomings that many iPhone users have accepted and defended, despite those shortcomings resulting in limitations in iPhone users' daily lives."

The consultants' likening of iPhone buyers to kidnapped hostages may raise more than the eyebrows of many an Apple fanboy (fanperson?). Indeed, it already has the Mac world aflutter.

Is this evidence of an iPhone hypnotising a user?

(Credit: CC Gonzalo Baeza Hernandez/Flickr)

"When we examine the iPhone users' arguments defending the iPhone, it reminds us of the famous Stockholm Syndrome--a term invented by psychologists after a hostage drama in Stockholm. Here, hostages reacted to the psychological pressure they were experiencing by defending the people that had held them hostage for six days," Strand declared.

The implication is surely that Apple has mugged millions of people with its beauty, dragged them off to a very dark cellar in some barren land, turned them into slightly bonkers Barbarellas, and then recruited them as soldiers for the cause.

This is the sort of thing of which the Church of Scientology is normally accused. But for some strange reason, it's a rather chilling but pleasant shower to read something that isn't mere worship.

Strand claims that it closely analyzes the financials of mobile operators. And if you also happen to order its wonderfully free report "The Moment of Truth, a portrait of the iPhone," you will discover the 10 great myths about the iPhone. Here are just two: it doesn't attract new business for operators, and it is not a technologically advanced mobile phone.

I know you'll be rushing to read these fine tracts, and I feel sure that a couple of you might wish to drop Strand Consult a note. To encourage you a little, I'll warn you that Strand also seems to believe that some of you Apple customers are, well, liars.

The consultants put it quite sweetly: "In reality, the iPhone is surrounded by a multitude of people, media, and companies that are happy to bend the truth to defend the product they have purchased from Apple."

Apple customers are liars? The media too? Surely not.

In these modern times, when people hear the word "beard," they sometimes think of someone being used, perhaps unknowingly, to cover up the sexual orientation of a friend.

However, once anyone under 20 sees this series of public-service announcements from LG, in which James Lipton from "Inside the Actor's Studio" attempts to be a good companion to troubled teens, they will, hopefully, think "beard" before sending a text featuring a picture of their private parts.

You see, LG did a little research and discovered that nasty or sexually explicit texts weren't being sent so much by bullies, but by "tabloid teens." You know, those who might have helped Yahoo's business enormously by trying to find every last piece of information about Tiger Woods' alleged missteps with various misses.

Such teens believe that gossip is their source of influence and social power, but it doesn't necessarily yield the finest of results. Which is why LG would like the rapidly typing youth to "give it a ponder" before they send, as Lipton so sweetly describes it in one of the spots, "a pic of your junk."

In an attempt to help, Lipton gives them his beard for them to stroke. On their own faces, you understand.

The spots have a tough task, as they are asking kids to don Lipton's famously ephemeral facial hair in order to adopt a little temporary maturity at a moment of some excitement.

But LG is still determined to knock a little sense into these people wherever it can get to them.

The rather lovely Give It A Ponder Facebook page has delightful entries from, for example, a lady called Lynn Hood who says, "Oh, that I had a beard this magnificent to stroke while I ponder." And, the GiveItAPonder.com site offers even more amusement.

U.S. teens together apparently send 20,000 texts per second, so one can only hope that this delightful campaign puts at least a tiny dent into their craniums.

Once it makes some intelligent inroads with teens, perhaps LG might try to influence the poor judgment of politicians. Perhaps, indeed, LG could get the folks on Capitol Hill to text us their thoughts and receive our approval before they ever articulate a single word in public. Just a thought.

Is there some etiquette one should follow when receiving a spam text?

Should one at least read it before erasing it? Should one even attempt a polite reply, even if it is in the negative? Or should one sue the rotten behind off the ungracious crasher who deigns to invade one's cell phone?

If your name is Elizabeth Espinal, you gravitate toward the latter option.

According to the Miami New Times, Espinal was inconvenienced by that slightly creepy King texting her with what she describes in her suit as "cryptic" messages.

You know the kind of thing, enticements to nosh on a splendidly nourishing Burger King steakhouse burger. Or entreaties to please, please try a Mocha BK Iced Coffee. After the first, Espinal allegedly texted back "stop." But the King kept creeping electronically into her life certain, it seems, of winning her over. At least twice more, apparently.

Unimpressed by his wooing her with his "perfect mix of rich coffee and chocolate syrup," Espinal slapped him with what she hopes is a perfect mix of a lawsuit.

The New Times suggested that within Espinal's veritable onion ring of pain lay the idea that she was "caused actual harm" and was "subjected to aggravation."

(Credit: CC Ted Murphy/Flickr)

Now, we all have our own opinions of fast food. Yes, the purchasing process can be aggravating, and yes, very occasionally our digestion can slip a cog in its delicate machinations, resulting in some temporary harm. But could this all be worth $5 million?

Oh, perhaps I didn't mention, but Espinal is allegedly looking for 5 million whopping dollars. Perhaps the King would merely have to sell a couple of his crowns, but still, it does seem like a lot of money.

She appears to have filed the suit in April of this year as a class action and it has not yet received certification. Her no doubt clever lawyers are relying on Section 47 of the Telephone Consumer Protection Act, which "prohibits unsolicited voice and text calls to cellular phones."

I understand that Espinal might be on the blistered side of peeved to discover she had to pay for the texts that Burger King sent, even though they might have contained patently irresistible enticements.

But $5 million suggests either that she is a very sensitive human being, or that she believes that the only way to deal with an alleged harasser is to harass them right back.

What if she were to somehow win? Might we all be able to sue those who text us with unwanted inducements? I'm not thinking merely of AT&T, which keeps sending me texts with numbers and concepts far beyond my meager rationality.

What about those slightly odd people we meet at parties and networking events? You know, the insurance salesmen to whom we regret giving our phone number, our business cards, even our names--the ones who contact us suggesting a meeting and then contact us three more times. Might we be able to take them for a few million?

I think I'll text my lawyer and ask him.

You may need a little Xanax after observing this. Equally, you may never want to take any drugs ever again.

For Quentin Tarantino, he who makes movies that contain blood, gore, and many homages to Asia, recently shot a TV spot for the Japanese cell phone company Softbank.

As well as an astute grasp of Japanese, you need to have a very firm grasp of existential philosophy to fully appreciate this spot. Without an astute grasp of Japanese, I can tell you that this is the latest in a series of spots that features the White family.

Just to give you a sense of how this ad follows in the rambunctiously absurd tradition of much Japanese advertising, the regular members of the White Family are Me, a Softbank saleswoman, Older Brother, played by American actor Dante Carter, Mom, and Otousan, the talking dog who is, in fact, Dad. (Yes, I am entirely sober.)

I will leave you to create your own version of what is going on here. Though, to my untrained, pained eyes, the story seems to concern Tarantino, whose character is Uncle Tara-chan, and his parading a live dog as some kind of competition to Otousan, the plastic pooch who is, in fact, Dad.

The blond lady near the end of the spot appears to be playing Tara-chan's wife and, as so many wives of famous Americans these days, she doesn't appear happy with her husband. Though she is screaming down the phone rather than wielding a three-iron.

I have embedded the short and long versions of the ad, just because the long version doesn't seem to make the short version any more understandable. Several people made similar comments about Tarantino's "Kill Bill" series.

However, Brad Pitt has already appeared in Softbank spots, so one must suppose that the most understandable part of Tarantino's performance is the fee.

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.

Ever wander into one of those Verizon or AT&T stores, attempt to have a conversation with one of the smartly dressed salespeople, and whisper to yourself, "What kind of emotionally awkward humans end up working in a place like this?"

Well, I have good news for you.

Ricky Gervais, who made David Brent perhaps the most painfully sympathetic character in modern television in the original BBC version of "The Office," has been asking himself the very same question. "Phone Shop" a new British sitcom, enjoys Gervais as its script editor (he reportedly took one look at the idea and volunteered his involvement). The pilot airs Friday evening on Channel 4.

"Phone Shop" will explore the life of salespeople in a soul-sucking mall cell phone shop.

(Credit: Channel 4)

Unlike "The Office," which gained existential pleasure from the old-world business of paper manufacture, "Phone Shop" is set in a mall cell phone store.

The pilot episode follows the troubles experienced by trainee salesman Christopher, who has to sell a cell phone by 6 p.m. as part of his one-day trial.

Clearly this series will reside in the emotional halfway house that has just two difficult residents--comedy and tragedy. And one wonders just what impression will be left by the arduous task of pushing yet more portable technology on a populace that bristles with sensory overload.

I am deeply concerned that the cell phone business will not come out so beautifully in "Phone Shop."

You see, The Independent quoted Angela Jain, head of the E4 Channel, which has bought the series. And beneath her words I sense a little cackling: "Everyone's got a mobile phone and has had some encounter in a phone shop. It's also about those difficult dead-end jobs that everyone has at least once in their lives."

So the Droid and the iPhone are being pushed by people in dead-end jobs? What has become of our brave new, smartphoned world?

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.

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?