I have an iPhone, but I don’t call it an iPhone. I referred to the Fuck Ass Piece of Shit. It’s because the phone is a Fuck Ass Piece of Shit. In fact, my view of smartphones is that they are obnoxious slabs of glass and plastic that ruin my day and irritate the shit out of me.

Yes, I understand that we all need to “keep in touch.” Fifteen years ago, I kept in touch via landlines and pay phones (setting up drug deals via public phones used to be so easy. Now, try and find one.)

Today, you have email, calendar appointments, social media shit, all stuff that is Pavlov dogged into your skull. All of these ways of communicating suck, because 99% of the information you get is boring and in no way could shape your day. Unless it’s an email from that Russian guy who said he could move some weight for you. It takes forever to decode those emails.

And why in the holy fuck of fucks do we need to text each other? Didn’t we create the telephone to eliminate having to type out fucking messages? Every time I see some dufus in a movie tapping out something via Morse code, I say, “Jesus, that shit would drive me insane.” But we do it every day. Teenagers and millennials caught texting should be thrown into nuclear waste storage facilities until their bones glow brighter than the Northern Lights.

We all have that friend, or spouse, who texts us while we’re driving and then calls and says, “Did you get my text?” No, I didn’t. Why did you just send a text and then follow up with a phone call when a phone call in THE FIRST FUCKING PLACE would have sufficed? You did this because you are a wet brain piece of shit. I hate you.

Also, group texts. The number one most annoying thing in my life. When I get one of these I want to tie down every fucker on the thread and kill each of them with a fondue fork, make fondue using their brains, lungs, and kidneys and serve it up in their hollowed skull. The leftovers I will donate to a local animal shelter.

Smart phones cause more accidents than getting road head from Lindsay Lohan. I see it every fucking day. I drive through the city, and if I’m not dodging bullets, assholes on dirt bikes, or phlegm spewing Ed Reed look a likes, I see people walking and looking at their phones. I want them to fall down a steam grate and get parboiled. These people need to be herded up and dumped into the ocean.

Finally, why do people need to wear white headphones while they drive? There is no way there are that many cars on the road with broken stereos. Not only is their attention not on the road, they can’t fucking hear me beeping. And I beep a lot.

The ultimate irony is that I can’t function without my phone. I need to keep in touch with clients who ask brain numbering questions like: “We kicked off our marketing campaign yesterday, why don’t I have a thousand phone calls today?” I need to answer Mrs. Fozz’s queries about where I am, where the kids are, and why I let them play violent video games. (Also, I need to browse Reddit for pictures of Allison Brie, but that’s beside the point. Actually it is the point of having a smartphone.)

Fuck you, you Fuck Ass Piece of Shit. I can get a new one of you in two months. Yeah, that will work out great.

FIFTEEN MINUTES AFTER COMPLETING THIS POST:
FOZZ: “What? What?!? I can’t hear you, Mrs. Fozz! I can’t – no I’m NOT drinking, I’m in the office – NO I CAN’T FUCKING HEAR! I WAS NOT CURSING AT YOU!

[Throws phone down the steps. Picks phone up, disgusted that it’s not broken. Notice that the $70 battery case is cracked.]

On A Lighter Note
(Each post will end with an event that made me happy.)
None of the steamed crabs I had for Father’s Day had bullet holes in them.