Digital victimmania

Digital victimmania is a phrase I had to invent as an appropriate term to explain a recent mistake for an upgrade to a new, what turned out to be, an upgrade to an infamously famous iPhoney. 

It has been a digital disaster for my wife and me, requiring electronic alliteration and a mess of a stress into an excess of monetary distress. An iPhoney will always argue, constantly suggesting we need things like three dozen casket pillows and 12 dozen shoes, paired only for a left foot in different sizes, free vacations in out-of-the-way places like Chinese garbage dumps and diet drinks made of a secret exotica-extract of grasshopper protein, no sugars added. A diet by gag.

The new iPhoney appears to be genetically compromised by the worthless propaganda of an alien origin. We have made numerous attempts to talk with iPhoney reps, who seem to speak only a mélange of distorted, slurred sounds, dangling modifiers and attempted spoken punctuation, all abundantly in need of intelligent editing to stop the comma dramas and bring them to a certain bored-to-death coma.

Our cell phones are tied to a contract of a length that is unworthy of praise, except as in cussing. But the reps didn’t have a vocabulary sufficient to understand anything we would have cussed; in degraded English, we choose not to cuss. I extrapolated in verbiage with restraint, holding my breath until I thought I would faint. 

Our iPhoney deserves only a hammered and dumpster fate. Mine is now serving a pocket prison sentence, not allowed to make sounds or sing, use ringtones or vibrations or speak. 

Do not call me, please. My addiction recovery is not yet complete, and I may accidentally be rude. I hope someone will invent a user-friendly Normal IQPhone or a high-IQ Flip for a flop phone, and that it happens very soon, so I do not wander any longer in this digital wilderness of beeps, tweets, updates, cloud, drooling Bluetooth, 1G, 2G, 2.5G, 3G, 4G, 5G, A-GPS, Air time, GPRS, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera and amen.