Art By Hank Gurdifeff

Art By Hank Gurdifeff

I didn't feel like going to Goodwill this week. Take that, Kill Pretty.

I did, however, finally get an iPhone. It's a 4s, let's not get ahead of ourselves, but it is a step in the right direction. Or so I'm told. It's not exactly an old, vintage piece of technology, but all you teeny-bopper Beliebers might say so, since they're on the iPhone 1,476 by now.

I'm slowly succumbing to the evils of the new world: pocket-sized computers, text messaging, sexting, social media and tweeting or twatting, the internet. Now I can send dick pics and slice fruit with a samurai sword while I shit. These are the perks of upgrading to the modern technologies. Everybody in my address book get ready. It's coming (no pun intended).

Up until recently, I've had a Razr flip phone. And it was perfect. I miss it already. It did everything it was supposed to do: act as a fucking phone. It made calls and that's all I needed it for. Because it is a phone after all, the whole sense of the idea in its purest form.

But now, I've been toying around with this Uber thing, which is apparently pronounced, "Oohbah," because DUIs are so passé. It's all right, I guess, in the sense that in just the push of a button a car is here to pick you up and take you wherever you need to go, no cash exchange. Another way to spend money without even seeing it. But before I get into a whole spiel and become a modern-technology critic (we’ll save that job for the assholes in the Apple store), I'm gonna stop there. And go slice some fruit. While I shit.