Enter page 2 of the Diaries of our Mad Black Techie, Coffie

I remember the first time I laid eyes on it. I had popped into the living room to say hi to the old folks, perhaps even to see if I could convince them to change the channel to anything other than local, melodramatic talk shows. That was when I saw it sitting on the coffee table by my father’s side: the dumsor phone.

“What in the darkest reaches of hell is that?” I asked.

The dumsor phone is…there’s no way to mince this…atrocious. You may recognize it from the last time you were in the middle of a zombie apocalypse and had to clock an undead in the head with a heavy object.

The dumsor phone is an old-school ‘mobile’ telecommunications device. Old-school meaning it is built to make calls, stay powered and survive hundred foot drops. It’s large, and bulky, and black (it comes in one colour guys). It looks like the device you borrowed from a stranger that one time your time machine malfunctioned and left you stranded in 1995. And sure, it’s multi-functional, but not in the way that smart phones are. It’s like the smart phone that could never fully commit. Read more

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