Cali, I wholeheartedly agree with your sentiments. I, too, was enthralled by the iPhones for the longest time. My journey began as an impressionable teenager, buying the original iPhone 2G for the whopping $600 it first retailed at (what can I say? It was the coolest device I had ever seen). It was quite literally perfect - I remember the night I got it quite vividly, buying off of a really nice man from Craigslist, with the full box + original gift bag.
Sadly, my tryst was not to last. I was relaxing, poolside, at a friends BBQ when my classmate pushed me into the pool as a harmless (or so I thought) prank. When I emerged, cursing jovially, I immediately felt the cold embrace of adrenaline strike my chest - my precious iPhone was in my pocket!!!! The horror.
I attempted everything - hairdrying it, putting it in a bag of rice, etc., to no avail. Fortunately, I had rich friends, and the one who pushed me in shared in my remorse (although I must say to a much lesser degree), and gave me $200 so that I may replace it. But how could I replace perfection? Is it virtuous to even think it possible to do so? So, with heart (and hat) in hand, I proceeded to the Apple Store, and purchased the iPhone 3G - and my passion was reignited! Such rapture! My original iPhone had emerged through the fires of Perdition; reborn, as a phoenix blazing on AT&T's (then) fast 3G network.
Our joy, too, was long and prosperous. Jailbreaks, dates, parties, Prom, Graduation, Freshman year of college, my 3G served me faithfully, without complaint or punishment - but it was not to be! My own ambition, nay!, greed for greater speed, greater glory, greater camera options drove me to encourage my mother to upgrade to the 3G, so that I may snatch her newborn away, replacing it with my dignified, esteemed, "vintage" model.
The universe, of course, sought its unstoppable revenge - karma. Scarcely two months passed before my phone began dying irreparably. Fearing my jailbreak had unleashed some heretofore unknown virus upon my child, I trawled the interweb for any signs of hope, any spark, or glimmer of salvation. DFU mode, recovery mode, full restore, restore without SIM card, everything was tried - and utterly failed. So, again, heart (and hat) in hand, I proceeded to the Apple Store, where those stalwart defenders of justice (most improperly named "Geniuses") threw my child into the great maw of the stock room, diagnosing its affliction as "hardware defect". Oh how a parent never wishes to hear those words uttered.
But rejoice, good friends, as my child was replaced - nay!, cloned and given back to me, healthier than ever before, until the present.
We are in troubled times, good sirs and madames. Troubled times indeed. There is relentless persecution of all that is good, and just, and those that originally encouraged us to "think different" are now spell- and grammar-checking that to "think differently"!
Yes, I do refer to Master Jobs and the remainder of his ilk. Do they think themselves gods, to control us so? Or merely the invisible pupper-masters, silently controlling the strings - encouraging us to dance this way, then that? No, I will not stand for this, not as long as I hold breath in my body, and money in my wallet enough to switch.
For there truly are greener pastures just across the double rainbows.
Now throughout all of this ordeal, notice, friends, that I never place any blame upon my sweet, sweet iChildren - for, why should we cast down the children if the parents are responsible for the madness? Nay, we shall not encourage castes in this world. My devices have served me with the utmost honor, respect, and obedience, even when I used them to research those that will replace them (this is not to say, however, that if Master Jobs had the power to stop them from doing so, he would not).
So, fair iPhones, I must bid you adieu. I shall miss your utter simplicity, as well as the amazing customization you offered me after I broke you free from your walled garden. Think not that you are being replaced - nothing could be further from the truth. Know that you are afforded the privilege of retiring with your dignity, and my love for you, intact. I fear that if I must hold on to you any longer, Master Jobs' tightening fingers of control, coupled with AT&T's mediocre-at-best service, I will grow to utterly resent, and, I shudder to think, hate you.
Enjoy the pastures in your idyllic meadows, I shall call upon you, especially when I require an unlocked phone in my travels. Until then, au revoir, and sleep well.
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