My 18 year old son walked by the other day, texting feverishly on his stupid little Apple IPhone. My moment in the sun had arrived.
   "What are you doing?" I asked, knowing full well what he was doing.
   He shrugged. "Nothing."
   I nodded at his precious IPhone, which is never more than two feet from him. "You really like that phone, donít you?"
   "Yeah, why?"
   "Itís got everything, doesnít it?" I said.
   "I guess." He was getting more suspicious. "Why?"
   The time had come. I pulled my NEW Apple IPhone from my pocket and waved it across his obsolete face. "Ha!" I cried. "You donít even have 3G!"
   As usual, he looked at me like I was wacko. "You donít even know what 3G is," he said.
   "So what?" I answered. "I know Iíve got it and you donít. I am hereby more technologically advanced than you."
   He tried to grab my spanking new 3G Apple IPhone from my hand. "Why would you buy a new phone?" he asked. "Youíll never use any of its features. Why donít you just give it to someone who will appreciate it, like me?"
   Fat chance. This was the first time in my life I was on the cutting edge of technology, and I wasnít about to give it up. All I had to do now was figure out how to use it.
   I began by practicing my two-thumb no-look texting on the touch screen keyboard. I quickly typed an obnoxious message to my son, stating "My phone is better than your phone. Ha Ha Ha." Unfortunately, it read as follows: "Nt pjonw it bwttet yham youe phumr. Gaga hy." Immediately, I realized that the Apple IPhone was not designed for fat-fingered guys like me.
   I slowed it down a bit, using one finger and correcting my mistakes. After about three minutes, the sentence was complete and I sent it to my son. He had fallen asleep on the couch while waiting.
   I never liked texting, anyway. I was more interested in the other functions, like checking the weather around the world. I figured that one out pretty easily.
  "Want to know the current temperature in Montreal?" I asked my wife a little later in the evening as she walked by.
  Clearly, she was jealous. Not only did she not have an old IPhone, like my son, but she was still using a regular antiquated cell phone, just like the cavemen. The only thing she could do was make calls and answer them. What a joke.
   "I put you on my Ďfavoritesí list," I replied. "But if you donít improve your attitude regarding my new 3G IPhone, I may have to take you off and put you back with the regular Ďcontacts.í"
  "You donít even know what 3G is," she replied.
  "I know it makes my IPhone faster than anybody elseís," I replied.
  This perked my son up. "OK, Iíll race you. Letís see who can connect to the internet faster."
  "I can connect to the internet?" I asked, incredulous. "How do I do that?"
  Naturally, he was disgusted, but he showed me how to do it. Then he pulled out his IPhone and challenged me to a race. The first phone to connect to would win. We were putting 3G technology, whatever that is, to the test.
  It wasnít exactly fair. He had already made the connection while I was still typing, and correcting, then typing, then correcting, My fat little fingers were quite the liability.
  Once I got the website typed in, we started the race again. Sure enough, my 3G technology beat his obsolete old IPhone by at least five seconds. He was crushed.
   "Loser, loser, loser," I bellowed in triumph. "Youíre never going to make it in the world with that old thing."
   His eyes grew wide with envy, and I could see he had a hunger for my 3G technology. I was witnessing youthful ambition, and that was a good thing.
   And as for you," I added, motioning to my wife, "you might as well retire to the garden. Your time has long passed you by."
   Iím sure that didnít go over well, but I was too busy checking the weather in Dubai to really notice.

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