What did I miss

Did you miss me? Just kidding. It's a rhetorical question. I know the answer.

I missed you too. What I didn’t miss was any of the social media I’ve been on a cleanse from for the last three weeks.

Alright, maybe I missed it a little.

But you'll be glad to hear I went against all my only child instincts, the ones that scream I can do what I want because the world revolves around me, and stayed strong. I didn’t cave to temptation. I kept my scrolling thumbs otherwise engaged with chores like typing, turning pages on actual books (I’ll never use an e-reader, don’t get me started) and of course the remote since I used some of my reclaimed time to binge The Sopranos, start The Rehearsal and finish the latest season of For All Mankind.

Now that I've tried this little experiment, I’ve learned I can live quite well without Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. Having said that, there are events in the world I do want to comment on in real time. Like the can't-happen-fast-enough inevitable indictment of Cadet Bone Spurs.

So I’m moving on to what I like to call the second phase of my cleanse. Behavior modification.

While moderation and I have never made good roommates—Breaking Bad sixteen times, Springsteen over 70 times, The Godfather a gazillion times, the craps tables at the Venetian more times than I remember, Disney's Tower of Terror fourteen times in a row—I’m going to give it another go.

My new regimen, like brushing my teeth and walking the dogs, will be twice a day. Once in the morning, and again in the early evening, a few hours before bedtime to make sure I'm still not seeing the iPhone screen on the inside of my eyelids when I close my eyes to hitch a ride to dreamland (another thing I can use my thumbs for).

I’ll also be challenging myself to limit my two daily scrolls to fifteen minutes each, which to my new way of thinking gives me more than enough time to read through new posts, wish everyone happy birthday and anniversary, reply to all with the clever snark, razor-sharp wit, keen insight and borrowed memes you’ve come to expect from me. Then I'll sign off.

That’s right. To make it just a little less appealing, I'll be logging in and out each and every time I go online. No point in leaving the apps open and tempting temptation.

And if I'm bored during the hours in between—say waiting in a doctor's office, standing in line or wondering why curbside service is taking so damn long to bring my burger out to the car—I'll just find something else to occupy my time.

So it's official. Starting today, I’m back baby. Go ahead, hit the smiley emoji, read the hashtags and AMA.

Hitting the target

You're probably already familiar with targeted marketing. You might have also heard it referred to by that other name the monumental douchewhistles running Facebook and Instagram give it: relevant ads. You know, ads you'll appreciate interrupting your otherwise perfectly good scroll.

These are those creepy ads that appear within five minutes of you talking about something that interests you while you're in earshot of your iPhone, Alexa, Google Home, Apple Homepod or other digital assistant. Devices that listen in on your conversations even though at the same time the companies that make them are paying for ads and running interviews everywhere telling you about their committment to privacy.

I hate 'em as much as the next guy. But I have to admit, I'm at a meth-laced crossroads when it comes to this little number that popped up in my inbox.

If you've followed this blog at all, and with all that pandemic time on your hands you have no excuse if you haven't, you know I'm a fairly hardcore Breaking Bad fan. The fact I've binged it fourteen times was probably your first clue.

So a few months ago when Omaze was runnng a contest to have Bryan Cranston and Aaron Paul cook breakfast for me and a friend in the RV they cooked meth in on the show, it's safe to assume I entered. Several times. And then a few more for good measure.

But did I win? No I did not. Apparently Elissa and Heidi got to enjoy the breakfast that was meant for me. Apparently they forgot I am the one who knocks!

I may have gotten off track here. Anyway those nice folks (algorithims) at Omaze remembered and sent me the personalized invite to their latest contest to spend a little time with Walt and Jesse.

Now I'm not naive enough to think I'm the only one who got the invite. I'm sure everyone who entered the breakfast contest (and lost to Elissa and Heidi) received one as well. But it does make me reconsider my take on targeted marketing.

I guess the bottom line is I'm good with it as long as the ads are Breaking Bad, Springsteen or sushi related.

Camera ready

Now that we're seven months into the new Zoomconomy™, there are more things to think about than ever before.

Wear your mask. Wash your hands. Wipe down the deliveries. Remember to social distance (I work in ad agencies - I've been doing that for years). But now, there's one more thing to pile on the to-do list in the new world order.

Dressing my room for Zoom.

Like most people I know, I'll be working remotely from home for the foreseeable future. So I planted a flag and claimed a small yet comfortable space to set up shop in my bedroom. The wife bought me a nice wooden table desk that fits just swell under the bedroom window, and looks out onto the lawn and flowers in our front yard.

As far as views go, I file it under things could be worse.

Sitting on the desk is my company monitor and laptop, as well as my personal laptop. With all those screens it looks like Mission Control, except I have trouble launching Photoshop much less rockets. There's also a desk lamp, along with several Hydro Flasks (hydrate people, can't stress it enough).

The problem is when I'm on a Zoom call, you can see most of my bedroom, including the not-as-firm-as-it-used-to-be-oh-my-aching-back California King bed behind me. So now, in addition to everything else to worry about, I have to get up early to make the bed and dress the room for showtime—the many Zoom calls I'll be on during the day.

I suppose I could take the easy way out and use a virtual background. The one with the wind blowing the palm trees is nice. So is the Golden Gate bridge. I've even added the hallway from The Shining and the lunar surface as options. But it's always a little distracting when several people on the call are using the same background. And if we're all in the same place, why do we have to have a Zoom call in the first place, amIrite?

Also, Zoom hasn't quite mastered the fine art of green screen. Using virtual backgrounds makes various parts of my face, fabulous head of hair and ripped (fat) body disappear while I move around during the calls. Mostly to drink from one of the Hydro Flasks.

So here's the new early morning routine: make the bed. Arrange the mountain of pillows the wife stores on the bed. Put the Thunder Road street sign my daughter gave me on top of the lamp next to my headboard, because, you know, Bruce. And make sure all the books on my night stand are facing spine out towards the camera, so everyone can see all my anti-Trump reading material.

If I was working in the office I wouldn't be able to make any political statements. But this is my house, so Fuck Trump.

The worst part of this work from home deal is getting up early. I've been called a lot of things, but morning person isn't one of them. Currently my iPhone alarm has Uptown Funk set to eleven to jolt me up in time for the daily show. But given the situation, I'm thinking of changing it to something more subtle, yet appropriate.

Like a stage manager screaming "Five minutes! Places people!"

Game of Phones

It's September again. That time of year when the weather gets suprisingly, unbearably hot for a month.

Fall is gently knocking at summer's door.

Kid's are learning and playing back in school.

Christmas displays are going up at Home Depot.

Rich Siegel starts waxing nostalgic.

Oh, and one more thing.

The new iPhones are announced.

Every year at this time Apple introduces their newest iPhone model. Sometimes the changes and improvements are minor, sometimes more substantial. Either way, they're always expensive.

This year was different. Not in the price tag, but in the offerings.

Sure, they went sequentially and introduced an iPhone 8 and 8Plus with some marginal improvements. But because it's the 10th anniversary of the introduction of the iPhone, anticipation for this year's event reached a fever pitch, not just among fanboys and the Apple community, but also the press and the general public. And the credit card companies.

To mark the occasion, Apple cooked up (#seewhatIdidthere) a special edition model: the iPhone X (pronounced "ten"). And to go with the special edition is a special price: $999 for the 64GB version, and $1149 for the 256GB version.

The iPhone X comes with all sorts of new technical whammy-jammy like facial mapping and recognition, emojis that animate with the users facial expressions (dubbed "Animojis"), using gestures instead of a home button among a few of them.

I have the same problem with iPhones as I do with cars—I hang on to them too long (insert high school girlfriend joke here).

My first one, phone, not girlfriend, was the 3GS. I thought it was amazing, and I never missed the chance to gloat about it to my friends who only had the iPhone 3. I was so happy with it, I sat out the 4, 4S and the 5. By that time though, it had gotten to the point where I couldn't update the system and a lot of apps wouldn't work on it. So when the 5S came out, I was first in line.

Well, figuratively. I'll never be first in line for a new iPhone. I can't wait that many days in line for anything, unless it's Springsteen tickets. Which I can now get on the iPhone.

The circle of life.

When the 6 Plus came out with the larger screen, I traded up. My eyes get worse every second they're open, and the larger real estate for the screen was a no brainer. Then the 7Plus came out with the better camera. Since I'd gotten the 6Plus on the lease program where you can upgrade without penalty every year, I walked in and did just that.

I'll admit it. I've been an Apple guy almost since the beginning with computers and phones. Every September when they announce the new iPhone, I'm like Steve Martin in The Jerk with the new phonebook.

If I'm being honest with myself, and where's the percentage in that, I don't really need the iPhone X. My 7Plus would do just fine for another few years, and I could bank the $1149, or put it to good use towards something else (Springsteen tickets).

But knowing me, and the tower of strength I am, I'll probably cave like Jim Gaffigan at the dessert bar and get it.

Unless next year's iPhone 11 cleans the house, walks the dog and washes the car.

Then I might wait.

Back to bed

I am many things. Funny. Good looking. Talented. Creative. Compassionate. Encouraging. Well read. Kind to children. Nice to the waitstaff. A catch as a husband. Someone who loves doing laundry. And loading a dishwasher. A good friend. A trusted confidante. An excellent driver. A great kisser. And definitely humble.

However one thing I am not now, nor have I ever been, is a morning person.

Mornings are just a cruel tease. Being a late night person, I rarely get to sleep before midnight or one in the morning. I say sleep in the loosest sense of the word. It's been years, literally, since I've slept eight hours straight through. I get up to pee. Or I startle awake from a dream. Sometimes I'm just restless and watch some TV at three in the morning to take the edge off (because nothing takes the edge off like skin care and exercise equipment infomercials). Occasionally my eighty-five pound German Shepherd launches himself up on the bed in the middle of the night.

That gets the old ticker going.

Oddly enough, one thing that never, and I do mean never, keeps me awake is work. I think it comes from so many years as a freelancer. But the second both feet are out of the office, I don't think about anything related to work until I have to be back the next morning.

And we know how I feel about mornings.

The point of all this, and there is one, is that right around the time the faintest sliver of sunlight starts to hit the pitch black night sky is the exact moment I actually manage to get myself back to the deep, still sleep I've been craving all night. It finally arrives just in time for sunrise. Ironically when I'm finally completely out, it's time to wake up.

There's no gradual, gentle, coming-up-from-the-bottom-of-the-pool kind of awakening for me. Because I know how deep asleep I am in the morning, the alarm has to be more than a light bell, chirping birds or a digital alarm. No, my iPhone alarm is Uptown Funk. It comes on loud, and it's a straight up jolt out of bed. In fact, I have to kiss myself I'm so pretty (see what I did there?).

So if you see me at work in the morning around nine, dragging myself around, looking somewhat foggy and I don't return your smile or your hello, don't ask how you're doing or what you're working on, please don't take it personally. I promise I will.

Sometime around eleven.

Trick of the trade

Freelancing at ad agencies, or anyplace for that matter, there are commonplace, everyday things I, like most people, have to tend to.

Check email. Answer said email. Check bank balances. Go on Facebook, Twitter and Instgram and tell people I'm working on a social assignment (I kid because I love). Perhaps, hypothetically, respond to a request for other freelance.

The problem is to do those things, I have to go through the agency server to connect to the interwebs. And then, the agency has the password to my bank account, and can read that email I got from the Head Of The China Treasury, who has a charitable donation of $35,000,000 only I can be trusted with (it was easy - all they wanted was my bank account and social security number. The transfer will be here any day now).

Many people far less paranoid than I am just shrug their shoulders, use the servers and surrender a certain amount of privacy for a nice day rate.

So what's a guy who loves his day rate and his privacy to do? Glad you asked.

You pick up one of these little gizmos.

This is my own personal wi-fi hotspot. About the size of a credit card, half as thick as an iPad and password protected, I connect to it and suddenly I can do all my personal business from my computer without the prying eyes of the IT guy, who really should be more worried about getting me that mouse I asked for three weeks ago.

Now, I could've used my smartphone as a hotspot, but then I'd have had to change my plan. And since I've been on AT&T with unlimited data plan since my first iPhone, I wasn't going to do anything to jeopardize that deal.

This device, cleverly called My Go Phone, lets me buy either 2G, 5G or 8G of data a month. I chose the 8G - it's seventy-five tax deductible dollars a month and worth every penny.

So if you have a personal email, a financial matter, or—hypothetically—a job offer you'd like to discuss with me, feel free to email me. Thanks to this snappy bit of technology, it'll just be between us.

Until Mike in Digital Experience hacks it.

Moving apps

This year, I jumped on the Apple train—again—and ponied up for the iPhone6s Plus. I’d had an iPhone5 for years, but after having to hold its teeny, tiny 4-inch screen near the tip of my nose to watch one too many binges of Breaking Bad and House Of Cards, I decided to trade up to the 6s Plus and its ginormous 5.5-inch screen.

I’ve had apartments smaller than this phone. The good news is all my worrying about not being able to text one-handed, fitting it in my jean pockets (thank God I don’t wear skinny jeans – no one needs to see that) and it not fitting in the cupholder in my car proved to be unfounded.

It only took one week and it was like I’d always been using it. In fact, in the same way my German Shepherd Max - the world’s greatest dog - looked huge at the beginning but doesn't anymore, the 6s Plus doesn’t look big to me unless I put an older iPhone next to it. Max also looks huge no matter what phone is next to him.

So here’s the thing: over the holiday weekend, with a little down time on my hands while I was in between slices of pumpkin pie, I decided I'd take a shot at organizing the bazillion app icons camping out wherever they damn well pleased across five big screens on my phone.

Jumping into action, and by that I mean leaning back in the big reading chair with iPhone in hand, I quickly and cagily figured out my plan of attack. I put travel apps in a folder named Travel. Health apps in a folder named Health. Money and banking apps in a folder named Finances. See where I’m going here?

At the end of it though, I still had a considerable number of orphan apps – including iSamJackson (“Get these motherf#%&ing snakes off this motherf#%&ing plane!"), Police Siren (woooooo and wahhh woooo wahhhh woooo), Basic Spanish (no bueno) and AwesomeFacts (not awesome, not all facts) – that I hardly ever use.

And by hardly I mean never.

They, along with many others, now all reside in one folder appropriately labeled Rarely Used Apps. By doing that I picked up two full screens worth of real estate. Now it’s just a matter of getting in the habit of finding apps that were on screen four on screen one. First world problems and all that.

I love the fact Apple iOS lets me create folders for my apps and clear up the screens, although I have to say I'm not entirely trusting of their motives. I mean, now that I have those two extra screens available, there's only one thing to do with them.

More apps.

In the zone

Time zones. They're either for you or against you.

Living on the west coast, and traveling to the east coast, I'm used to the three-hour shuffle. Losing the time going, getting it back on the way home. Somehow, in my disoriented mind, it all evens out and I can talk myself out of the lag.

But for the past four days I've been in the central time zone - two hours ahead of where I normally am. It's very confusing to me, which isn't good because I'm confused enough to start with.

I don't let the clock on my iPhone reset. Instead, I keep it set to my home time zone, and just apply a 'plus two' to whatever time it displays. I do this because I take a pill for cholesterol, and I want to be taking it the same time as I do every day - the time my body's used to.

Even if the same time is a different time. See what I'm saying?

The other thing about central time is all the TV shows are on an hour earlier than where I live. So I wind up missing a lot of them by at least a half hour or more. This might be at the top of the first-world problem list.

Anyway, I just wanted to get this posted tonight before I went to bed two hours ago.

Or is it two hours from now?

Remaining faithful

It's like Groundhog's Day.

Every September, Apple introduces the newest iPhone along with a few other products or improvements.

Then, online and in person, the Apple faithful show up in droves a couple weeks later to snap them up so they can have bragging rights to being among the early adopters of Apple's latest.

ME: Hi, my name is Jeff and I'm an Apple loyalist. ALL: Hi Jeff.

I love the annual show. From the year's worth of rumors leading up to it, to the pre-show music (all of it available on iTunes), to Apple's vice-president of Software Engineering Craig Federighi's humor-filled and loose presentation, to the products themselves, it all works for me. And on me.

I have an ancient iPhone5 I waited two months and went to seven Apple stores to get when it first came out. For those of you keeping count, that means as of today's presentation I'm three generations behind on the iPhone. I want the new iPhone6S Plus. But I probably won't get it.

Instead, I'll wait for next year's song and dance when they introduce the iPhone7. I like buying in the non-"S" years.

Whenever the subject of iPad comes up, between my laptop and my iPhone I've never been able to find a reason to hop on the iPad bandwagon. But I did want one after today's introduction of the 12.9" iPad Pro. It has an available Smart Keyboard for $169 to make it more like a laptop, and a $100 Apple Pencil which is their way of saying stylus.

However when I use the calculator on my ole' iPhone5 and add up exactly how much all this new gear would cost me - and add in the fact I now have tuition for young Mr. Spielberg, plus the wife and daughter are waiting for their new phones - it becomes painfully clear I'm going to have to wring (or ring) a little more use out of what I have.

Hey Siri, couldn't you cut me a little slack and make it every two years?

Don't ask: Watching your stuff

Continuing my ever popular Don't Ask series - the one that brought you such wildly popular and praised installments like Don't Ask: Moving, Don't Ask: Picking Up At The Airport, Don't Ask: Loaning You Money, Don't Ask: Sharing A Hotel Room, Don't Ask: Writing A Letter For You and the perennial Don't Ask: Sharing My Food, comes this timely post dealing with my latest irritation sweeping the nation: Complete strangers who ask me to watch their stuff.

When I work on a freelance gig that doesn't require me to be at the agency (the best kind), I like to get away from the distractions of home and use whatever Starbucks I happen to be near as my local branch office. Inevitably, as you'd expect in an establishment serving coffee in cups bigger than apartments I've had, people will eventually have to make a trip to the restroom.

For some reason, when that time arrives, I'm the guy they always turn to and say, "Excuse me, can you watch my stuff?"

I usually give them a non-committal kind of half-nod that can be taken for a yes, but that I can use for a no if their stuff goes missing and we wind up in court.

I think it's flattering people think I have an honest face (if that's what they think) and feel like they can trust me with their $3500 MacBook Pros, Swiss Army backpacks and iPhone 6's for as long as it takes them to pee. But the fact is with one house, two kids, two dogs, three cars and having to finance all of them, I have enough responsibility in my life without being a security guard for your stuff.

Plus the assumption I'm going to give chase to someone who's made off with your stuff is flattering, but misplaced. The most I'll do, and only because my sense of right and wrong is so finely honed, is try to get a plate number if they're in a getaway car.

It's an odd thing to me how unlike any place else, Starbucks and other coffee houses seem to work on the honor system. You don't leave your car running at the post office and ask the stranger walking by to watch it for a minute while you run in an mail a letter. Alright, maybe not a great analogy but you get my drift.

Anyway, it doesn't matter how nice you ask - I'm not getting shanked just because you couldn't hold it anymore.

Why not just do what I do? Get up, confidently walk to the restroom, quickly do your business and get back to your table. Make the assumption whoever's about to make off with your things doesn't know if you're watching them from the line or locked in the loo.

If your stuff is gone by the time you flush, don't blame me. I told you not to ask.

All flash, no depth

On every generation iPhone that comes out, one of the most predictable things Apple always waxes on about glowingly is the camera. Right now, it's up to eight megapixels, and has the latest motion steadying, auto-flash, auto-focus, easy zoom, flux capacitor technology so every picture is crystal clear and perfect all the way up to 88 miles an hour.

Their website even boasts "So anyone anywhere can take an amazing photo at any time."

Clearly, Apple believes they've used technology to turn us all into Annie Leibovitz, taking award-worthy pictures of even the most mundane and insignificant objects wherever we go. How else do you explain an average of 465 photos per 1GB devoted to them on every iPhone.

Apple is so confident of their phone camera, they show these pictures - among others - on their website as examples of the kind of results one can expect.

,

I was at an event the other night. It was a one-of-a-kind Tribute to the Beatles, with the two surviving band members performing. As you'd expect, it was a once in a lifetime photo opportunity. Fortunately, or so I thought, I had my iPhone camera and all it's picture-improving technology with me.

You should know that I'm a steady hand and have a fairly good eye. Additionally, because I've shot my fair share of commercials, I use the "one more for protection" approach to taking pictures at an event like this, almost guaranteeing there will be a clear, great, usable shot. Almost.

Here are some of iPhone pics from the event:

The idea perpetuated by Apple that an iPhone camera eliminates the need for a real camera is absurd. Just ask any photographer (real ones, not me).

This seems to be one of those lessons I have to keep learning. I have to stop shooting (see what I did there?) for convenience, and opt for the camera that's going to give me the results I expect. Even if it doesn't fit handily in my pocket.

Next time I'm attending an event that's bound to be filled with Kodak moments (look it up), I can definitely picture myself using one of these to capture the memories:

Highway to hell

I know what you're thinking. And no, this isn't a post about my career path in advertising.

In yet another example of good parenting, I was driving down the road yesterday. Sixty miles an hour, windows and sunroof open, and my 14-year old daughter at my side. My iPhone was blasting the quintessential rock'n roll / driving song, Highway to Hell.

Pure, unadulterated fun.

I joke about good parenting, but here's a lesson worth remembering: as you get older and life gets more and more demanding, there are so few moments of pure abandon and joy that when one comes along, especially one you can recreate on a regular basis, then by all means take it. And don't give a damn what anybody else thinks.

There will always be a world full of people trying to harsh your buzz. Don't let them.

If I wanted to take this line of thinking along it's logical path, there's probably another lesson in here about creating your own happiness and all, but even as I write that it sounds a little too new age for me to get into. Maybe I'll save it for another time, like after I watch an Oprah marathon and discuss it with my life coach (that was for you Mel).

Anyway, if I can give my kids one piece of advice tonight, it's this. As they do their homework, focus on their futures and try to make the world a better place, I hope they'll always remember to do the thing that can keep them going when they feel like they can't go any further, lift them up when they're as down as they can be and make everything seem like it's right in the world.

Rock on.

Making the grade

As we near the end of the school semester, there are a lot of ceremonies where awards and recognition are doled out to students who’ve excelled academically. Of course, if you’ve ever seen my work, read this blog, or watched me try to open a sealed-plastic set of headphones, it goes without saying I have no personal point of reference for these ceremonies.

However I’m happy to say my National Honor Society son does. He, along with many of his classmates, received certificates (suitable for framing) to remember their many accomplishments, including putting the X-box controller and iPhone down long enough to get a paper written.

As I sat at one of these ceremonies the other evening, watching 4.5 GPA student after 4.5 GPA student cross the stage, get their certificate and enjoy the well-earned applause, I couldn’t help thinking I wasn’t even smart enough to know you could get a 4.5 GPA.

At the expense of their social life, sleep, family time and sometimes their health, these students saw their goal on the horizon, and realized if they wanted it bad enough they had to fight for it. They burned the midnight oil, ordered some more, and burned that.

It was awe inspiring.

I was never that focused or determined when I was younger (“Jeff’s a good student, he just needs to apply himself more.”). With my iPhone, laptop and the television, I’m certainly not that way now. And while I like to think I’ve done alright for myself in life, academically there’s always been this nagging feeling I could’ve done so much better had my priorities been different.

But after seeing those wonderful, smart and accomplished students the other night, I left feeling inspired. I think the real lesson I came away with is that it’s never too late. I can still finish up getting my master's degree in Theater Arts.

After all, you don’t need a 4.5 GPA to know that’s where the real money is.

The impossible dream

Tossing and turning, bathroom runs and a dog that picks 2 a.m. to bark at nothing. Whatever happened to a good night’s sleep? I can’t even tell you the last time I had one. I can tell you I’m not alone.

Everyone I know is walking around in this fugue state brought on by sleep deprivation. I don’t have a friend who’s getting the rest they need and deserve. What makes it worse is since I’m awake so much of the night, I have plenty of time to sit there and remember a time when I could just hit the sack, and log about nine or ten hours in what would seem like the blink of an eye.

Not anymore.

The result is a never-ending state of this low level exhaustion which I’m pretty sure can’t be good for me. I think I need to stop checking my iPhone every few minutes, turn off the television before midnight and quit drinking a glass of water before I go to bed. The brain waves have to be slowed down (although many people who work with me would argue they’re plenty slow already).

The other problem is it seems when I finally hit my best sleep, the one where I’m dreaming and really down deep, it’s time to get up.

So much of life is timing.

If catnaps were an option during the day I’d definitely do it. I’m at the point now where, even if I can’t have it straight through, I’m going to take my sleep where I can find it.

Come to think of it, I have three meetings tomorrow.

Better remember to bring my pillow.

Goodbye Steve

Is it possible for a circuit board to have good intentions? It is if it lives in an Apple product.

Every one I own sets out to do the same thing: make my life better in some way. Unlike any other brand I own, Apple consistently makes good on the promise.

Ironically, the way I found out Steve Jobs had died today was while I was searching for information about Apple's newest release: the iPhone 4S. I went to the Apple site, and on the home page was the above image.

I know how silly it sounds, but it knocked the wind out of me. I've lost family members before. It feels the same.

It's not just the man, but the idea of the man that's so powerful. A visionary, often compared to people like Henry Ford and Ben Franklin. The kind of person that only comes along once in a lifetime. Regardless of what people who have accomplished much less with their lives and their companies will tell you, it's a valid comparison.

Tonight there'll be plenty of coverage of his passing, with smarter people than me paying tribute. I'm sure I'll be watching it all.

So, as I sit here writing this on my MacBook Pro, listening to iTunes, with my daughter watching Toy Story 3 in the other room and waiting for a call on my iPhone, I just wanted to say goodbye Steve.

Thank you for thinking different.

And iCare because?

I have an iPhone. I love it. And while at one point there might have been a time when I wanted to tell everyone I know that I had one, it doesn't matter now.

Because everyone has one.

So what exactly is the thought behind needing to brag the text or email you sent me came from your iPhone? I don't care. It was kind of a given it had to come from somewhere. When you send it from your desktop or laptop it's not signed off with "sent from my iMac." or "sent from my 17" MacBook Pro."

You want me to be...what? Impressed? Nope. Flattered? Not really. Happy you can afford an iPhone? Yes. I'm very happy for you.

What I do care about is getting a text or email in a timely manner, and having a phone conversation that doesn't drop out every ten feet.

Based on my experience, I'm pretty sure no one with an iPhone is bragging about that.

Another iPhone? iThink iMight be getting tired of this

I was on hold for the iPhone for a long time. The first generation just didn't have the features I needed. The Samsung I had at the time had a five megapixel camera, shot video, and - most importantly as I now know - was on the Verizon network. But I'm a Mac-based individual, so I decided to wait another year for the second generation. Because I knew when it got here, it'd have all the features I was hoping for.

Which, Apple being Apple, it didn't.

So I waited yet another year, and then finally, the third generation iPhone 3Gs arrived. With a slightly better but still not great camera (that shot video but not really great video). More but not a lot more memory. And like the other two generations before it, thanks to AT&T, free call-dropping.

In spite of all that, I made the decision I'd put in enough time waiting and took the plunge. And even with its shortcomings, I love it.

For starters, it's cured my case of phone envy. Because it's an iPhone and everything that implies. But now I'm starting to hear rumblings and rumors, and mock ups like this one are starting to pop up showing what people think the fourth generation might offer when it comes out this June or July. Things like an even better camera. Even bigger screen. Even more memory. Even better sound.

And damn it, it's all making me feel like I should've waited longer.

At least when Apple does this with the MacBook Pro I don't have to re-up for about three years. But every year for the iPhone? The sad thing is I know I'll be in line with everyone else at the Apple Store the first weekend it goes on sale.

I also know if they keep pulling this stunt every year, it'll definitely make me think different about Apple.

Just not the way they want me to.