Open letter to the new Apple iTablet
By Mark Morford
Dear imminent newborn world-altering Apple iWondergizmo, you who is right now being hyped to breathless orgasmic meganirvana by every tech columnist, gizmo blogger and swooning gadget pundit from here to Steve Jobs' personal foot masseuse:
If all excitable hints, whispers and established track records are to be believed, you're about to revolutionize the worlds of media, entertainment and finger-flicking, multi-tapping, picture-dancing habituality yet again, just as your creator's previous devices transformed the way we click on cute little pictures, compile eccentric dinner-party playlists, shake $300 chipsets to choose a local restaurant, and consistently misspell "agalmatophilia" in our hot sexting exchanges.
It has become apparent, dear Thing of the Future Now, that no one has the slightest clue just what the hell you're capable of. Indeed, the rumors regarding your potential feature set are rampant and giddy: Will you have this futuristic wireless acronym? Will you have that mind-melding throughputocity? Will you have this backlit bulbtuner or that supercompressed videogorithm? Who the hell knows?
And what of your appearance? Your materials? Will you be razor thin and gleaming like the mysteries of the fifth dimension? Made of rhodium, dark matter and the hymens of lost pagan goddesses? Will you smell like cake, feel like baby skin and taste like the hot roadkill of love? No one has a goddamn clue. Hence, the excitement, as they say, mounteth. ...
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