"They" say there's no original thought anymore. Just like there's no original phone.

I sighed out loud when I got news of the new iPhone-S, touting 17,000 apps before the iStore campsite once again opens for sleeping bags. A new phone later, another day older.

I've always liked Apple just fine. I write on a MacBook and have an iPod. But I drew the line by not putting the enclosed (free!) Apple stickers on my SUV. These days that really messes with one's reputation of being contrary.

I still own a Palm Treo 650 (poor guy, you might say, he must be stuck in the dark ages. Probably needs a converter box for his Zenith TV too) and I despise that thing. I've had to grow my biceps just to put that behemoth to my ear. And after once blowing four hours on building a 3-column spreadsheet on a screen the size of a pack of smokes, I put the stylus out in the ashtray.

Thank God my phone contract is up for renewal. Or rather termination. I know exactly what I want. A phone with no camera, no GPS, no texting, no web, no dinner recipes, no Grand Theft Auto, no nothing. You know, something original. Ideally with reception. I've looked high and low for one, but still haven't found what I'm looking for.

Now I secretly hope there's an app for that.