Changing from the iPhone to the Android is cataclysmic.
It's a seismic thing, like changing churches. One day you are a Methodist. Then, inexplicably, you decide to become Scientologist.
For four days, my life was a-kilter.
I wandered the desert, an arid place with other lost souls in the midst of cellphone shift. Some of us shifted from iPhones to the Android.
Others went the other way.
For me, changing from the great Land of the "I" to the Galaxy called Android was a chaotic thing.
To iPhoners, I had committed the ultimate sin. And perhaps they were right, for I was punished.
Those apps for which I had become familiar the past couple of years were nowhere to be found. In their stead, an array of apps for which I was unprepared.
It was as if I were trying to learn a different language. I was in Babel.
And lo, pop-ups were everywhere, skittering across the face of the Galaxy like Meerschaums.
An errant press of my finger and I was transported into yet another world - one of sales and marketing - seeking, yes, to separate me from my riches.
The video editing app I had learned wasn't available on Android.
Magisto was. Mephisto, I say.
It said it would "intuitively" edit. Wonderful, I thought. Therefore, I don't have to.
And thus it edited. And the band jam I filmed that it edited played, even, it seems, without preview.
And the band members were without their heads. It was a Solomon-like decision, I thought, chopping off body parts like that.
And so Magisto was scrapped.
To be replaced by another, and another and another. Impostors all, false gods and prophets.
And in this desert, a bush. It wasn't burning, so I bent toward it and lit it with a match.
It burst into flame, and I saw that it was good.
And inside the flaming bush was an apple with a bite taken out of it.
And from this flame, I imagined a voice.
Spake the voice, "Why dost thou leaveth me?"
"The iPhone went buggy," I told the bush.
"Voice messages are lost in a nether world. It drops calls. It's old. It's a 4. And then there's this new thing, this Galaxy, shiny, all HD and stuff. And forgive me, but it's way cool."
"Was it the iPhone?" the bush responded. "Or was it thyself? Did'st thou consider a new batteryeth?"
I had not.
"Get thee to the 'I' store and purchaseth one," intoned the bush.
This I pondered as I wandered the desert for three more days, fussing still with the newness of the Galaxy. I wasn't in good enough shape to do 40 days and 40 nights.
Then I went and bought a battery. And the magicians at the land of the "I" inserted it into the phone.
And lo, it was good. It was ... a miracle.
This then is a lesson. From the book of Jobs.
That to switch, or so to leave the Land of the "I" in such a way, is indeed a sin of the highest order.
I am to pass this missive along. The bush made me say it.