Can You Hear Me Now?

In his science-fiction fantasy, A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy,
author Douglas Adams allows that the "answer to the question of life, the universe, and everything is 42".  With all credit due a writer of his magnitude, we beg to differ with Mr. Adams.  His analysis was spot on....until Steve Jobs and Apple Computer decided to expand their product line. From our view, the answer to that question is now 5, as in I-Phone 5.
                      To the dismay and disappointment of a few, the departure from "42" started with the first cellular telephones.  These were hefty, mobile devices; the first in a long line that was designed to liberate the user from dependency on his home telephone, and ultimately, the need to relate to the, uh..."non wifi'ers".  The originals were roughly the dimensions and mass of a brick, and no doubt, could have filled a gap in the fireplace, as well as affording its owner: 1) a handy door stop, or 2) a martial arts Judo-chop enhancement.
                      The year was 1990, and the dawn of a new technology.  While both new and exotic, this revolutionary mode of communication was an ungainly beastie.  Toting them around town was a challenge.  Too heavy and bulky to tuck into a purse or pants pocket, and hanging halfway to the kneecap when holstered to a belt, they tested every owner's deployment skills.   But when you could plant one in the middle of a tavern table or a secretary's desk, there was instant status and recognition.  The rest of that part of the world in your influential sphere was obliged to acknowledge that you had arrived!
                       However, arrival did come at a price; roughly the equivalent of that spent on the purchase of a used 1967 Sport Fury convertible with a 383cc engine, Hurst linkage and vibraphone sound. (Many were the days when this writer would cruise around town with the top down, and kids shrinking from sight as their dad accompanied the radio; singing song after song. - But we digress)  Back to the chase>>> Given the fact that every school in which we taught had an abundance of phone lines, there really was no apparent need for this big, black bauble.  There had to be some other rationale, some other justification for ownership beside those of the obvious ego-stroking kind.  Oila!  There was!

                        The safety gambit came into play.  Supposing we were driving home in the evening, following a parent-teacher meeting or a workshop.   The road is deserted, and we run out of gas.  There is neither gas station nor convenience store to be seen, anywhere.  What to do?  Well, we pull out our trusty techie toy and call home.  That's what we do!  The gambit worked.
                     Fast-forwarding to the present, and twenty-two years later, the editorial staff has been advised of the release of the aforementioned I-phone5, with applications that can do "virtually" everything but walk your West Highland Terrier.  Apple stock has risen to over $700 per share.  The feeding frenzy at electronic stores has been common tv news footage for several days.  To some purchasers, the '5 will be such a constant companion,  that we can envision the day when plastic surgeons will offer the opportunity for their surgical implantation.

                     Of course, and as with previous models, the owner can interface this phone with his Blue Tooth.  Forgive us if we sound like Cro-Magnon refugees, but where did that name come from?  This thing that holds one ear in a death lock is not blue.  It also does not look like any incisor, bicuspid or molar we ever saw.  To the casual passerby it seems to convey the unspoken message, "I am presently, or about to be engaged in a phone conversation which is, or will be, infinitely more appealing or essential than anything you have to say.  Don't bother me." ( Sort of reminiscent of hamburger commercials we have seen.)  In other words, this is a device with the potential to be rather off-putting.  So much for the advancement of face-to-face interaction.
                    As for us, it could well be that we are the last in our neighbohood to own a "2G"- that's second-generation-dumb-phone.  This device doesn't do anything but send and receive calls, and under duress,  take pictures (4),which have never been sent to anybody. (One of these is a snap-shot of the Bride, snoozing in her recliner during our nightly two-hour time of tv togetherness.  Again, we digress.)
                  The question that abides is the same as it is for the personal computer: are we - given all the benefits of immediacy, accuracy (5) and time sponging - any better off than when the answer to everything was 42?  Inquiring minds and certain neanderthals need to know.