Alas, Poor RAZR, I Knew You Well
Yetro is something so unfashionable it has yet to be retro—and probably will never be. Example: my RAZR. I’ve had it for almost three years now. I hate it. Actually, hate is too strong a word. I pity it. My mobile phone with its nauseous blue-painted interface, its ability to change its ring tone to the Motorola theme whenever it feels like it, and its battery, which now gives me about five minutes’ talk time before it bleeps like a demented synthetic chicken. In the video above, Jesus and I “reenact” a more joyful time, its original unboxing three long years ago. Today, I’m thinking I should bite the bullet and retire the old boiler. Is the utter demise of the RAZR finally nigh at hand? Not for Gizmodo readers who obviously have moved on long ago, but for trailing edge late adopters too?
In nine years, I’ve gone through five mobiles. A Nokia brick my dad gave me (left in the back of a taxi), an Ericsson flip T28 (the flip eventually flopped), an Ericsson T68 (honestly, the best phone ever, lasted three years), a cheapo, tiny Panasonic I picked up at Dubai airport for 50 bucks, and the RAZR.
Perhaps its because, as phones have become more sophisticated, they have become more fallible. The RAZR promised so much—and I’m not talking about bumping into Beckham at the supermarket checkout here—and failed to deliver.
As my first cameraphone, it made pictures that looked like something I drew on Etch-a-Sketch a couple of decades ago, but I can live with that. What I can’t live with is the sluggy interface. Or the buttons that don’t work, with their eerie backlight that just shows up all the hideous detritus that my phone has picked up from being chucked into the black hole-esque dustbin that is my bag. Or the seemingly random volume control. I can’t see a thing on the screen when the sun is shining. And I have room for just 13 incoming SMS messages at any one time before I have to start deleting them.
So, let’s talk about the good times with my RAZR. *tumbleweed blows across the page* I was pissed off the day I bought it because the shop didn’t even have the black one I wanted. I’d liked the look of that when it came out, but by the time my Panasonic gave up the ghost, all that was available was silver. Why did I go through with it? It was small enough to fit into my pockets without making me look like a ladyboy, and I’d heard good things about Motorola from other friends. They’re not my friends any more.
I asked myself what I liked about it, and there was one thing: the wallpaper is a picture of Jesus taken the day after he asked me to marry him, and I’ll be sad to see that go. But the quality is so shite—honestly, I’d have got better results from a pinhole camera—I know that it won’t travel. Plus, for some reason, I can’t send photos via SMS.
I can’t even lose it, like older more beloved phones. I left the RAZR in a club a couple of months ago, and I’d made it halfway down the block when some guy came running up behind me. “You left this on the bar,” he wheezed. (Everyone in Spain smokes, and I’m a fast walker.) As he palmed the RAZR back into my hand, I could swear there was a look of pity on his face.
In truth, this isn’t about the RAZR, but what comes after. I bleeding know it’s time for a new phone, but which? No prizes for guessing which one Jesus wants me to get. But even when the 3G model of the iPhone eventually deigns to park its arse at an Apple Store near me, I am still digging my heels in over certain issues—internal memory too small, eminently crackable screen for my klutziness, a rather larger size than a closed RAZR, etc etc. I also know that the largest-capacity 3G iPhone would be molto ’spensivo, and I don’t know whether I really want to spunk that much on a phone. Pathetic, isn’t it?
So here I am, willing but unable to put the RAZR out of its misery. Until it breathes its last, when the ringtone that sounds like J-Lo bellydancing sputters to a halt, as the little screen with the M logo fades to gray, when the buttons lie dull and unresponsive beneath my desperate fingers, that will be the time to replace it. Got any recommendations?
Ryan at Engadget says they’ve been chatting up one of the divinely chosen to lay eyes on the second-gen iPhone, and they’re claiming a couple details we haven’t heard before, as well as the by-now familiar: 3G and real GPS—expected, and hoped for. Metal backing out, glossy black is in, with chrome volume buttons, which should help with signal issues. It’s also a little fatter (probably cause of GPS and battery, which still isn’t removable) but you can toss your stupid headphone adapter. The screen is the same size and res (we’d heard they were trying to move to plastic, but doesn’t seem to be the case). He’s guessing it could ship in July. Update: To be clear, neither us nor Engadget were claiming that this is an actual pic, just illustrative (besides, it’s a few weeks old, see the in-body link). [Engadget]
At the Apple store on NYC’s 
A New York Times story about the iPhone’s assault on Blackberry-maker RIM has a couple of interesting bits in it, notably that RIM CEO Mike Lazaridis isn’t a fan of touchscreens (”I couldn’t type on it and I still can’t type on it, and a lot of my friends can’t type on it”) but RIM’s hard at work on the