I mean, with their cutsey, for-girls-only white laptops and their touchy-touch-touch phones that play music and bring you to cross-continental orgasm-- they seem to be doing alright without my help.
I mean, Steve Jobs doesn't seem to be doing very well, but he may need hemodialysis more than he needs my suggestions about product enhancement.
Then again, whether my help or wisdom is needed or not, this is my soapbox, my "column," my blog, and so, when I have something to say, it's at least going to be welcomed here.
Last night, I thought of the greatest App in the world. Unrivaled in functionality, unparalleled in brilliance and unmatched in immediate worldly necessity-- this is no App that helps folk singers at open mic nights tune their guitars or helps recently graduated theatre-majors find 3-star sushi in the Village.
No, this is an App designed to help all of us: you and me.
The Shut-the-Fuck-Up App.