Like most people my age, I have a relationship with my phone that in some ways mimics that of a parent and his newborn: always taking it with me, always expecting it to wake me up, having the reflex to play with it at every dull moment, and, shrieking when I drop it. My addiction has also severely worsened since joining Twitter and discovering the immense academic population that inhabits it (with good reason). At the same time, I’ve never been one who felt the need to constantly upgrade my mobile gadget; I had this bad boy for years before hopping on the smartphone bandwagon. If you are one of those people who upgrades every year, say to each consecutive iPhone the month of release – and you can afford it – great. I may hold the strong opinion that those hundreds of dollars could be spent better elsewhere, but who am I to judge? I’m no Son of Man.