Moses, Meet Steve

My friend Mick, Warner Avenue homie/Michigan-based surgeon/fellow blogger, sent this wonderful cartoon to me, in celebration of my new relationship with my iPhone.  I feel upgraded in ways I never expected.  Who needs Botox?  Mr. Style makes me feel youngish again.  I order him around, tell him to do stuff and he complies:  Find me a smiley face app.  Done.  Send this photo of Dusty to my sons.  Done.  Update me on useless info.  Done. Normally, I shun any sort of product endorsement.  Cigar-chomping, whiskey-swilling newspaper gal that I never was, I do recall many ugly, protracted fights with the ad department of the illustrious Century City News.  They were all about synergy, although no one called it that back then.  Buy an ad, get a feature, was their motto.  Mine was a little different:  No eff'n way.  For two minutes, I was the editor, the powerful honcho, the chick in the flimsy cubicle calling the shots (sorta kinda not really).  I tell you this for a reason, one that escapes me.  Oh, wait, it's coming back to me.  I would never use my blog to endorse a product, and yet, here I am, extolling the virtues of the iPhone.  Am I doing it so that Apple will forever send me, the SJG, a resident of Sherman Oaks who has little if any influence over anyone, a new iPhone every time it comes out? How dare you excuse me of such a thing.  That is beneath you.