Is it asking too much to have a cell phone that does one thing well? For instance, act like a phone. I dont need a camera. I dont need voice recognition. I dont need a word processor. I dont need a recorder. I dont need a Clay Aiken love song as a ring-tone. I dont need news bulletins. I dont need stock tickers. I dont need a daily horoscope. I dont need a joke of the day. I dont need a TV. I dont need movie trailers either. I have a boat load of technology for all that stuff.

What I need is a phone. You know, one I can carry with me that allows me to send or receive something described as a phone call. Now Im not being picky but it would also be nice if the phone worked in such a way that I might hear the person on the other end without having to shove the whole thing into my ear canal two or three inches. And if this could all be done with the assurance that Im not adding cancer cells to what is already a damaged brain, well then, that would be swell. Is that asking too much?

I just want a phone, which is derived from the Greek word phone, whose translation, of all crazy things, is voice!

I think this all came to a head when I recently upgraded my cell phone to one of those RAZRs. Its thin. It folds. Its easy to carry. Thats enough technology for me. Now if it could just be a phone, it would be perfect. But alas, its not. Its a swiss army knife for people who have to hear, read and see everything about everyone, everywhere, every second of the day. So it comes packaged with an owners manual as thick as a Clinton memoir, and just slightly less interesting. The handbook is so complicated that its accompanied by a quick reference guidethe inoperative word being quick, since a purse is required to carry it. And Im not about to start doing that. Ive got enough identity problems as it is.

Its not all bad though. The phone comes with a CD that once you skip through all the shameless plugs for VCAST, sends you to a website. And if you click through a half dozen more commercials, it eventually lands you at a very nice interactive reference guide, which I recommend you bookmark. That way you dont need to load up the CD every time you have a question. Like the other day I was at a baseball game. Somehow, I had pressed a secret button that sent my phone into VCAST mode. I needed to make an actual call and wasnt sure how to get back to phone mode without signing up for VCAST for ten years. Fortunately, I happened to have my desktop PC and monitor with me. Ever since I bought this phone, I cart around my reference tools wherever I go. Yes, its a tad gauche but quite handy. Anyway, Id say about five minutes later, I had my answer, and I never needed the CD.

I suppose for some, the video bells and whistles are fun in a real self-indulging way. Thats nice when you know how to use them. But what about the challenged? Like me? I tried the camera. Big mistake. Played with the button while holding the phone in my lap. Took a close up picture of my crotch by mistake. The pants had the bunched up thing going on too. In my attempt to delete it, I made it the background picture. Cant get rid of it. Yeah, its embarrassing to lend my phone to someone. So I dont any more, which upsets my friends, which I have fewer of now. Yeah, that video stuff isnt for me but as least I get the appeal.

What I dont get, and yet what seems most popular, is text messaging. I think I understand the underlying principle. Instead of using the phone to converse with someone by voice in real-time, Ill pay twice as much each month for the privilege of using a ten digit keypad to type obtuse, short messagesyou know, like U R L8. Its like using the phone to make vanity license plates for Gods sake. Whats next? People in networked cafes holding their laptops up to their ear and mouth to make phone calls, which is all I want to do with my cell phone?

Why would anyone want to text someone anyway, when talking seems so much more easy and engaging? Might it be because you are in a situation where calling someone would be impolite? For example, youre at dinner with a boring date. So, instead of excusing yourself to make a call from the restroom, your head abruptly tilts down enough to let your eyes dart to the phone buried in your lap and snap back to feign attention to the witless dialogue you so desperately want to escape. You frantically press your cell phone keypad as if you are thumb wrestling it for the life of your first-born. Your lips curl with concentration, alternating from one side to the other. A bit of your tongue sticks out of the corner, as you finish the probing message that must get to the outside world, wat u doin. You send it off. You believe your date has not noticed. Success.

Dream on. You were as discreet as the sounding of a spicy burrito fart in a crowded elevator.

I dont know. It must be me. I hear my phone playing Rachmaninoff right now. Dont know why. Dont know how to stop it either. Sometimes I go to voice mail and hear new messages people sent me weeks ago. Sometimes I get my own messages that I left other people months ago. I even get messages from dead people. They seem content by the way. The white cotton robes breathe nicely. Foods hot and tastefully seasoned. The only complaint so far, the lines to play bocce ball are long.

I just want a phone.