I don't know what's making my head hurt worse right now, the after effects of all-you-can-drink Metal Mondays at the Ottobar or trying to wrap my brain around who in the world would collect an Eric Clapton themed iPhone knockoff. I can't even muster up enough vitriol to shame this thing back to where it came from - the deepest, darkest pits of hell. Thankfully, someone else has already tried.
Take, for example, the following T-Mobile commercial. They're not just selling whatever a MyTouch Fender edition is; they're selling the feeling that seeing the dried-out husk of Eric Clapton cough up musical tumbleweeds while stroking a guitar phone evokes. For me, that feeling is unadulterated rage tempered with profound irritation. It's a mood that I can only describe as "suffocating slowly in flavorless Jell-o."