I have so far managed to avoid buying a cellular telephone. But the trainshouters are doing me in. I refer to the guys on my commuter train who bellow their intimate business strategies into their cell phones, oblivious to people like me: decent, hardworking folk who may have sleepless infants at home and who look forward to a little nap time. Last week I came up with a way to protect my constitutional Right to Snooze. But first I needed a wireless phone of my own.
Virtually everyone is selling them these days, from Radio Shack to department stores. And it's...
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