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baby out of my holsterā€”of course Iā€™ve got a holsterā€”and I flip it open in one smooth motion. Thereā€™s no fiddling with the password, no finicky fingerprint recognition, and there damn well ainā€™t no fumbles or drops. Just one cool, well-oiled, slickā€”

FLIP!

And that baby is open for business. Check the caller ID real quickā€”I mean, my number is unlisted, obviously, but with fans as dedicated, as obsessed, and, between me and you, as straight-up crazy AF as mine, well, you just never know.

Then I lean back, bring that bad boy up to my ear, and the magic begins. Maybe Iā€™m closing a $10 million deal. Maybe Iā€™m insulting one of my countless mortal enemies. Maybe Iā€™m yelling at Razor Frank to remember to do my laundry back at the Top Secret Command Centerā€”always separate blacks from darker blacks, Razor Frank!I Maybe itā€™s just a robocall from Zimbabwe, but Iā€™m playing it cool and talking anyway so no one knows I got punked.

Whatever it is, I look great doing it. I got that slim, aerodynamic baby nestled snug against my ear. Its slightly rounded edges contrast perfectly with my impressively square jaw. Its glossy black casing glints in the sunā€”or in the klieg lights of whatever exclusive red-carpet event Iā€™m attendingā€”and beautifully brings out the subtle shades of even darker, glossier black in my hair. As I move my supple, pouty, yet extraordinarily masculine lips, Slick Daddy dances and prances beneath my warriorā€™s nose, and thereā€™s no clunky smartphone to detract from my flared nostrils, stunningly cubic chin, sheer splendor, or soul-stealing dominance.

My good looks get some breathing roomā€”they can stop ā€œdoingā€ and simply be.

Whatā€™s that saying? ā€œIf a flip phone rings in a forest and thereā€™s no one there to answer it, am I still a handsome bastard?ā€ Iā€™m no Zen expert, but that sounds about right.

And it goes without sayingā€”but it bears repeatingā€”that because I look great, I feel great. I mean, I always feel great, because Iā€™m so successful. But I feel better than great. I feel bloodthirsty-killer great.

Iā€™m looking good, Iā€™m feeling good, and maybe, just maybe, I close that previously $10 million deal at $100 million. Maybe instead of an awesome witty comeback for my mortal enemy, I come up with a mortal witty comeback for my awesome enemy. Maybe I yell at Razor Frank to do both the laundry and the dishes. Maybe Iā€™m extra charming on the robocall from Zimbabwe, and I make a brand-new robotic Zimbabwean friend. Hell, maybe we decide to grab a couple beers later that night.

And Iā€™ll be honestā€”sometimes using my flip phone is fun just because it pisses off the smartphone users so much.

ā€œOkay, Doc, so Iā€™ll text you later.ā€

ā€œYeah, sorry, man, have you tried texting on a flip phone? Not cool.ā€

ā€œFine, then Iā€™ll send you a link toā€”ā€

ā€œHahahaha. A link? Have you tried using the internet on a flip phone?ā€

ā€œNo, butā€”ā€

ā€œLike, I think this dot-matrix globe pops up on the little screen with the words ā€˜World Wide Webā€™ beneath it, and the globe kinda spins around for ten minutes, and itā€™s not even smooth, itā€™s really choppy, and then it stops, and it just says ā€˜Error.ā€™ Itā€™s fucking hysterical.ā€

ā€œSo youā€™re sayingā€¦ā€

ā€œYep.ā€

ā€œI actually have toā€¦ā€

ā€œThatā€™s right.ā€

ā€œTalk? On the phone? With words?ā€

ā€œWow. You finally put it together.ā€

ā€œBut I never do that! Not even with my parents!ā€

ā€œIā€™m not your fucking parents. The name-ame-ame is Doctor-octor-octor Disrespect-ect-ect-ect.ā€

ā€œWhy are you making that funny echo noise with your mouth?ā€

ā€œI donā€™t know what youā€™re talking about.ā€

So. If having the right flip phone is so critical on so many levelsā€”technical, cosmetic, martial, philosophicalā€”how do you choose the right one for you?

Damned if I know. I mean, seriouslyā€”I donā€™t know you. I donā€™t know what your face looks like, what your values are, what your income is, how much of a warrior you may or may not be. How the hell should I know the right flip phone for you? Iā€™m not a psychic.

But I do know the right flip phones for me. Maybe thatā€™ll help you out, or maybe it wonā€™tā€”not my problem.

Motorola

As far as the Doctor is concerned, Motorolas are the crĆØme de la crĆØme of flip phones, to borrow from the Swahili. English canā€™t capture how exceptional they are.

Who can forget the iconic Razr? No one with a combat knife in an ankle sheath, thatā€™s who.

And if youā€™re like, ā€œBut, Doc, Iā€™m only twelve years old, I wasnā€™t even born when the Razor was around,ā€ then look it up, punk! Oh yeah, and when you Googleā€”itā€™s ā€œRazr,ā€ no ā€œO.ā€ No vowel at all between the ā€œZā€ and the ā€œR.ā€ I have no idea why, but for some reason that makes the phone a ton cooler, all right? Itā€™s like someone took a razor to the word ā€œrazor,ā€ the ultimate conclusion of Occamā€™s razr.

Once you do just a minimum of research youā€™ll see just what made the Razr so damn unforgettable. Thin. Sleek. Shiny. Sharp.

I look at it and think, ā€œCareful, Doc, you could cut yourself on that baby, itā€™s so fucking sharp.ā€ Probably because I actually have cut myself on my Razr before, which might have to do with how surprisingly sensitive my perfect skin is.

Whatever it is, itā€™s awesome, and itā€™s Docā€™s choice of flip phone for when heā€™s stepping out on the town and wants to make a callā€”and a great impression on the hundreds of paparazzi who follow him everywhere he goes.

Oh, and the keypad looks like something out of Tron. The original, badass Tron, not the bullshit sequel. So yeah, cool keypad too.

The Razr was, as everyone knows, followed by the Krzr. The Krzr was longer, narrower, and had exactly zero vowels. But honestly, it wasnā€™t quite as cool as the Razr. Just trying a little too hard, you know?

Donā€™t get me wrong, I still own seven Krzrs. I mean, Iā€™m richā€”so why not? And theyā€™re still pretty cool, just not as cool as the Razr. I own thirty of those. Each one is a different shade of black.

Whatā€™s less

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