Steve Jobs has my money, again.

Sometimes it doesn’t matter how much you tell yourself you don’t want something, how much you know an item isn’t really worth the money your shelling out for it, how my you think that getting a device mainly for browsing the web on the sofa is an unnecessary luxury, in the end you end up opening the wallet and handing over money to someone who is being far to smiley in an Apple store. In fact you do this and wait in line, or in my case shambolic huddle, for the privilege. Come on, I was only there to buy a grown up iPhone, or was I? Shouldn’t there be angels or something? I think angels seem to...