By Jorge Sosa
Apple fans are a curious bunch. Our attachment to the brand goes far beyond what other electronics makers can muster. Ever heard of someone getting a Lenovo tattoo on their booty? Didn't think so.
Whenever the word gets out that the Cupertino mothership is about to drop a new product, no one gets more excited than us Apple freaks. Yes, the volume of hype surrounding an Apple product launch can be enough to get everyone talking in the days immediately before and after. But us Apple lovers spend a fair amount of time in the months and years between launches, obssessing over the latest product and speculating about what the next one will be.
"Those of us who love Apple will continue to debate the iPad debacle."
That's why those of us who love Apple will continue to debate the iPad debacle, long after news of its underwhelming unveiling has slipped from the mainstream's radar.
Is "debacle" too strong a word to describe the sense of disappointment at the sight of Steve Jobs proudly presenting to the world... a $500 Etch-a-Sketch? Maybe. If there were a word for "the sound of a muted trumpet comically playing a descending series of notes," or for those who prefer onomatopoeia, the "mwah-wah-wah-waaaah," I'd choose that one instead.
Apple will likely recover from the iPad's initial tepid reception, and Jobs and Co. might even sell a few units. But I don't think the iPad will help Apple dominate the e-book market the way the iPod and iTunes have helped Apple own the digital music market. At best, it might fade into obscurity along with such not-so-big-hits as that Mac alternative for command-line-interace lovers, the Apple IIgs. At worst, it might earn a place in the Hall of Shame alongside such overpriced doorstops and paperweights as the Cube and the Newton.
As many detractors more practical than I have pointed out, the iPad is bigger and clunkier than an iPod Touch, but gives you hardly any more functionality. There's no multitasking, USB, or Adobe Flash support. And, unless you buy an optional keyboard dock, you'll find yourself typing away at a flat glass surface on your lap. Sounds like an ergonomic nightmare.
All these practical points aside, the fundamental reason the iPad feels like a failure is this: I'm just not feeling that sweet spark of attraction. Every successful Apple product, especially during the past 10 or 15 years, has always elicited a Kool-Aid-Man-like "Oh yeah!" from me.
The instant I first saw the iMac, iPod, and iPhone, I wanted to play with them. Minutes after playing with them, I wanted to take them home. And each of these category-redifining gadgets had so much character and personality, I almost felt like that attraction was mutual.
