i love my cell phone, but not, you know, in that way
UPDATE: Here are the ads I could find. Note the ambigous sex, or "ambisexterity" - my term, I should copyright it like Hilton - of the photos. Not the ad on the back of the New Yorker, though. They are not that kind of audiance, I guess. What is funny is that if you search, everyday, obsessively, as I have, for images from this ad campaign you only find more and more explicit photos of the actual motopebl, of this button or that button or the hinge mechanism and you find yourself drawn into a world of tech fetishists and cell phone collectors . . .
A group totally uninterested in and unphased by the ad campaign.
And you find one little image, the redheaded lovely, on the blog of a person tracking "gay vague" - their term, or maybe someone else's - images in corporate ad campaigns. Click on that image and you'll probably be able to find your way to their website.
About Hilton, femme feral, you know, she already has a brand as a last name, so maybe her interest in copyright is determined by heredity. Like, once your name becomes a brand name, you become biologically programmed with a desire to own language. Love your recent text madness. Maybe you should read that NYer article about the typeface fellow. I went to the Bodoni Museum once, a museum dedicated to the man who invented the Bodoni font.
And a final thought: at this critical juncture, my partner in crime has begun to call my cell phone the pickle phone because it is shaped like one. Making my phone more phallic than clammy . . .