So saith the New York Times.
I grew up in a world where Sundays meant at least three hours of church, a mediocre spaghetti dinner, and long stretches of afternoon quiet: no television, no buying, no playing outside, no swimming—not even in our backyard pool under the perfect 80 degree Southern California skies.
Observant mainstream Mormons still keep the Sabbath this way, pretty much.
Except for the phones. The magic phones with their swirling screens. The digital anti-morphine pump. The twenty-first century cigarette.
A friend recently told me that at her local shul, the rabbi was handing out little Shabbat sleeping bags for iPhones.
Find your iPhone sleeping bag here (fabricated of hemp, and imprinted in soy ink with neo-sabbatarian manifesto).
And maybe, just maybe, if we all unplug, God will deliver us from British Petroleum and Glenn Beck.
