So, I finally bit the bullet and got my first iPod-6th generation. I know, I know, I know, me, the Wizard of Gadgetry, Mr. Technorati, the King of Kewl ‘Toys’ didn’t have one until a few days ago. I guess it’s kind of like asking an extreme coffee connoisseur why they don’t just go to Starbucks.

As of September 2007, there have been 110 million of them sold worldwide. [Thank you, Mr. Jobs!] including one glossy perfect black 160-gig video model to this blogger, over which I sufficiently ooh-ed and ahh-ed and petted and grinned and sighed and wondered why the hell the black ones still comes with white earbuds [come on, Steve!!!]

Because the iPod now does video [no comment, Tom about my Bittorrents!], podcasts and pictures and it plays [mother-of-the-year] Britney Spears new CD, Blackout at deep ear-massaging levels, and it does calendars and alarm clocks and games and the hilarious Tiki Bar TV, and did I mention the accessories and the accessories and the accessories.

Because the iPod does everything you want it to do it doesn’t do nearly enough. It is perfect but deeply flawed. It is immaculately conceived but lacking in countless vital functions. You have many untapped needs. You have countless unfulfilled experiences. The iPod is so good, you cannot help but wish it would go much, much further.

A few things that I wish the iPod could do…

1) I can see no reason why I should not be able to set iPod to automatically delete any photos in which I look overweight or like my father, (sorry Dad!). You’d think this feature would be, you know, obvious.

2) Your thumb can travel all around iPod’s sensual touch wheel and scroll through all the menus but you still will find no command that instructs iPod to tell you to stop eating after 8:00 p.m. or to push back the plate when you’re full. It cannot tap into my body, tell me what would provide balm for the odd pain in my shoulder. IPod is a lousy health guide. A design oversight? We shall see.

3) Unfortunately, iPod is unable to detect, even at its most subtle adjustments and even with the Sound Check feature enabled, the actual level of immeasurable vileness of lying politicians. That said, in independent tests, iPod reportedly fails to play any song even remotely joyous or upbeat or sexy in the presence of any of these rabid hunks of tainted political meat, thus reinforcing the wonderful truism that elegance and beauty will, in fact, refuse to perform in the vicinity of hot, quivering evil.

4) IPod, as yet, cannot quite calm an overemotional 3-1/2 year old, explain why he might suddenly, without prompting, burst into tears and/or song, or help him interpret why the world doesn’t work in the fashion he wants it to. Is this too much to ask?

5) Interestingly, you can try to turn iPod’s volume way up in a vain attempt to block out the sound of said spouse yelling terrified comments at you regarding how you almost got both of you killed by weaving through traffic, but it still doesn’t make her forget how much you love an adrenaline rush every now and then. Unfortunately, iPod is, so far, lousy at relationship negotiation.

6) I wish for iPod to be sitting next to me on my desk, riding alongside me in my car, resting comfortably in my bag and I should hear a delightful, ethereal chime and look over and see, on the gorgeous crystal display, a line of text, of instruction, of clear advice. “Invest 10 grand in Google stock today.” “That funny growth on your back is totally benign.” “Your other sock is behind the couch.” “You are totally right about the nature of God.” “Drink more water, stop thinking about sex, and here’s a great idea for a new book.” That sort of thing.

7) You want to rub iPod on face. To clutch iPod to chest as you sleep. To rub iPod all over body, especially in places which might be tending to sag, peel, wrinkle, droop, pale, smell, deflate, bruise, smooch, hiss, blur, wilt, tilt, shake, deteriorate, depreciate, demotivate, flap, spasm, shed, weaken or drool. IPod should be the rejuvenator of flesh. IPod the fountain of youth, constantly renewing itself through newer and cooler models you cannot possibly keep up with without going insane.

Finally, iPod should be — and hell, maybe it is — the eraser of time, the levitator of spirit, the perfect link to calm intergalactic knowledge that there is indeed far, far more to all of this whirling blue dot and this sagging pink flesh than your meek 4-billion-song-capacity brain can possibly comprehend. After all, isn’t this what all our finest arts, our deepest creations, our most brazen gizmos are meant to do, to reassure, to provide some solace, to remind us of our link to the Great Mystery?

That, and automatically delete any and all traces of Celine Dion? You’re damned right it is.

Thoughts, comments, let me know what you think.