The price-tag for this 3.5 inch touchscreen device is £150 — so pretty pricey for a landline phone, sure, but it's far from being the traditional dumb button-pusher.
Those "dumb" unsubscribe buttons mean that I have to go back to my e-mail program and look up which address they spammed, then go back to the Web page and paste it in.
The nation state has a dumb on-off button to grant or deny citizenship/asylum.
Who knows, maybe in a few years we'll all be like, "Man, buttons are dumb.
As quickly as you can push a button, messages both dumb and mean can cover the Internet like pond scum, clouding the murky waters of truth and destroying lives and careers.
That show is like a Ralph Bakshi cartoon, with Cramer yelling unintelligibly while manically clawing at buttons that deploy dumb, wet fart noises and alarms and trumpet voluntaries and such.
Recent releases like Container's LP on Spectrum Spools and Blanck Mass (Fuck Buttons' Benjamin John Power)'s Dumb Flesh are churning out violent, mechanical energy you'd be hard-pressed to find elsewhere; it's hardly surprising that at the end of a recent Vessel set, I turned around to see Björk head-banging behind me.
Imagine freeze-framing an infinite repeat button on all the terrible dumb stuff you say after a long whiff of amyl nitrate.
Though it's missing a "share" button, which in 2015 is just dumb.
Blanck Mass' palate on Dumb Flesh is analogous to that of Fuck Buttons, but left to his own (increasingly analog) devices, Power's work veers towards the tenebrous.
And the cursor movement keys at the very button of the keyboard are one of the dumbest things I've ever seen.
