My cellphone is a hot dog; what goes in to making it
should make me queasy and force me to pause a little bit.
With conflict gold and tin and tantalum and other stuff,
the innards of my smartphone give my conscience a rebuff.
Child labor, maybe slavery, are part and parcel, too.
But I’ve got to have my Samsung; what’s a fellow gonna do?
The taint is hard to swallow, when you know as much as this.
Technology grows smarter, but in ignorance there’s bliss . . .