A couple of weeks ago, my colleague Matt Richtel — a handsome devil if ever there was one — spoke truth to power. He said the thing that no one was saying, yet needed to be said. Here it is in a nutshell:

For all its abilities and powers, the iPhone is a tremendous pocket computer, but a lousy phone.

And he’s absolutely right. I’ve owned an iPhone 3G since Christmas, and I could add my voice to the growing angry chorus. See, before I was with Apple and AT&T, I was a Verizon customer for years. And I don’t know what it’s like where you live, but here in 212/718, you can’t swing a cat and not hit a big, strapping band of CDMA frequency. Verizon has New York in a wireless headlock.

Switching to an iPhone, I immediately noticed the difference. My office? Don’t even — I get nothing there. At home? Better, but not quite the same. And dead spots all over the place. At any time, I can (and do) lose a call.

But then I realized something. AT&T and Apple have given me a gift.

The promise of ubiquitous communication has also been its peril. With the iPhone, I have something that can cut out, that can drop a call, that can miss a voicemail. This is like gold in my hand: My ability to duck, shirk and hide has been restored.

“What’s that? You called me three times already? Sorry, man — got an iPhone.”

(That sound you just heard? That’s the sound of freedom, baby. Glorious, dissembling freedom.)