"Consider the utopian ideal presented by the iPod and all its disciples: your own badass self, hilariously uncomfortable 'ear bud' headphones jammed into your head, with 5,000 of your favorite songs dumped into a cigarette-pack-size computer set on 'shuffle' so you can veer erratically from King Tubby to King's X to King Missile's 'Detachable Penis' as you pick up the dry cleaning. Radio has failed you. Portable CD players limited you. But now you're an all-powerful DJ, with the single most dangerous item in your home -- your CD collection -- in the palm of your hand." Rob Harvilla has a pop at the portable music phenomenon at New Times.