This is what I usually see when I push the home screen button on my phone–my darling grand babies, the closest little people to my heart in the world. Seeing their happy faces makes the unrelenting pounding of technology a little easier for me to deal with.

Imagine my surprise, then, when a few weeks ago, I hit the home screen button on my phone and instead saw a bare-chested man crouching and holding another bare-chested man around the waist. I almost screamed and dropped the phone. In fact, I’m pretty sure I did scream, and probably let loose with a few words that will not be repeated here.

As if to add insult to injury, my phone then began playing music. Music that I did not like. I furiously started smacking buttons in the hope of shutting the entire thing down, to no avail. The assault eventually ended, on its own time, when my babies mercifully reappeared.

For a minute, I thought I’d had a stroke, or some out of body experience giving me a glimpse of the Hell that awaits me if I don’t at least try and be a better person.

And then it realized that it was only U2.

That’s right, U2. As in the band. As in self-appointed guardian of the galaxy, Bono, and his musical(?) cronies. U2 had taken over my phone.

I do not like U2, anymore than I like green eggs and ham. I do not like them, Sam I am. I liked them even less when they decided it was okay, without my permission, to kidnap my grand babies and insert their new album cover picture of half-naked men on my phone while beating my eardrums with their music.

I know this is not entirely U2’s fault. They have obviously joined forces with the devil, who in my world is usually Comcast, but in this case is Apple. Since I have a smart phone, Apple gets to decide, when it signs gazillion dollar contracts with bands of questionable musical appeal, that I have to listen to them whenever they say I must.

All of you U2 fans can stop foaming at the mouth. You can like them, but I don’t have to, which is entirely the point. I don’t want U2, or anybody else, forced upon my ears. I especially don’t want them hijacking pictures of my grandchildren in an attempt to get me to buy their album.

Which I won’t. Ever. Even if there were a snowball’s chance in Hell (my father’s expression) of me enjoying any of U2’s music, I wouldn’t buy it now for spite. That’s right, spite. You’re not the boss of me, U2, and you can’t tell me what to do, so BACK OFF!

I know I won’t be able to stop Apple from taking control of my smart phone, which is clearly way smarter than me. But I can refuse to give in to their demands that I submit and put even more money in their coffers by buying stuff they try and force feed me.

There are seeds of a revolution here. Power to the People and all of that. Or at the very least, please U2, stay off of my phone.