“Push to speak” or “walkie-talkie” cellphones have replaced the shoulder-mounted boom box as the annoyance device of choice for teenagers. I can think of no other reason for owning one, other than the delight in the knowledge that you are pissing off every adult within earshot. Yesterday, at the 86th Street Barnes & Noble, some kid received five squawking “Where you at?” inbound calls during my 15 minutes in the store. I wanted to grab a copy of Mary Cheney’s book off the remaindered table and beat him with it. It occurs to me that I’ve never known a gay person to own one of these horrible phones and that gives me pride in my people.