Illustration for article titled Id Rather Fingerblast a Lamprey Than Use This tyPad iPad Keyboard Case

This piece of shit keyboard is so terrible it makes me want to just type the word "abortion" 1,000 times and then put my hands and testicles in a waffle iron.


The tyPad—that's what this slick wet waste of mother nature's bounty that I'm typing on is called, right?—has it so easy from me. I've been wanting an iPad case with an integrated keyboard in it since the iPad first got off the boat from China. Just put a decent keyboard in a decent case and I'd be


Every last thing about this case is terrible. I've seen film on the tops of oil drums more attractive than the thin black leatherette cut with the minimum amount of accuracy possible by some anonymous chain-smoking machine. There isn



There isn't even a snap or velcro to hold the iPad in place, just a little flap you tuck in behind the iPad along with a prayer to Jesus that your $500 tablet won't slip out onto the hard tiles. If you could somehow sneak in to a farm on a dark evening and replace a cow's skin with this stuff you'd be covered in an explosion of steaks and half-digested grass before you could take two steps out of the barn.

I could maybe live with that if the keyboard were even approaching usable. Do you know what they made the keyboard out of? Rubber. Rubber. Not a rubber-coated proper keyboard but a frustrating weeble-wobble mush that forces you to plant every keystroke with the dainty precision of a quadriplegic seal doing a cockstand on a beach ball.

Worse the keys are tiny and there
s no


Everyone involved in the creation, production, and distribution of the tyPad in any of its incarnations—because you can bet your ass that this weeping polyp of human endeavor is being being bought for $5 and resold for $50 by half-a-dozen companies willing to sell iPad accessories so wretched that to presume that anyone could be happy using them is to package and ship the baldest lie since ribbed condoms—should set their dust-covered tyPad on fire and pour the burning slag down their blistering gullets and choke on the melted, purulent dreams of a Chinese factory worker.


JESUS $130 dollars!




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