Last week I wrote about my brother pulling the telephonic rug out from under me. Or to put it in plain English — he kicked me off his family cellphone plan.

Actually, I just indulged in something I rarely do — hyperbole. In truth he didn’t kick me off the plan — Verizon did.

It was nothing personal — they kicked off everyone with a 3G phone. But even though that was Democracy in Action on their behalf, it was no consolation to me, since it left me without both a cellphone and a clue. For sure, I’d get another cell phone, but I had zero idea what kind of phone and where I’d get it.

The issue wasn’t the lack of options; it was the PLETHORA of them. Holy Moly! There are at least as many cellphones and cellphone plans as there are Baby Boomers who now claim to have been at Woodstock. Which if you love having an infinite number of choices is great. Which I don’t.

It’s like me and coffee. Used to be you had two choices — regular or decaf. Period. Now? You’ve got more choices than Carter has little pills — liver or otherwise. Cafe au lait … cortado … espresso (single or double) … Americano … mocha … macchiato …

And no longer is there just milk or half and half. Uh-uh. Now, due to the wonders of modern marketing (and chemistry too, I’m sure) there are the creamer flavors — vanilla, chocolate, caramel, hazelnut, peppermint, etc. There’s also soy milk, almond milk, fat-free half and half and organic cream.

Sweeteners? There is sugar, like in the old days (and brown sugar and golden sugar, of course). But the white stuff has apparently become passe, knocked out of the box by all sorts of artificial sweeteners, and even some natural ones. The two most popular natural sweetener substitutes for sugar are blue agave and stevia. Both of them taste like doo-doo to me, but whatta I know?

The whole coffee scene is so confusing to me that I expect sometime I’ll be in a city, will pop into a Starbucks and order a plain cup of black coffee. And when I do, suddenly a bell will ring, a huge light display will come on that says “Black Coffee!” — with an arrow pointing to me, and everyone in the joint will burst into hysterical, pants-wetting laughter.

And it’s the same with me and cellphones. You can get every function, option and app known to humankind — and probably a bunch of unknown ones as well. And of course there’s a universe of plans to go with them.

But all I want is a flip phone I can talk on and the simplest plan imaginable. Because here’s the deal with me and my cellphone: I almost never use it. Or if I use it, it’s only in a pinch, since the rest of the time it’s in my car, turned off and ignored until actually needed. I have a computer and landline, so I can use them when I’m home. And when I’m not home, I prefer to live in what we used to naively call “The Real World,” instead of being plugged into The Great Cyber Omphalos.

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Angel 1

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So if the cellphone scene confuses me so badly, how could I ever manage to find a replacement for my old one?

Luckily, I didn’t have to, because one found me.

After last week’s column hit the stands, an angel reached out to me. Perhaps an incongruous one, as far as angels go, but close enough for my theological leanings. He’s an old-time pal whose street name is Tom Roberts.

Tom emailed me saying he had a brand spanking new Verizon flip phone he’d GIVE me! And if that ain’t Deus Ex Machina, I don’t know what is.

The back story is his dad, like me, had had an ancient 3G flip phone that of course went the way of the Russian aristocracy, and Tom got him this one as a replacement. But for various reasons, his dad didn’t like it, so Tom, being the dutiful son he is, found him a Tracfone he DID like. Which left that first phone dying of loneliness and suffocation in the bottom of a junk drawer. After Tom dusted it off, he emailed me and said I could stop over pick it up anytime.

I mulled over his offer for quite a while — maybe 4 or 5 seconds. Then I emailed back and told him to stay right where he was and I’d be over hasto-pronto, which I was. After he handed me the phone, he, his wife Diane, and I chatted about this and that for a bit, and then I headed out to deal with Phase II.

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Angel 2

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Phase II was of course finding a cellphone plan. Once again, I was hopelessly lost, and once again, an improbable angel came to my rescue. This time it was my bestie, Kookie.

The Kook is someone of vast and varied interests, a lot of which can be considered “muy alternativo.” At one time or another, she’s studied past life regression, crystal healing, ESP, auras, Kirilian photography, tarot, I Ching, and many others. But here’s the thing: While she likes to dabble in esoteric realms, she’s neither an easy mark or a true believer. Instead, while she’ll explore other-worldly disciplines, she does so with detachment and objectivity. In short, no one’s gonna gonna sell her a load of bumpf — or a Ouija Board either.

And when it comes to getting things done, knows exactly how to get from point A to B and then to Z, with no distractions or detours. So who better to figure out my cell phone plan dilemma? No one, that’s who!

I knew she had a Tracfone and was on a Tracfone plan, which she’d chosen after a lot of research, so I figured maybe that’d be my best option too. But, as has too often been the case in my life, I figured wrong.

I called her, told her I now had a new flip phone but no plan, and essentially threw myself on her mercy.

“The phone is Verizon?” she said.

“Yep,” I said.

A long moment passed and I could almost hear her wheels turning.

“OK, got it,” she said.

“And what’s your decision?” I said.

“Go to the Verizon store and get their cheapest plan,” she said.

“But doesn’t Tracfone have cheaper plans?”

“Maybe,” she said. “But whatta you care? So you spend an extra hundred bucks a year. Big deal.”

“Makes sense,” I said.

“Plus the store is in town,” she said. “All you have to do is walk in, tell ’em you want the cheapest deal they have, and they’ll set you up, on the spot.”

“Also makes sense,” I said.

“Something else,” she said. “You have any problems with the phone or the plan, you can get them to help you. You don’t need to go online and wade through that mess.”

“Also makes sense,” I said.

“And something else makes ever more sense.”

“What’s that?” I said.

“That if you go to the Verizon store and get their plan, I won’t hafta read every plan in God’s green earth to make a decision for you.”

Before I had a chance to reply, she went on.

“Because let’s face it, Bobolinski,” she said, “After you plead helplessness, and beg me to help you, that’s EXACTLY what’d happen.”

“You think I’d take advantage of you like that?” I said.

“Only if you could get away with it,” she said. “Which in this case, you can’t.”

Then, before I could say anything, she hung up.

Of course, I did exactly what she told me — went to the Verizon store, where the whiz-kids there set me up in the blink of an eye.

So now I have my new cellphone, my new phone plan, and the renewed belief in a Mark Twain quote that has guided me through my 75-plus years.”

The quote is this: “Never learn to do anything. If you don’t learn, you’ll always find someone else to do it for you.”

And to that I say a big Amen.