I really don't know if anyone has a need for this other than me. But I've built this app a few times for myself in the past, so last night I finally took the initiative to make it generic and reusable - both for my future self and anyone else who might find it useful.
It’s called BespokeApp. It’s a simple iOS app that gives you a tabbed web browser with the pre-defined websites of your choosing.
One night last June we managed to get the kids to bed early and decided to rent a movie from iTunes. About forty-five minutes in, our youngest throws up, the oldest starts screaming because of the smell, and all hell breaks loose. Movie night over.
For us, that’s when the spell broke. For seven years we played by the rules. So I walked from the couch to my office iMac, visited an old favorite website of ill repute, and ten minutes later streamed the move in 4K to our TV.
That one evening re-opened the piracy floodgates for us, and we haven’t bought or rented another TV show or movie since.
I'll keep this post short because there's really nothing more of substance I can add to this argument that many developers and pundits way smarter than myself haven't already said.
But I suppose it's flaring up again in the community because of the hey.com controversy, the recent developer survey Apple sent out (my less polite response from last year), and WWDC looming next week.
From my point of view this is all very simple:
The App Store opened eleven years, eleven months, and seven days ago. It is not a game. It is literally the livelihood of millions of people.
The 30% shakedown has never been justified other than "we can".
The capricious and inconsistent review process has never been explained other than "no comment".
With all the awfulness and urgency in the world right now; and with all the good Apple truly is doing, it feels like a waste of precious attention and resources to complain about the App Store. But, hey, that's business.
Antitrust.
Now.
And so now I think about not just all the photos and videos - but the 65,234 comments across 16,752 items we've shared. (How do I know those exact numbers? I'll tell you in a minute.) Each one may be insignificant by itself. But combined? They represent 2,596 days of shared family history.
And when I think about losing the post she made about our newborn son in the hospital? Or the one she commented on last week? Only because there's no way to get access to that trove of data? It breaks my heart.
Shortly into quarantine at the beginning of March, I realized I had a problem. My iMac has too many audio devices, and managing them was becoming a pain in the ass. And it was all because working full-time at home again, in this new age of frequent work video meetings, Slack and Discord calls, and dealing with two young, screaming kids with no school to attend, created a perfect storm of audio requirements.
So I did what I always end up doing, and wrote the app I wanted for myself.
