Dumbing Down the House

My coffee maker died the other day. It had been making these peculiar spitting and hissing noises for awhile, but the other morning it erupted in a geyser of steam and coffee grounds which spewed out of the top like Old Faithful while making a sound which was a cross between a supersonic jet throwing it's thrusters in reverse, and a gazelle being taken to the ground by a 600 pound lion. Then, it's poor LEDs slowly faded and that was that. So, I set out to purchase a new one. Knowing next to nothing about coffee makers, I did what most people in this situation do; I purchased the one with the glossiest photo on the box. Which turned out to the the Itchy-Scratchy model 3500 XLE Super Turbo Charged Coffee Processing and Brewing Station. And - it was on sale. For only $129.95. Had I taken a few minutes to check the consumer reviews for this model, I would have known that it got one-eighth of a star (out of five) in the "ease of use" category. But, no, I had to have my coffee.

This thing has a "bean processor" mode. You pour coffee beans into the top and a little mechical arm skewers each bean lengthwise, and holds it up to a little window so you can see three tiny micro-drills lower from each side and the back and slowly pulverize the bean into "fine", "extra-fine", or "microscopic" coffee. It has an "audio alert" feature which plays one of nine different tunes when your coffee is done; from On Top of Old Smokey to Baby Got Back. My first clue that I'd made an unwise purchase was when I attempted to set the clock. It had four options: standard time, military time, Greenwich Mean Time, or Swatch Beats. And the program mode. According to the manual, in order to set the Coffee Processing and Brewing Station to brew a pot of coffee at some point in the future, you had to "press and hold the PROGRAM button, while quickly tapping the PRESET button and gently pushing the MODE slider to the right". I thought I had successfully set this thing to brew a pot of coffee at seven am, but it's been three days, and so far - nothing. I take that back - it did play Stayin' Alive at some point yesterday afternoon.

These new household appliances have just gotten too complicated. Take my stereo for example. It has an "auto-pre-scan-select" mode, which will - allegedly - scan for all the radio stations the unit is able to receive and number them one to 65,536. I didn't think there were 65,636 radio stations in the entire world. But, in order to use the "auto-pre-scan-select" mode, one has to press and hold eleven buttons for a minimum of 3.8 seconds. So, whenever our power goes out, we have to have the neighbors come over and help us get it re-programmed.

And remotes. Don't get me started on the remotes. At last count, we had 23, of which some don't seem to work with anything in the house. One for example, has the inscription "Goldofenwicz" across the bottom. It has a whopping 93 buttons on it, some of which are labeled "comp", "sinewave", "sawtooth", "sync" and "N-SYNC".

Even our floor-standing, oscillating fan has a remote control, with which one can turn it on and off, select the speed, and direction, and toggle the oscillation on or off. Oh, it also has a sleep timer. A fan. With a remote control. To be precise, I should say I used to have such a fan. But, in one of those moments that only appear incredibly stupid upon reflection, I wanted to see what would happen if I pressed and held all the buttons at the same time. All I can say is: don't do it. This one took flight, flew around the room for a minute or so, (buzzing the bed twice in the process), began gyrating wildly like a helicopter with a broken anti-torque rotor, then slammed into the wall.

So if, like me, you actually believed that one day you'd live in a "home of the future" with all those one-touch, set-it-and-forget-it appliances like in the Jetsons, all I can tell you is I'm still waiting. In the meantime, I think I'll run down to the Quik-E-Mart. For a cup of coffee.

Phrases That Have No Meaning

You ever hear someone utter a phrase and wonder: What the hell is that supposed to mean? Then you'll hear someone else utter the same phrase, and it dawns on you: This is another one of those things that have become popular, but has no meaning whatsoever. Like Samantha Ronson's blog, or the latest fad diet, or the "Who's Searching For You?" ads. I don't know about you, but every time I hear someone say something that has no meaning I want to come back with something like "gummy bear tent stake", or "eye-twitch loofa", just to see if it'll catch on. So far, no luck. But, following are several phrases I say we just retire until someone figures out what exactly they're supposed to mean:

You need to own that
Popularized during the spate of so-called reality TV shows that have become the scourge of American "culture" over the past few years, this particular nonsensical phrase was likely first uttered during a competition of some kind; cooking or runway modeling, or elbow macaroni art. Likely as not, one of the "judges" from this particular competition didn't feel that the contestant used enough glitter paint on their elbow macaroni sailboat. Had they used the correct amount of glitter paint, they would, in the judge's eyes, have come to "own" the art of creating an elbow macaroni sailboat, or so one assumes.

"This" is the new "that"
As in, pink is the new black, sixty is the new forty, vodka is the new champagne. Well, I have a news flash for you: Pink is pink and black is black; sixty is sixty and forty is forty; vodka is vodka and champagne is champagne. Deal with it.

Old school
Purportedly means something that was done differently at some point in the past. Okay, I get that part. But, why old school? Why not old street corner, old shopping mall, Old Yeller? It just makes no sense.

Back in the day
Back in what day? Yesterday was a day. And so was Thursday before last, and so was November 23rd, 1973. Exactly what day does this absurd phrase refer to?

No-brainer
Supposedly meaning something that is so simple even a person without a brain could figure it out. And, this phrase would almost make sense, except that the opposite of a no-brainer would have to be a brainer, which I assume means something that requires a person with a brain to figure out... You see where I'm going with this?

Save the date
Quick! Somebody, save the date! The date is in trouble! Oh, won't somebody please help that poor date?

My bad
Your bad what? Your bad grammar? Your bad teeth? Your bad choice of words?

Value-added
Supposedly, if I am in the business of selling, let's say, popsicle-stick birdhouses, and before I package these birdhouses for shipment I hold each one up to my ear and listen for a few seconds as if it were a conch and I could hear the chirping of tiny, yet-unborn sparrows, I have added value to the product. Supposedly. In reality, I have done nothing but waste time. That's the best analogy for this shop-worn cliche I could come up with. Value-added is a phrase the business community has invented to justify charging more for a product or service. In reality, it should be called cost-added, but the marketing department shot that one down.

Comfort foods
Ask ten people the definition of comfort food, and you'll get ten different answers. Why? That's right - the term has no meaning! Your comfort food is whatever you like. Personally, I think comfort food should mean the most comfortable food to sleep on, if for whatever reason you didn't have a bed. In that case, I'd have to go with Twinkies.

Your call is very important to us
This, of course, is what you hear when you've been on hold for 47 mintues trying to get through to a "customer service" person. The sad fact is, your call is not at all important to these "customer service" people, as they wish more than anything that you would just hurry up and have a massive coronary and die.

The Five Worst Things About Getting Older

Well, it's July again. And, if this were an even-numbered year, I'd be getting ready to celebrate my birthday. But, since I only celebrate every other year (see previous post, 2008: A Blurry Retrospective), it's just another hot mid-July day. Which is fine with me, as I'm noticing that lately people are starting to treat me like an "old person". Just the other day, I asked a neighbor to borrow his ladder. "Sure" he says. A few minutes later he arrives with the ladder. And a chainsaw. See, he knew why I wanted to borrow the ladder, as there was a branch I had mentioned wanting to cut from a tree in my backyard. I set the ladder up, and reach for the chainsaw. "Uh", he says, "why don't I just climb up and lop it off for you?" And, before I could say anything, he's up the ladder, fired up the chainsaw and cut down the branch. "Thanks", I say, then - under my breath - "I could have done it".

Don't get me wrong - getting older is certainly preferable to the alternative. But, I find myself wanting to just scream, "Hey, I'm not that old! I'm fine. I do not need help getting up out of the chair, I can still cut my own meat, and I am fully capable of climbing the stairs myself! And - stop yelling. I'm not deaf!"

It's just as well I'm not celebrating a birthday this year, as I can just imagine the "gifts" I'd receive: a bottle of Geritol, a subscription to AARP the Magazine, and a "Magic Ear". Oh, and a pair of fire engine red suspenders, because as everyone knows, once you reach a certain age your pants mysteriously fall down around your ankles every time you stand up.

Which brings me to the Five Worst Things About Getting Older:

5 - No one will let you do anything for yourself anymore, for fear that you'll "strain your back", or "break something", or "cut your arm off".
4 - Cashiers and waitresses constantly ask if you want the "Senior Discount", except you're not old enough to actually qualify for their #@^*&! senior discount.
3 - Other drivers cut you a wide berth when they see you coming.
2 - You start getting coupons in the mail for Depends.

And the absolute worst thing about getting older:

1 - Every time you pass a young child, you hear them tell their Mother that "Santa Claus has really let himself go".

Well, enough rambling for one day. I've already missed the first five minutes of Barnaby Jones.