Category House and Home

Too Much of a Good Thing

Michael Leave a comment

Don’t you just love it when one of life’s questions finally gets answered?  When that thing that has never been at the forefront of thought but always hovering around the subconscious is finally resolved? When you can finally say, “Oh, yeah.”

Both of We have three children.  All three of the Little We’s are in their 20’s, gainfully if not ideally employed, with their own cars, clothes, gym memberships, monthly bills, and spending money.  Three children, two families, one burning life’s question.  Do we do too much for our children?  Sit back and let us tell you She of We’s story.

Number Two Son of She was at the airport.  Just a matter of days ago he was flying west to embark on a weekend away as young ones are now so inclined to do to visit strange cities where the strange inhabitants have a curious habit of dying their river a strange green.  But that’s a tale for a different day.  This one begins and ends at the airport.  Our airport.  The departing city.

This story began several trips ago that Number Two Son of She takes with some regularity.  They are almost always by plane and almost always end up with him missing the last leg of his journey leaving whoever (three guesses) was assigned to collect him at the local airport stranded at the airport.  But it was a habit and one that that seemed would forever end with whomever (three guesses) stranded at the airport or waiting for the call that he is finally about to board a plane home and would be there sometime within the hour or two.  So it wasn’t that He of We would not have expected Son of She to be calling She of We, but not so soon.

But sooner rather than later the call did come and with it came our life’s question, do we do too much for our children. A call that began sort of innocently with a seeming innocent question.  Did She of We have Son of She’s spare car key?  No, but why?

It seemed that after years of explaining, rationalizing, cajoling, complaining, and persuading, She of We convinced Son of She to drive himself to the airport and deposit his car in one of the long term parking lots ($8.00 per day, no hourly rate).  So convinced was Son of She that he actually discovered another traveler among his friends to the very same destination for the very same duration and offered him a ride to and from the airport.  Presumably for the low price of $4.00 per day.  No hour rate.  And off for the airport they set, their sights set on the gate labeled Extended Parking.  They must have not set their sights so high as to see the overhead sign not reading Extended Parking, rather they entered the parking mecca at the gate labeled Short Term Parking ($2.50 per hour, maximum daily rate $25.00).

Yes, he finally was convinced.  Son of She, finally convinced that he could drive himself to the airport did just so, and shortly after his arrival there made the call to She of We.  It was the call from the airport relating this very tale.  But the tale was not told just for its entertainment value.  It concluded with a request for her to drive 20-some miles to the airport with his spare key so that she could move his car into one of the long term lots that she had so often spoke of. And shortly thereafter was the call from She of We to He of We with that question, do we do too much for our children?

Do we?  Daughter of He still lives at home in the very room she shared with her childhood stuffed animals.  And is still sharing.  Number One Son of She resides in a second house of hers that could be rental income but is serving much better as Son Cave as he manages his own growing contracting company.  Number Two Son of She recently purchased his own house, able to convince the mortgager that he was good for it because he is one of the gainfully employed, his gainful employment at the favor calling of She of We who realized long before he what kind of job he would otherwise land with an undergraduate political science degree.

And still they ask.  And still do we.  Do we do too much for our children?  For the record, She of We did not make that journey yet we still wonder.  And we wonder that it is a wonder that someone thought it was quite reasonable even just to ask.  And there probably is the answer.  Maybe.  Possibly. Sort of.

Now, that’s what we think. Really. How ‘bout you?

Springing Forward

Michael Leave a comment

We’re going away this weekend.  We’d love to be going to a South Pacific island, inhabited or not, but we’re only going about 200 miles from where we are and that’s covered in snow right now.

We’ve been looking forward to this weekend since early December.  Maybe earlier.  Before you get ahead of us, we’ve not been planning our little weekend gateway some 200 miles from here since early December.  But we have been looking forward to this weekend since then.  Why?  Daylight Saving Time begins.  This Sunday at 2:00 am, as if by magic, it will become 3:00am.  That means where it will be dark at 6:30 this evening will be light at 6:30 Sunday evening.  No longer will we have to go to work and come home in the dark.  Maybe
one or the other but not both. So what if it only lasts until November 3.  We can’t wait.

People respond positively to light.  We live better with light, we live longer with light, we’re happier with light.  There are studies to prove all that.  The most convincing study is us.  We’re sick of it turning dark before we’ve even pulled dinner out of the oven.  Heck, there are some days that we’re sick of it turning dark before we’ve even pulled the car out of the garage at work.  We need light.  We crave light.  We love light.

Maybe that’s a little melodramatic but you get the idea.  We like light.  Apparently so did Benjamin Franklin who first proposed the idea although it was some hundred and twenty years later before it was accepted and began to take hold across the world.  It was never accepted without some controversy.  Controversial or not, we do better with more light in the evening than in the morning.  Eventually the morning will catch up anyway.

If people don’t universally accept Daylight Saving Time, we understand.  It was well into the 1890’s before there was even any sort of standard time in the United Sates and that was invoked by the railroads that insisted on keeping to a schedule.  Before that, whatever time was on the church steeple or the front of the bank or on some other prominent clock around town was whatever time it was around town.  Eventually people got used to the idea of there being some sort of time standard.  Eventually they’ll come around to our way of thinking that more light in the evening is a good thing.

But there is just one problem.  We’re going away this weekend.  Because we’ll be setting our clocks ahead an hour on Sunday morning we’re going to lose an hour of our mini-vacation.  We’ve had some pretty rough weeks at work lately and can really use the time off.  Do you think we can convince the hotel to push check out time forward an hour as well?  We can use all the hours off that we can get.

Now, that’s what we think. Really. How ‘bout you?

The Happiest Place in the World

Michael 5 Comments

With our most sincere apologies to Walt Disney, the Disney parks together or separately are not the happiest place on — well, they have it copyrighted so you might think it’s so or else how could they, but we really don’t think so.

We have been thinking about happy places and where the happiest place in the world is.  We asked some friends and relatives, and some who are both where their happiest places might be.  We got beaches, favorite vacation spots, fabulous restaurants, designer shops, and even not yet invented places.  All good choices and all somebodies’ happy places.  But not universal.  One man’s beach may be another’s sun burn spot.  The jeweler who boasts the happiest place two days before Valentine’s Day may be someplace entirely different the weekend after.  A designer bag coup for one could be a mark of arrogance to another.  And while life-size Snow Whites and Gastons may be awe inspiring to certain youngsters, others may cower at the sight at a six foot tall mouse or a Pooh who is big enough to hold the young one cradled in his arms at night.

Happy places all perhaps.  But happy places to all?  Not on your life.

You must suspect by now that we have someplace particular in mind.   We do.  No, it’s not one of our vacation spots nor a favorite getaway location.  It has almost nothing to do with fabulous purchases that may be the envy of most who we will meet in a morning elevator ride to the office.  It’s not a specific spot in nature nor a non-specific spot where they do unnaturally good things to some favorite foods.  Nope, it’s none of those.  Where in the world could it possibly be?  It’s the dollar store!

Yes, the dollar store must be the happiest place in the world.  Not one of the imitation dollar stores that are dollar stores only because they have the world “dollar” in their store name.  Copyrighted or otherwise.  We mean the real dollar stores, the ones where everything’s a dollar, every item, every day, every trip.  Where 5 dollars buys five items (tax extra).  Where there are no express lines because no one can buy twelve items or less in a trip around those aisles.  Where there are things that haven’t been seen on retail shelves since – well, since the last dollar store stocked up.

How did we come to this conclusion?  We were recently in need of a couple of gift bags.  All things being equal, all gift bags are equal.  After years of unscientific research we have come to the conclusion that the $1.00 gift bags found in the dollar store are the same color, construction, volume, and with the same rope handles as the $6.99 national card store gift bags.  So to the dollar store we went, armed with the color and style of the bags we wanted and a twenty dollar bill for all the other stuff we’d find there. 

We pulled up in front of our local dollar store, just a spot or two away from the door.  As we were undoing our seat belts and planning our shopping strategy, we noticed several shoppers coming out of the store.  Not a single one was empty-handed.  Not a single child was being warned to wait until they got home.  Not a single shopper was not broad faced smiling, content in the knowledge that bargains had been had that evening.  Bargains indeed, and every one of the a dollar.

Once inside the magic continued.  There was not one screaming child.  Why should there be?  If a child wants a carrot colored and shaped baseball bat there is one hanging prominently on the wall.  Give it to the kid.  After all, it’s only a dollar.  There was not one couples complaint.  If he wants a 16 ounce tumbler and she wants the red wine goblet, get them both.  A set of 4 each will still return you change from your 10 dollar bill.  Can’t decide between the St. Patrick’s Day shamrock head band and the Easter Bunny ears for the family pooch?  Don’t decide, get ’em both.  And don’t fret that the doggie usually makes dinner out of one or the other.  They’re only a dollar!

We tell you now, the proof is in.  The happiest place in the world isn’t inhabited by six foot tall mice.  The happiest place in the world is your local dollar store! (Does anybody have change for a fifty?  There are some limits to happiness.)   

Now, that’s what we think. Really. How ‘bout you?

Mutts That Matter

Michael Leave a comment

Were you one of the 17 bazillion people who watched the Westminster Kennel Club dog show on television this week?  We haven’t seen the actual ratings figures but it seems that at least everybody in the United States watched it.  At the very least, everybody either of us has spoken with over the past couple of days had watched it.  Why not?  Dogs are cute.  Two nights of dogs strutting their way around Madison Square Garden in the doggie version of Project Runway is indeed must see TV. 

While glued to the set for those two nights we learned a lot.  The Labrador Retriever, even though geographically challenged and originated in Newfoundland rather than Labrador, is the most popular AKC breed in the United States.  There are about 11,000 Labs registered here.  Very impressive numbers.  But the large breed was not wearing the blue ribbon when the show was over.  That went to the diminutive Affenpinscher, the breed’s first win at Westminster, beating out 2,500 entries.

There is a local animal shelter just about a mile away from He of We.  We have stopped by often to drop off a donation, ogle at the pets, or adopt a dog.  That particular shelter has adopted out over 2,500 animals last year, more than were entered the Westminster show.  About half were dogs.  That’s just one shelter.  If 11,000 registered Labs makes that breed the number one breed in the country, think of how many of America’s really most favorite dog, the Shelter Pup, there are out there.  We think they deserve a show also.

It would be a bit different from the AKC sanctioned events.  Since 80% of the dogs adopted from shelters are mixed breeds you couldn’t have standards and conformity judged.  But you could judge fun, energy, intelligence, and affection. Picture this, a round of pound puppies march around Madison Square Garden and The Cutest into the finals.  Another round of scraggly scruffies now takes center stage and The Ugliest is selected.  Other rounds pick out the Hairiest, the Baldest, the Best Trick, the Longest Nap, and the Best Dog Kisser.  Each of these seven “Group Winners” now moves on to the Best We Know final round!

Here audience participation is not only encouraged, it’s mandatory!  The crowd cheers as each group winner marches around the stage,  past the TV cameras that flash the four leggers strutting their stuff onto the Jumbotrons  And out of these, the one with the loudest crowd approval wins the coveted Blue Ribbon, a lifetime supply of Milk Bones, and the title of Mutts That Matter, the Best We Know. 

Now that’s puppy love!

Now, that’s what we think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

5 x 2,000 = 0

Michael Leave a comment

It was an okay start to the weekend.  It was cold and there was a call for some snow.  But by the time Both of We were in the same house, about 2 inches of that snow had fallen and the other 3 or 4 that was coming was coming quickly.  It seemed, even though there were more than a few destinations to where we could have headed, the sofa and a television would do just fine for this weekend.

When we turned on the set one of the first sights we saw was a commercial for one of the satellite TV programmers’ DVR that can record up to 2,000 hours without losing a single digit out of all those digital files.  Shortly after that was a commercial for another satellite provider’s DVR package that allows you to record up to 5 programs at the same time.  Clearly those guys have more to pick from that the 1,100 channels we had at our remote fingertips.

It’s the time between the Academy Award nominations and the Academy Award recognitions so every channel that had anything among its offerings remotely movie-like would be running Oscar Month specials.  We saw promos for the best movie ever coming to a TV near you before this year’s glittery statuettes are awarded.  Unfortunately it’s hard to get the programmers from American Movie Classics, Turner Classic Movies, Arts and Entertainment, TruTV, Disney, History, BET, Comedy Central, and the Golf Channel to agree on the best movie ever.

We did watch one network’s offering of its idea of the best movie ever (we disagreed) and sometime during the weekend we also watched a couple hockey games, some cooking shows on PBS and on commercial television, WipeOut, lots of syndicatedtwenty-year old situation comedies, a horrible horror film offered at midnight, news, the Puppy Bowl, another movie, and very unusual presentation of an early 1950’s recording of a full orchestra performing all Strauss, all the time.  No Super Bowl but we did watch the commercials on the Internet.

Neither of us has the requisite satellite provider to be able to record up to 2,000 hours of what we watched this weekend.  Fortunately we rarely watch 2,000 hours of television in one sitting.  (Does anybody realize that 2,000 hours of television at 4 hours of television watching per day every day is almost 11 months of TV?)  We tried to figure out what 5 shows we’d record all at the same time and decided we couldn’t find 5 shows that were playing all weekend that were on our “we can’t miss these at any cost” list. The only hour and the only show we might have considered wanting to record was maybe the Johann Strauss concert or possibly one of the cooking shows that had an interesting recipe for pizza dough that neither of us had seen before.  But then on further consideration we decided Strauss had too schizophrenic a style for us and we already have two favorite pizza shops that do it for us.

So it seems that the programmers, both computer and marketing, have managed to violate the Number One Rule of Inventions.  Just because you can, doesn’t mean that you should.   

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

Drive On

Michael 1 Comment

It’s been a few months now.  Actually it was last October.  It was then that we wrote the most recent installment of cars driving into buildings, a phenomenon happening so regularly we can’t miss it.  If you’re thinking you must have missed it, you didn’t.  We never got around to posting that one.  Something else more blogworthy must have come up.  Then we took another look at it and it and found something else instead. Then something else.  Then Thanksgiving.  Then Christmas.  Before we knew it, it have gotten moved into the “unposted” folder and just sat around. And since then we’ve actually not thought much at all about cars being driven willy and nilly into buildings.  Until yesterday. 

Oh buildings were still being assailed by cars.  Some were little taps into a door frame.  Some we quite spectacular and took out entire corners of buildings.  And then there was yesterday.

Yesterday there was this perfectly innocent building, sitting along a perfectly picture perfect downtown main street.  So perfect a main street it is that it is named Main Street.  And along that street were stores you don’t see much along main streets lately.  There is an insurance agency with just a couple of agents always handy, a deli-style sandwich shop where everybody knows your name, a florist with real flowers in real vases and a carnation for you, a real estate office with pictures of houses for sale taped to the inside of the front window, and up until yesterday, a chiropractic office manned by Dr. C., of course.  Now gone is the building façade.  Gone is the receptionist’s desk.  Gone is the waiting room.  Gone is most everything in the front half of the building.  Fortunately the driver responsible for doing all that did it along about 8:30 at night, long after everyone in the office had themselves gone.

So why such a big deal over such a little office along such a little street in such a little town?  We’ve written about big buildings getting plowed into by big trucks.  We even wrote about an airport getting in the way of a crazy lady on a mission.  So now we’re up to some 350 words about that little office along a little street in a little town. But it’s special. It’s She of We’s town.  And it’s her Main Street and her deli and and her florist and her buildings.  These are people she knows. 

Now it’s not just an interesting topic to post for you to read.  It’s not trying to figure out how many building assaults per how many days. Now when we pose just how distracted does a driver have to be to not notice a two story, glass front, brick and mortar building getting bigger and bigger in the windshield it’s a building that we’ve seen, driven past, walk by, pointed to.    

We know we aren’t the only ones to know a building that has come under attack.  In the Buffalo NY area, petitions began circulating calling for guard rails around buildings at street level for goodness sake!  But now She of We enters the elite club of not only knowing buildings that have been disrupted by drunk, disorderly, or distracted drivers.  She knows the people in that building too.

Where will it end?  Last year in our metro area almost 100 times did the cars and trucks run through mortar and glass.  We stopped counting at the end of the year.  We still noticed them.  We pointed them out on the news. We just didn’t pay attention to them.  Until yesterday.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

Calling Mrs. Petrie

Michael Leave a comment

The Robert Petries did it.  The Darren Stevenses did it.  Even the Major Nelsons did it.  And so did our parents and probably yours.  The classic American house party.  Where has it gone?  We’ve seen some modern versions of it, a backyard fish fry, a deck party, a holiday open house.  They all have most of the elements of the landmark shindig just missing Rob and Laura pushing back the furniture and dancing to the three piece combo invited just for the occasion.  Then we got involved!

Our merry band of friends and relatives attempted a revival of it last fall.  Now some three months later people still talk of it.  Twenty or so revelers all came over within 15 minutes or so of all the others and all left within 15 minutes or so of all the others and while they were here there was mingling and snacking and drinking in celebration of absolutely nothing in particular.  There was live music just for the occasion and attempts at impromptu dancing.  (And promises of real dancing at the next one.  See, they were already planning on us having another before this one spun it last.)  We had no magician but we had sing-a-longs.  We had no charades.  Please, no charades.  And when the last of the party-goers got up and went it was such a quick clean-up that, looking back on it, the prop guys must have helped.  We’re certain Laura, though a little jealous, would have been quite proud.

We’re both of an age that we remember our parents having friends over and someone playing some instrument and someone else singing along.  Food was plentiful but trying to recall specific menus gets us not much farther than cheese and crackers.  There were games.  Cards and dice seemed to play starring roles in these efforts though maybe someone tried to talk others into at least one round of charades.  Men ended up in one room; women in another.  Somehow, probably by magic, everyone knew when to go home.  And they all talked about it until the next gala.  These were most likely the models for those television version house parties that had to be just a bit more extravagant than our folks could have managed.  Those television versions were not at all the planned model for our merrymaking but in retrospect might have subconsciously been.  And we managed to be just a bit more extravagant than they.

So, with a tip of our hat (worn at a jaunty angle) to Mrs. Petrie, we’re going to continue our revival of a grand American tradition.  Next time we’ll push the furniture back and roll up the rug.  Maybe Rob and Laura will do a soft shoe in celebration of nothing in particular.  They’ll ask us just how we do it time and again.  And the band will play on. 

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

Mystery Foods of the U.S.

Michael Leave a comment

You probably heard.  The McRib is back. Since 1981 with a couple years off for good behavior, the mysterious McRib has been a cult hero of fast food sandwiches. The real mystery isn’t the meat, it’s the reason. Why do this and other foods intrigue us so?

In our home town as in everybody else’s home town that has a home town bar, we had a home town bar that actually had on the menu, The Mystery Sandwich. The great difference between our mystery sandwich and others are the UPPER CASE LETTERS. Where so many sandwich makers might put up “Daily Special,” “Chef’s Choice,” or “Joe’s Favorite,” our bar cut through the nonsense and called it what it is. So many leftovers of whatever happened to be at the bottom of the meat tray piled high with various cheeses, lettuce, and mayonnaise, on a toasted roll. Or bread. Or bun. Who knew what was in there. Who cared. It is a mystery. Or was. The famous Mystery Sandwich disappeared when the iconic bar went down and a drug store took its place. Intriguing.

Philadelphia calls itself the home of the cheesesteak. To anybody who ever had a true, original, bona fide, Philly cheesesteak there are mysteries galore. First, there’s the cheese. A true Philadelphian will argue the only true cheese for a true cheesesteak is Cheese Wiz. Melted. We no surer that Wiz is cheese than we are that McRib is rib. The other mystery is who runs those shops, the Soup Nazi? If you find yourself in South Philadelphia around the Italian Market you’ll find yourself around the two super steak shops each claiming to be the best, the original, the top dog if they were selling hot dogs. And at each you’d find a sign outside with instructions on how to order your sandwich. And if you break the rules? No steak for you! Very intriguing.

Coca-Cola, Pepsi, Dr. Pepper. All “invented” in drug stores by pharmacists. Really. We knew that. Actually, really not. Oh they all grew from drug stores and pharmacists were the recipes’ creators. But they weren’t coming up with refreshing summer afternoon soft drinks. These were die hard health drinks. Spring water was the root of all that was healthy. Mineral spring water an even deeper root. Bubbling mineral spring water was the cure all without the wink! And all available to you at the pull of a handle at a soda stand. How to get you into Danny’s Drug Store when Freddie’s Pharmacy was so much closer? Add flavor to the life saving water. And while we’re at it, add just a touch of tobacco, caffeine, or even cocaine. They were the original energy drinks. And a mystery that when the Harrison Act of 1914 prohibited the sale of opiates without a prescription is these drinks kept their energy. Most intriguing.

A century and then some ago, Americans mining iron in Cuba searched for a way to quench their thirst. They turned to what was plentiful. Sugar, limes, and rum. And the daiquiri was born. A teaspoon of sugar, the juice of one lime, and an ounce or two or rum, poured over ice equals instant refreshment. And not at all similar to the frozen fruit flavored concoctions one finds in American bars today. How did the one lead to the other. It might be Ernest Hemingway’s fault. Hemingway was a daiquiri connoisseur and his regular purveyor of the cocktail was the Floridita bar in Havana. There many variations of the drink were begun. One involved blending the original ingredients with ice then straining it through a sieve into a frosted glass. Some postulate that because it took so long to strain the icy concoction many yeilded to temptation to just pour the slushy mix into a glass and go at it before the ice melted and you were left with a warm, watered down lime-aid. Intriguingly intriguing.

So there are just a few of the food mysteries that we quite literally relish. In just a few weeks the McRib will be gone, but we’re ready to guess that by then you’ll have thought of an intriguing mystery sandwich, drink, or combination of your own!

Now, that’s what we think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

We regret to inform you…

Michael Leave a comment

‘Tis the season for catalog shopping. Whether on-line or a hard-copy catalog, people are still looking at colorful pictures, picturing loved ones in those colors, and sending off credit card numbers and waiting for packages on the porch to be there to greet them every day after work. Neither of We is any different.

Sometimes the operation is as smooth as we just described it. Every now and then an e-mail pops up that says, ‘Sorry, we regret to inform you that something bad happened and you won’t get your gift until May’ dashing hopes of holiday cheer and now wondering what to get Uncle Ed. She of We had just such an e-mail a bit ago. Well, actually, no, she didn’t. She got an e-mail not at all like that. This is what she got.

Unfortunately, we have to inform you of an error the fulfillment warehouse made which resulted in your order not shipping. Nope. Nada. None. It had not shipped as of yesterday. We are so sorry for this error!

We have confirmed that the warehouse has now fixed the error and your order will be en-route to you as of Monday 12/7 if it is not already.

Of course, the big question is: Will it arrive by Christmas? YES – you will receive it in time!

Don’t you just love it? ‘Dear customer, we made a mistake and you weren’t getting anything but we fixed it and now you will get it. And on time.’ No blaming the slowness of the mail. No blaming the foibles of electronic transmissions. No blaming volume or “this unanticipated popularity of our items.” Nope. We messed up, we fixed it, it’s on its way. And with cheerful punctuation!

‘Tis the season for catalog shopping. And ‘tis the season for occasional disappointment. We think it’s good that somebody out there takes a light-hearted approach at their job. Why be so serious? Especially when it comes to punctuation!

Now, that’s what we think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

Buttons, Buttons, Self-Controlling Buttons

Michael Leave a comment

In our last post we riled for a bit about buttons.  Buttons on the remote controls that we’re certain on there just to frustrate us when we’re trying to change channels in a dark room. We’ve discovered another set of buttons that are out to rule the world.  Unlike the irritating but basically innocent buttons of remote controls, household appliances, even car radio and climate controls, these buttons pose threats and real danger.  They are the buttons on your hand held electronic devices.

Phones, readers, and tablets all have those cunning buttons along their edges, built into the seams separating the front and back pieces, hiding where nobdoy with fat fingers or long nails can reach but are pushovers for a little pressure from a nearby pen in a briefcase.  Yes, they are…turned on remotely.

Consider these real life examples.  On a recent trip, He of We dutifully turned off his phone before boarding and slipped it into his carry-on soon to be stowed under the seat in front of him.  When arriving at his destination, he took it out to text his progress to She of We and discovered it was already on.  It was on without him having to have held the power button in until his finger went numb. Not long ago at a food court a young lady a couple tables away shrieked (yes, shrieked) in horror and dismay that her tablet not only turned itself on in the depths of her classic messenger bag, but had also drank up the last of the juice in its battery.

Power switches work both ways.  Both of We have had readers and phones turn themselves off.  Usually He of We’s phone magically turns itself off sometime before She of We calls, thus prompting wonderings of why he bothers to carry a phone that he never answers.

Turning electronics on or off isn’t all these device controllers do for themselves.  No, these pieces of silicon and solder switch modes, take pictures, open files, and call friends or relatives with no human assistance.  Remember that the next time your phone rings and you’re standing in the middle of an intersection yelling “Hello, hello.  You pocket dialed me again!” into it.

Buttons, buttons.  If they aren’t frustrating you when you can’t figure out what they do, they’re frustrating you by doing things on their own.  Maybe when the day of everything being voice activated comes along it wil all be better.  Yeah, right.

Now, that’s what we think. Really. How ‘bout you?