Tag Technology

Yes, No, Maybe

Michael 2 Comments

I’m a sucker for a good survey. Not the ones people with clipboards try to take at the mall while intercepting you rushing out of Spencer’s attempting to make it to Macy’s before the rest of the family realizes you’re missing. Not the ones that pop up at the bottom of otherwise legitimate online news articles implying (inferring?) you can turn your free time into earnings time. I mean real surveys by real polling outlets for genuine marketing, opinion, or news pieces.

Some years ago I shifted all my verbal correspondence to my mobile number and did away with the landline phone. I was all about eliminating unnecessary or duplicate services and as I was more likely to carry a cell phone around with me than I was a corded (or even cordless) device tied to a hard connection in the wall, the cell won. Unfortunately for as cutting edge as we want to believe our smart phones are and how sophisticated we talk ourselves into believing the service providers may be, they still haven’t figured out how to handle Caller ID. Or for all I know they have and haven’t yet figured out how to charge for such an archaic concept, or the government has decided it is in our best interest not to know who is on the other end of the call, or it is in their best interest not to get into a perceived battle over privacy issues some nut might claim. As a result I don’t answer a call unless it is someone in my contact list or is a number I recognize. As a further result I no longer get to enjoy participating in one of the few random phone surveys that still might come my way.

Now I do belong to a few opinion panels and occasionally get to answer a poll or do a survey on line. I also will answer surveys published by those I follow on social media if the topic interests me and I keep an eye out for new invitations from new or established pollsters. It’s all in fun for me. I haven’t filled any free time with “earnings time” and the most I’ve ever gotten from answering a survey was a $15 gift card.

I like surveys. And I think I like giving people a piece of my mind, but then that’s what this blog is for. And now you know we’ve gotten to the meat of the story, the heart of the topic, the reason for being here you and I. Who is getting a piece of my mind today?

You may not recognize it from my writing but I try to keep myself on the right side of the grammar and usage police. Some time ago I taught a few classes at a university. At that time there was a rather decent size to-do brewing over perceived favoritism demonstrated by the grading of essay type questions on tests and we were encouraged to administer multiple choice tests and to use machine gradable answer cards. (This was in the 90s. Now personally I think somebody had purchased a bunch of these cards for a dying technology and that somebody saw their budget approval rights in jeopardy if said cards did not find their way off the storeroom shelves. Just thinking out loud.) Anyway, I became the Mad Professor of Multiple Choices. Every question not only had three seemingly logical answer choices (a, b, and c) but also multiples of those choices (a and b, a and c, b and c) and total inclusion (all of the above) or exclusion (none of the above). I was always careful to arrange the answers so “all of the above” came before “none of the above” so I could not get drawn into the argument “but Perfessor Evil Tester, how can ‘all of the above’ be right if it includes something that might be right and ‘none of the above’ sayin’ that none of them is right ’cause there ain’t no way nothing can be right and not right at the same time.” I knew my tests, and my test takers! If you consider that a multiple choice test is just a big survey you could say now I know my surveys also.

So, to make a long story short (and aren’t you glad you’re not getting the long version?), I had to scratch my head when this little gem popped up in my Facebook feed, although it was Facebook.

Survey

Hmm. Did you watch TV last night? Yes, No, Not Sure. Not Sure? Really? You can’t tell if you were watching TV? Not “Both yes and no depending on when last night.” Not even to old “Prefer not to answer.” Nope, they really asked “Not Sure.” How are you not sure? Wait, I have it. You were watching a television network broadcasted show via a streaming service on your handheld mobile device. That makes sense. Yeah. Probably an offspring of the “Hey Perfessor” guy.

Oh, just so you know, somewhere in this country the “Hey Perfessor” guy is part of somebody’s health care team. Let’s just say I “prefer not to answer.”

Not for Nothing

Michael 2 Comments

This morning at 7:57 Eastern Standard Time, the temperature here recorded 0°. Again for the international, hopelessly metric-centric, or way too scientific reader, that’s Fahrenheit degrees. Celsius or Kelvin users feel free to calculate out your equivalents but believe me when I say it’s not going to add to your reading pleasure. (Does anybody actually use Kelvin?) Anyway, it got to zero degrees for the first time this year and it made me wonder, what does that mean?

I mean I know what it means but what does it mean? I’m a scientist and I don’t understand what happens when there are no degrees. (I don’t understand how radio works either so maybe I’m being too generous calling myself that regardless of what some university declared on a piece of paper way back then. That was a long time ago anyway.) So, anyway, again, what does 0° mean? Zero grams (hooray for metric!) means there is no mass. Zero lumens equals no light.  So does zero degrees mean there is no temperature? If there isn’t, how do we get negative degrees. Do we owe the air some temperature back? It may seem so but usually a heavy coat, warm gloves and a good hat keep our own degrees right where they belong.

thermzeroI really think somebody needs to get on this problem of where did all the degrees go and did they take the temperature with them. The next thing you know, the laws of physics are going to be broken left and right. Imagine if surface tension decided it wasn’t going to hold fluid in place any more. Your eyeballs would slide right out of your head. I’m sorry if that doesn’t paint a very pretty picture but you won’t be able be able to see it anyway. What if objects just stopped have equal and opposite reactions? The entire fireworks industry would come to a screeching halt. Actually it would just come to a halt. The screeching wouldn’t happen because things in motion like the fireworks industry wouldn’t experience momentum nor stay in motion so nothing would resist its stopping, thus no screech. (Ha! See, I can still science!)

No, this zero degree thing has to be nipped in bud and now before it happens again. We can’t have people walking around in a temperatureless environment. Although… You need heat to make calories. If no degrees means no temperature and no temperature means no heat then no degrees equals no calories. By George, I’ve just found the perfect diet. Eat anything you want but only in zero degree weather.

Now would you look at that. Every cloud really does have a silver lining. Even those clouds in a cold, cold, zero degree (F) morning sky.

Remotely Technological

Michael 3 Comments

If I had to describe myself I would avoid it. But if I couldn’t, depending on the context, I would say I am a technologically aware luddite. I’m not anti-progress, I’m just don’t care about it. Actually, most other things I care about more. Work had the necessary bells and whistles. Home had bells. And whistles. And too many of them sometimes.

I wouldn’t be the first to say we’re advancing in the wrong direction. Take a look at your wrist. If it’s not there, on the wrist of somebody you know is a smart watch doing all the things Dick Tracy’s did in the 40s looking remarkable like what Kojak wore in the 70s. In fact, if you’ve got a spare $500 laying around, you can get a brand new Dick Tracy watch.

I don’t. But what I do have laying around is a new remote that might finally be progressing to where I suggested they go six years ago. Look at the remote on the left. Ignoring those 4 shortcut buttons toward the bottom, there are only 10 buttons on it. That’s the voice remote for my Roku Stick.

Remotes

Compare that the to the voice remote for my cable with its 39 buttons which is actually 14 buttons less than the cable remote that sparked my post six years ago. Eventually we might get to power, volume, and the one that looks like a cross.

Oh, I didn’t get the more slender if not more fashion forward remote to join the entertainment streaming masses here in the 21st century. I just got tired spending $130 for cable. Like I said (as I said?), I’m not anti-progress. But I can be cheap.

Shop With An Opp, Err, App

Michael 2 Comments

Just one blog post ago I said how sometimes I can appreciate some mobile based applications like the daily paper. Sometimes I am quite content with the old fashion ways like the Sunday paper. Today I tried a new phone app and I might not ever go back to my previous routine. Today I shopped, scanned, and bagged my way through the grocery store.

Ok, I know some of you are already saying that you don’t even want to use the self-checkout. “If I wanted to check out groceries I would have gotten a job at the grocery store!” and “I don’t see anybody giving out discounts for doing their job!” are just a couple of the reasons I’ve heard people give for not embracing self-checkout. Sometimes while in line for self-checkout. And that’s fine. As far as I know, no store has demanded that you have to check yourself out. At least not ones with a brick and mortar presence. They still have cashiers manning the scanner and till and you are welcome to use those lanes if you want somebody else to do the hard work.

I sometimes had problems with self-checkout at the grocery store. Often it was because of a person attempting to use the self-checkout who had difficulty completing the basic “pass bar code over scanner, put on belt or in bag” motion. Rarely was it the technology itself although the express, 12 items or less, self-checkout registers never understood that I wanted to use my own bag even though they gave me that option at the start of the process. A human was always able to provide some intervention and I moved right along.

The “Scan, Pay, and Go” option as my local market has dubbed the service, cuts the most annoying of the limitations of the self-checkout and still gives me the opportunity to shop in non-contact bliss. The process is simple. You download an app to your smart phone or use a provided hand held scanner. Instead of just placing an item into your cart, you scan the product’s bar code and put it into bag in your cart. And you continue through the store completing your shopping list like so. For security reasons you don’t put any payment information into the app and you pay at the end of the shopping experience. At the checkout area you proceed to an area just for the “Scan, Pay, and Go” crowd and scan the bar code on to the checkout stand which retrieves your order. You are given the option to redeem coupons and select payment method, then off you go.

It might not be for everybody. Some people might want even more automation. But for an old guy like me, it’s nice to have done something relevant to the 21st century. Finally.

I can’t wait till next week’s shipping trip.

 

 

 

 

 

Frozen in Time. Or Space. Or Neither?

Michael 3 Comments

I should be celebrating still. Last week was my birthday. A dozen years ago I’d still be celebrating a week later. No, that’s not accurate. “Still” makes it sound like I spent an entire week in revelry. Well, I was younger then. At least by 12 years. That would have made me 50 which contrary to the teachings of 30 and 40 year olds, is the age when one is truly still young enough to get into trouble but old enough to know better but not quite yet to not care. But no, not even those dozen years ago was I inclined to spend a full week in celebration of aging. So “still” is still not right. No. I should have said my birthday was last week and a dozen years ago I’d be celebrating it again.

“Still” might seem to make more sense than “again” but trust me, “again” is right. Of course, I’d be happy to explain.

A dozen years ago we’d have taken pictures. A week ago we also took pictures. A week ago, among the 20 or 4,000 pictures taken, I saw 4. Then, of the 12 or 15 taken I would have seen 12 or 15. But not for a week. A dozen years ago we were still taking pictures with analog cameras and film that required developing know how (or at least the corner drugstore).

Here’s what usually happened.  Regardless of whose birthday or anniversary or whatever and the actual date of aforementioned whatever, the celebration happened on Sunday. People worked during the week. (Actually I worked on Sundays also but that never seemed to alter the pattern.) (Hmm.) Pictures were taken, cake was cut, more pictures, gifts, more cake, more pictures, cake, pictures, wine, cake, pictures, etc., more pictures, wine, pictures. Film was rewound, removed from camera, and placed in prominent position to be dropped off for developing Monday morning. Monday film was forgotten due to Monday morning rush to get out the door. Tuesday film was forgotten due to it being Tuesday. Wednesday film forgotten due to everyone making bad camel jokes on the way out the door. Thursday film was remembered and taken to be developed! Decision making now entered the process. One hour, overnight, or standard. Couldn’t hang around for an hour and since we waited this long, what’s another day. Overnight please. Friday, now developed pictures forgotten due to TGIF. Saturday … ugh! Sunday, special trip made to pick up pictures, everybody gathers around, pictures passed about, celebration renewed!

More importantly, afterwards, sometimes weeks or months afterwards but eventually afterwards, the pictures were transferred to a photo album and placed on book shelf for future re-celebrations.

Last week, pictures were taken, phones passed around after any particularly good ones (four) then never seen again. [Sigh] But if you’re interested, you are welcome to come over and see pictures from my fiftieth. I know just where they are.

BD40Actually, this is from my fortieth. Seems I can’t find those from ten years later. I think we were using digital by then!

 

Pleased to Meet Me

Michael 10 Comments

In an effort to avoid the all day onslaught of football on television yesterday I stumbled upon on old episode of The Golden Girls where Blanche was researching her family tree. I recall my daughter having a similar assignment for some class in some year of some school. We got back a few generations on my mother’s side, but my father’s branch and both sides of her mother’s family stalled after two generations, just about the time the families arrived on American shores.

Tracing a family tree can be fun but back then genealogy was a lot of work. It involved going through family bibles and loose documents and asking questions of surviving friends and relatives of parents and grandparents when you could find them. For us it was further complicated by documents that were written in Italian, German, and Czech. Ancestry.com would have come in handy if it had existed then.

While I’m firmly behind the notion of finding your roots, I’m confused over the recent explosion of DNA testing to determine your ancestry. To me, a person’s heritage is what was learned from one’s parents. I’m American of Italian heritage not because some DNA inside me matches the DNA of some others who sent saliva samples to a particular lab, but because my mother and father raised me as American of Italian heritage. Although DNA testing is fine and dandy for determining lineage, there are many reasons why that DNA may not take a straight line to get to you.

For example, let’s look at a couple of the TV commercials’ reasons for why they think you should have your DNA tested and, to put it politely, blow them out of the water.

DNAFirst there is the one with the earnest sounding man wearing lederhosen and dancing in a German dance troupe. He had his DNA tested and there was no German DNA there. In fact he was Scottish and had to go out and buy a kilt. How could such a thing happen? Oh, I don’t know. Maybe adoption.

Then there is that equally earnest looking couple who were certain that the hubby half is Italian. Where would he have gotten such a foolish idea when his DNA clearly shows he is really “Eastern European.” The idea that nobody is certain of the actual separation of Southern Europe, Eastern Europe and the Balkans aside, there has been so much commercial trade between northern and eastern Italy and the Austrian empire over the centuries that the trading of DNA was inevitable.

Although you can’t deny that DNA is what makes us, it’s not our DNA that makes us. Oh, it gives us our hair and eyes, our build and bones, and our blood and sex types. But it’s our parents that give us our substance, our values, our reason for being the beings we are. Maybe that’s just as high as our trees need to reach.

 

When A Door Closes

Michael 3 Comments

This past weekend I was getting out of the car when I realized car doors don’t close right, the kind of light bulbs that last ten years don’t last ten years, and computers ask questions they have no intention of doing anything with about. I also realized these are all first world problems but, well frankly, those are the kinds of problem I most encounter.

Let’s look at those cars doors. Every other door in the (first) world either opens or closes. Most exterior and interior house doors have latches or knobs and you push them open and they stay open or fasten them closed and then stay closed. Some even have pneumatic or motorized closers that close them for you, and thus a name that has nothing to do with baseball. Refrigerator doors have those magnetic strips that run the complete inner rim of the door with the expressed purpose of making certain the door, when not opened, is indeed closed. An entire industry has been created around the process of opening and closing garage doors. The point is that most all doors in most all buildings are mostly always open or always closed unless you take steps to leave them partially opened (or, for the half empty types, partially closed).

Car doors are a different breed. Yes car doors have a latching mechanism that ensures the door remains in the closed position until you take steps to open it (a perfectly reasonable expectation of a car door when travelling down the highway at 15 miles over the posted speed limit), but only the car door has taken pains to provide the user with a position not open yet not quite closed (and a quite unreasonable position on that same highway). So often are these doors in this position that car manufacturers have taken steps to alert the driver that a door is not completely closed by means of a warning light on the dash panel. Would it not be a more reasonable resolution to take steps to make a door that closes completely? Perhaps the car makers should get together with the refrigerator makers.

Now, speaking of lights, I have this pole lamp in the corner of my living that has graced the corner of this living room, the previous living room, a family room, and a room that once had aspirations of being a den but became a nursery instead. As you can see, it’s a versatile and, at least in my opinion, an attractive light. I bought it about 15 years ago. I almost didn’t buy it. It was pricey for the time and for its type and that, I was told, was due to the light’s lamp. Lamp’s light? It has (had) a most usual bulb that looks like a miniature fluorescent tube that had the added bonus of a built in dimming mechanism. I questioned this arrangement, not to mention the price, before making the purchase. I was assured that the dimmer worked as well in the home as in the showroom, that indeed it was expensive and when it comes time to replace the bulb it too will be expensive, but that its bulb would last at least 10 years if not longer.

Well indeed it was expensive but it worked as advertised and its bulb lasted more than the claimed 10 years. I use the past tense here because after those ten and half again more years the bulb has given its all. I never found out if the replacement bulb is expensive because when I went to buy said replacement bulb I was told that “they haven’t made those for at least ten years now, but, who knows, maybe you can find something on the Internet.”

So to home I went, in my car with the now fully closed doors, fired up the old desktop computer and thought I’d check my email before beginning my what would probably be fruitless search for a miniature, dimmable, fluorescent light bulb. A message from my doctor’s hospital organization was there telling me I had a message on their server. (If they can send me a message that says I have a message why can’t they just send me the message? That may be Thursday’s post.) So I signed on to their server with my user name and super secret password and was immediately presented with a pop up window asking me if I want my browser to remember my super secret password. I suppose so I was not confused by this question I was presented with multiple choice answers. — Yes — Not Now — Never —  And as I do every time I am asked that same question entering that same site I select “Never.”

And then I wonder…we can’t even make doors that close all the way and I expect a computer to understand the concept of never.

 

Unsubscription of the Day

Michael Leave a comment

Before there were jokes of the day or meditations of the day there were Dial a Laugh and Dial a Prayer.  If you were feeling down you could call for a smile or an inspirational pick me up.  Now we can enjoy inspiration in our inboxes every day by way of a joke, recipe, song, home decorating tip, deep discount air fare, fashion accessory, sports trivia, or even a prayer of the day. No need to wait until you need help dealing with life, life’s little boosts come to you. Directly. At no charge to you.

The thing about free anything, particularly something free that you can get every day of every week, is that they end up costing something. But not you. To you the subscriber the most expense you incur is the time it takes to scroll around or to read the ads that come with the daily encouragement. No, this isn’t a rant about ads. Ads are fine. I like ads. Ads will buy my old folks home space someday. Ads make the world go ‘round. And it’s because of this that I had this thought pop into my head three weeks ago.

What popped was “Really?” and what made it pop was “If you want to continue receiving this email, please click here.” The email in question is one of the ubiquitous OTDs. The question was, “Really? Well that’s a new one,” which I guess really isn’t a question but literary license and all that. What it definitely was though, it was a first. Usually you have to do almost anything you wouldn’t want to do in front of your parents to get out of an email subscription that you once actually asked for. If you are lucky enough to find among the message’s fine print a link to unsubscribe it usually takes you to a series of questions verifying your unwise selection (You are about to have your name PERMANENTLY removed. Are you sure you want to do this?) then respond to several confirming emails with links that take you to more veiled queries regarding your decision making and ultimately your sanity. Nobody lets anybody go from a subscription list. Those are the numbers that advertisers live by. They are literally the lifeblood of the OTDers.

So when I saw this email, this special email sent separate from the daily delivery of inspiration, I knew it was an experiment in the making. If anything, one would have thought that the email would have said that they needed to confirm their list and if I no longer wanted to receive it I should respond, but this was a whole new bag of beans. (Look, somebody has to make up new idioms and someday when “bag of beans” is old hat you’ll be able to say that you read it first.) Personally, I didn’t care if I got that daily gem or not so I didn’t “click here.” About a week later I got another email reminding me that I hadn’t yet responded to their previous inquiry and if I wanted to keep receiving their pearls of wisdom I should “click here.” Again I didn’t. Now two weeks after that I’m still getting my daily missives.

Well the joke is on them. I’m getting what other people have to actually go out and ask to get and I didn’t have to do anything for it. How’s that for pulling one over on them. Hehehe.

 

Technical Resistance

Michael 8 Comments

I try to take responsibility for myself as much as I can in all aspects that I can reach. As long as I can reach them comfortably. Including my health. So when the good folks that bring me my delightful dialysis sessions announced an opportunity to “take control of your kidney health and experience better outcomes” I jumped at the chance. Who couldn’t resist better outcomes in anything you take on? Then they started throwing around words like “empowered” and “easy” in the same paragraph even. And they got me with, “Start managing your kidney care with your Portal today and gain more time to do the things you love. Register today and Thrive On” (Emphasis not even added. They’re good.) How can I not want to take advantage of gaining more time to do the things I love? I was hooked.

You just know this is going to go wrong somewhere, don’t you? Hmm.

Looking forward to actively participating in my care, I carefully filled out the many screens of information that they requested, chose my password, and awaited the confirmation email which would contain the additional instructions for completing the registration process. In just a few seconds it came, and in just a few minutes I did what I was supposed to do. In seconds again I received another email congratulating me on successfully registering for the patient portal and was presented with a link to “log in and start actively participating in your care!” (OK, that time I added the exclamation point, but I wasn’t excited about this. Wouldn’t you be?)

I clicked, eagerly awaiting the chance to participate in my care, and attempted my first official login. In went my email address, then went in my password, then the email address and password went in to wherever they go and the little circle thing started spinning and then, low and behold (words you just don’t hear much anymore) across the screen I was presented with the message “username or password invalid.” Oh, poo! No problem. In my excitedness I probably hit a wrong key so I re-entered the username which is my email address so I know that was correct, and then, this time more carefully, my password. Almost always when denied access it’s because I incorrectly enter the password which makes sense since they never show you your password (unless it happens to be ******* and you just have to remember how many *s). But no, again that didn’t work so I gave one more try and one more time I got the same frustrating message.

I selected the link on the page for technical support and sent them an email detailing my inability to log into the patient portal (and thus my unfortunate delay in participating in my care!) and sat back to await their response. A few minutes later I saw the little envelope icon pop up at the top of the screen and I anxiously opened my email to just as anxiously read their reply, get back on track, and start participating in my care. Well imagine my disappointment when I scrolled the inbox items and saw, “Undeliverable.” Instead of the anxiously awaited reply I had a message wherein the little emailman politely explained to me that my desperate plea for help could not be sent because the addressee “wasn’t found or doesn’t exist at the destination server” and I should check to make sure I entered the address correctly, contact the intended recipient by phone, or several other options that involved things like checking licenses and permissions and other things that normal non-computer savvy people (and probably some of them, too) have no idea what any of that means. Disappointment does not begin to describe what I was feeling. “ARRRGH!” OF COURSE THE DAMN ADDRESS EXISTS. ALL I DID WAS PUSH THEIR DANM BUTTON ON THEIR DAMN WEBSITE! DAMN MORONS!” I said to myself. Calmly.

Maybe it’s just a password problem and I actually mistyped when I was selecting it. It’s possible. If I can incorrectly enter a password when trying to log onto a site I can certainly mistyped the letters, characters, numbers, and case control when first selecting the password. Of course that would mean that I would have had to make the same mistake twice since, once on the first selection entry and once on the confirmation entry, but hey, it could happen. Yeah, right.

So I attempted to log on again, knowing it would reject the login information but also knowing I would be presented with the inevitable “Forgot your password?” link. So I did. And I was. And I clicked. And in a few seconds I received another email with another link to reenter my password. So I clicked. And I reentered. Carefully. Both times. The screen blanked taking all my information again to wherever the little electrons go when they discuss these things and in less than a second I got another email! This is getting exciting. Again anxiously (though not quite as anxiously as I had been earlier), I opened the email and read the message congratulating me on successfully changing my password with a new link to log on and “start participating in my care.” (No emphasis added. By this time I was getting emphatically worn out.) Again I clicked. And again I entered username AKA email address and password AKA, uhh, password. And again I got…”username or password invalid.”

Oy.

(If you read Monday’s post and are wondering if this was what I couldn’t remember…..well, the answer to that is no. But this one is such a great story I couldn’t wait to share it. That and if I did wait I knew I would have forgotten about it. But don’t worry. I still have the sticky note stuck right there on the monitor (see?) and I’ll be writing all about it next time. Unless something else comes up between now and then. But it’s OK. There’s lots of sticky on that note. It’s not going anywhere.)

(Oh and, do you think I use too many parentheses?)

 

Shave and a Haircut

Michael 5 Comments

I still can’t get used to it. Although I try to avoid my face in the mirror – well, maybe not avoid as much as not concentrate on – I have been spending more and more time staring at myself every morning.

About a month ago I became completely clean shaven. That hasn’t happened for over 30 years. And even before that it was a week to week decision regarding facial hair arrangement. Now that I’ve gone close to a handful of weeks without anything there you’d think seeing all of my face looking back at me wouldn’t be that disconcerting. Most of the time it isn’t but that first-thing-in-the-morning glance still returns an element of surprise. It’s probably because I forget what I look like by the time the morning comes having not seen me for the whole night.Mustache

I didn’t decide to shave everything off my cheeks and chin because of any new fashion statement I was looking to make. I didn’t do it for the love of a woman, the lust of a mate, or even at the suggestion of a friend. No, I did it for the most common of reasons assuming that anybody who has changed his facial appearance is completely honest about the reason for the change. I shaved completely because of the dreaded trimming accident.

Trimming, the bane of those who would let a little of nature show through on their visage without so much that he may be mistaken for a member of a well-known family whose patriarch holds a patent for duck calls. Trimming is tough! You have this fancy specialized piece of equipment with all these different heads and guides and they all have adjustments for different lengths and … well … if you happen to have the wrong guide on or the right one set at the wrong length and … well … if it’s a little early and you’re a little tired and … well … things happen.

So, at least for now, I’ve rejoined the ranks of men who scrape blade across skin each morning – ok, most mornings. Good thing I never got rid of my old razor.

Anybody know if they still make double edge blades?