Tuesday, March 11, 2014

Smart Stuff





Everything has a computer in it these days.

Cars, washing machines, refrigerator, dogs, cats…even my friend Janey, which I can’t actually prove, but I suspect. 

She has this annoying way of knowing exactly how much tip she should leave before the check arrives.

Hate that….

Actually that’s not true…she never leaves the tip…she just tells me how much to leave.

My car knows everything about me.  How far back I like my seat, what my favorite radio station is and what songs I like.

My coffee maker knows what time I get up and exactly at what temperature I like it served.

It even knows when I’m stepping a little on the wild side and brews up a batch of hazelnut….all on its own.

My Smart TV actually watches all my shows for me and then just fills me in later about what I missed, if anything.

So that saves time.

My phone tells me what music I like even if I've never heard of the band before.

It also tells me what music everyone else who calls me likes and what they were whistling while they waited for me to pick up.

But that only works with calls. Texts are different. If you text me, my phone will only tell me what you’re planning to have for lunch.

I mean technology can’t do everything.

My plants don’t have computers in them…not yet…

Just the soil.

When the soil is dry it sends me an e-mail.

When it needs food, it posts on Facebook…just to shame me.

But that’s how soil is…especially when it’s hungry.

All of the kitchen appliances are equipped with so called “Smart Tech”.

I’m not quite sure who calls it that, but that’s what I came up with.

Okay…that’s a lie. 

The stove told me to call it that…and the dishwasher backed it up.

What? 

Tell me you don’t find your dishwasher intimidating?

Supposedly all of the kitchen appliances are capable of talking to each other.

Yeah…I know.

Wonder what they’re talking about?

I’m pretty sure it’s about me…and the coffee maker.

I don’t think they like how the coffee maker sucks up to me.

Or how I hand wash the pot instead of putting it in the dishwasher.

Well, if the dishwasher hadn’t been so rough on the pot that time, maybe I would.

It took the pot months to get over that “Hi-Temp Scour” fiasco.

I mean, you don’t put a coffee pot through that…unless you’re trying to make a point.

Plus, what…I’m supposed to just let the pot sit there in the dishwasher until the dishwasher decides it’s full and ready to run?

I don’t think so…not in my house…smart or not.

So now all the appliances are against me.

The refrigerator deliberately under chills my beer…and I’m pretty certain it leaves the light on after I close the door.

The burners on the stove look at me funny and now the oven door is playing games too.

But that’s what happens when you put computers in everything.

The vacuum only sucks as much as it wants too.

The thermostat tells you when it’s too warm or too cold…no matter what shade of blue you turn.

The lights turn themselves on and off at will, depending on their mood.

Even my computer will tell me when I’ve stretched the truth too far.

Sometimes, it’ll just cut me off in mid————————

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More Smart Stuff from the Archive of Retort:

"Smart Ass Phone"


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Looking for a fun, new Christmas Tradition to share with your family?

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Sunday, March 9, 2014

The Sunday Archive of Retort - 3/12/12

Daylight Saving's Time Detailed




We turned our clocks ahead this morning...hopefully.

If you didn't, then you're probably still in bed wondering why you're reading this....

But as long as you are, here's a story from 
March 12th, 2012, which tells you all about what you're missing....

"Daylight Saving's Time Detailed"





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Friday, March 7, 2014

The Joy is in the Journey...still









2014 is well into gear.

It’s March already—cloudy, cold, windy March—and by the end of the month the sun will be setting closer to 8 PM than 6 PM and I’ll have passed another one of those BIG birthday milestones. I won’t say which, but it’s the one that has a zero in it …so I’ll leave it to you to figure out.

When I was a kid I couldn’t wait for my birthday to arrive.

Next to Christmas it was the best day of the year, mostly because it involved the three P’s…parties, presents and pepperoni.

What? 

I like pepperoni….

Just saying the words…“It’s my birthday”, carried a cache of magic and provided a passport to anywhere I wanted to go…at least in my over imaginative, narcissistic, little mind.

Each new year also meant I could stay up a little later, watch more TV…even stand on the street corner well into night singing with my acapella group.

Okay, I made that last part up…there was no group, just me…and no street corner either; just the corner of my Mom’s walk in closet that smelled of mothballs, which made it all the better.

Now, as I take another step up the ladder towards yet another gift subscription to AARP… I find myself again wallowing retrospectively in the cold soup of lost days.


I’m not sure why.

Maybe it’s residue from last months“Valentine” Full Moon.
Throw in the recent Mercury retrograde—again—and the alignment or un-alignment of  Venus, Mars and Uranus, which are always up to something…well…I don’t think I need to say anything more.

Now, far removed from "Kiddomcy", the idea of my b-day approaching is a troublesome one, and has been for a number of decades now.

Oh, sure…I still enjoy the ego driven, self-serving specialness of the day. You know, the usual… opening cards and presents, going out for dinner, celebrating the Druid Mud Bath Ritual with friends.

I've even been known to sneak off into the closet now and again to belt out a few tunes, but only when I’m alone…except for—well, that’s neither here nor there….

Over time, the further along the road I traveled, I noticed the destinations I set my sights on—the ones I thought would define me—so often ended up bypassed and undiscovered.  Perhaps, even worse, the outposts I did happen upon sparkled more from a distance; their luster lost, along with their pursuit. 


Eventually, the road took so many turns and detours, I found myself twisted, upside down in a maze of recalculations; it was all I could do just to try and get back on track.

When I finally stopped and took stock of the direction I’d been traveling, the roadmap seemed outdated, faded and full of holes.

And then it dawned on me: following a roadmap to a destination was probably the biggest mistake of all…at least for someone like me.

George Harrison, in his final goodbye of an album (another aging reference) said it best, paraphrasing Lewis Carroll’s Cheshire Cat’s remark to Alice,  “If you don’t know where you’re  going, any road will take you there….”

Now, I’m able to look back and see the road I’ve been traveling from the sage distance of time.

I’ve come to understand that all the twists and turns were never detours or obstructions; just a part of the road I’d chosen; the road I missed so much of with my mind focused on the map.

The message has been shouted for so long, by so many others, but I was too lost in myself to hear it.

But I can hear it now…loud and clear, I hear it now.

The joy is in the journey…the destination, just the end.

Oh, sure, it’s easier to say than do…we all know that. 

But I’m making sure I feel the sunshine on my face, every day, especially through the clouds…and the cold...and the wind...and....





________________________________________________
Looking for a fun, new Christmas Tradition to share with your family?

Pick up "The Little Red Christmas Ball"

Now available at Amazon




And don't forget

“The Kingdom of Keys”


also available at Amazon

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Tuesday, March 4, 2014

Terms of Dis-Service

I Agree-You Agree

We All Agree






Who reads User Agreements?

Not me…and I’m pretty sure not you.

You know what I’m talking about…those 100 thousand words of legalese that pop up on your computer screen every time you sign up for some new service or another.

Before they validate your membership and let you start sharing pictures of today's lunch on their site you have to click—“I Agree”.




Sometimes you even have to state that you “Have Read” the thing.

And what do we do?

We click…we click…and then we click again.

“Come on, my pastrami is wilting…I’m losing the light!”

And off we go.

Then, of course, afterwards, you think nothing of it until ten years later when a couple of guys show up at your door looking for the kidney that you owe them.

“It’s right here in our “Terms of Service” paragraph 942, section 80, subsection 32.A…upon the 10th anniversary date  of membership, you agree to donate one kidney to our ‘Misplaced Organ Club’.  We’ll be back in five for your liver.”

And what choice do you have?  You clicked—“I Agree”. 

Besides they say we can live just fine with only one kidney.

Then you start to wonder if that’s why Johnny didn’t come home after his 13th Birthday.  Maybe he didn’t run off to join the Moonies after all….

But luckily, that’s the exception and not the rule….I think.

I admit, way back when, I actually did take the time to at least scroll through these “Terms of Service.”

I was so paranoid about internet scams and other intrusions into my privacy I wanted to make sure phrases such as “You agree to allow us to choose your style and brand of underpants and to publish and disclose said style and brand to whatever public forum and or governmental agencies at our discretion, without notice and or liability herewith.”

I can’t say I ever came across such a phrase, but I did stop buying my Fruit of the Looms on line and now only pay cash to the guy who sells them behind the railroad trestle, downtown…two cities over…just in case

Can’t be too careful.

But, for the most part, like most of you, I pretty much trust that these “Terms of Service” are legit and purely a formality.

Right?

I mean a big multi-gazillion corporation isn’t going to try to take advantage of me…is it?

Just like those nice pharmaceutical conglomerates that promise to take care of my excess ear hair problem, which I developed while trying to take care of my scaly toe problem, which I developed while trying to take care of my low self-esteem problem, with a simple little pill that if used as directed, may or may not make me more susceptible to stroke, heart attack, bleeding, nausea, diarrhea, mood swings, thoughts of suicide and singing inappropriate songs while checking out more than 12 items at the Supermarket Express Lane.

I mean at least they’re telling me up front what, in the rarest of instances, might occur.  Besides, the stress I’ve developed worrying about my excess ear hair has already produced most of those conditions anyway. And of course they’ve provided me with that handy insert shoved way down into the bottom of the box with about another thousand potential hazards and side effects I might experience…all in the name of transparency…which is another potential side effect.

So all in all I guess we can’t say we haven’t been warned.

Besides, what’s a body part or first born among friends?

Sure, we should be more attentive to the things we agree to, but who has time, let alone the eyes to read all that fine print?

If you can’t trust your social media, bank, on-line shopping venue or cable company of choice…not to mention your Aunt Edna’s Macramé Photo Club…who can you trust?

I mean it’s not like they’re really gonna try to bury anything in there that will make those things one sided or anything.

Right?





Okay…have to go. The light on my Chicken Salad with pickle is just perfect.

Gotta get that posted…..



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Sunday, March 2, 2014

The Sunday Archive of Retort - 3/2/12

Mad About March





First post in a while so I thought it'd be appropriate to dig into the archives—appropriate at least to me—since it's Sunday and all and structure is important.

I've been sorting through a lot stuff these last couple of weeks...cleaning out the cobwebs...throwing away whatever's old and in the way.

Even straightened up my office a little.

I never thought I'd see those floppy discs again...I mean the ones that really are floppy.

Anyway, after all that I find myself pretty much right where I left off...which is good I think...maybe.

So to celebrate the arrival of March and hopefully better weather, here from March 3, 2012—when the weather was apparently quite a bit better—is:

"Mad About March"