Far be it from me to criticize the recently deceased, but I couldn’t help but wonder what the world would be like today if not for Robert Adler’s most famous invention.

Who was this 93-year-old man who died last week? What device did he set upon the world, changing us in so many ways?

Well, he was the inventor of the remote control.

Yes, Robert Adler invented the television remote way back in 1956, the year that mankind officially became a collective heap of saggy Jell-O sprawled across the sofa.

I ask again, what would the world be like if not for this invention?

Seriously, think about that. For one, we wouldn’t watch TV. Heck no. Something would come on that we didn’t like, and we’d be too lazy to get up to change it. Instead we would go out and construct monuments or come up with the cure for cancer. Why do you think Egypt’s pyramids were built? They didn’t have remotes! So they stacked chunks of rock.

Think about it: Goodbye Montel; hello society a better place.

Maybe I’m fooling myself. Maybe we would find other sedentary interests to fill our time, like watching leaves grow or exploring the great details on the surface of a pork rind.

Or more likely, someone else would have come up with the idea for the remote control instead. It might not have been as effective. Imagine if TVs came with a trained monkey who changed the channel for us. “No, not C-SPAN, you idiot! I’ve told you I don’t watch C-SPAN.” Or a long wooden dowel with a rubber finger on the tip.

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Dear Dog Toy Manufacturer,

I don’t mean to be rude. It’s not my style to jump down people’s throats, call them names or tell them their mother looks like a walrus hooked on margaritas. That’s not me.

But allow me to ask you just one question: What happened in your childhood to make you so mean? So malicious? So diabolical and sadistic? In short, why do you want to make my life miserable?

Over the years, I have supported you. I have spent gobs of money on your dog toys, probably helping to put your kids through college and meat on your table. Yet, you repay me by creating toys that push me to the edge of sanity.

So as a consumer I have a few suggestions I would like you to consider:

1. Stop putting squeakers in dog chew toys — Why in the world are you so hung up on this? Every toy you ever make has a squeaker in it. If it’s a ball, there’s a squeaker. If it’s a bone, there’s a squeaker. I buy dog food and half expect it’s going to squeak.

Enough with the squeakers. If my dog ate coffee grounds and a bag of sugar, washed it down with a bottle of Jack Daniels then shot lightning out of her nose, it still wouldn’t come close to what she’s like when a squeaker toy is in the vicinity.

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Books, books
I read them every day
How many stinkin’ children’s books
Will I have to read today?

OK, so I’m not bothered by all the books I’m reading my daughter.

It’s fun and I agree with my wife that it’s a much healthier habit than teaching her to throw darts or saw wood in the back yard like I was trying to do last week. She’s only 1-year-old after all, and doesn’t understand the whole measuring thing.

So we’ll stick with books. But it sure can be tedious, especially when you’re reading the same one over and over again 13,000 times in the span of 15 minutes. If you’ve ever overcooked broccoli, that’s my brain by the time I’m through.

Mostly I read to her at night when I’m supposed to be changing her diaper and getting her ready for bed. I plop down on the floor among some of her pillows and wait for her to crawl over with a book. I know she’s ready for me to read it by how she whacks me in the head. It’s her special way of saying, “Read, fool, now!”

So I start reading and she crawls off to get another one, which she will of course hit me in the head with, and the whole process starts over again. If you see me on the street and wonder what all the welts and bruises on my forehead are, it’s just a little nighttime book reading.

Many times I get the feeling it’s not so much about me reading to her, as it is about making me read. She’s on a power trip and sees me as her pet monkey. “Read, pet monkey, read!”

That isn’t to say she can’t enjoy a good book reading. She does. Her attention span is really growing and is now measured in milliseconds. She laughs and smiles as I turn the pages and it’s the most amazing little moments when she looks up into my eyes, so appreciative, so dazzled, so Whack!

Moment spoiled.

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