Hahahahaha … wait a minute … seriously?
Someone really — REALLY! — hooked up his toaster to Facebook? Set it up so it can tell him (and I guess all his friends) when his toast is ready?
Because the little bell that goes “ding” wasn’t high tech enough?
I read it in the Wall Street Journal. An article titled, “Now, even granny’s fuzzy slippers are texting you.”
It told the tale of a Swedish engineer who wired up his whole house so he could get updates on his computer and cell phone. He knows when doors open. When the laundry is done. And, of course, when his toast is ready for butter.
We haven’t cured cancer, but our cell phones can monitor TOAST!
“It just shows you these things are very easy and we will see far better ideas,” said the toast texting engineer.
Well, I should hope so.
On the story went. About engineers working on diapers that will send messages to parents when they need changing. Poop texts. Or a pair of slippers that will alert family if a grandmother takes a spill. Topple texts.
And I read it. And I scratched my head. And I thought about it. Because it really bugged me. It got under my skin. That this was the epitome of handing over all our responsibilities to technology. A sign that we’re too busy, too incompetent, or just too bored to be bothered. That we can’t — or don’t want to — function unless our phone beeps to tell us our socks are dry or that we haven’t brushed our teeth.
The saddest part? There already is a reminder when your baby’s diaper needs changing. It’s that stench that will curl the tusks of an elephant. Why do you need anything beyond that?
Texting diapers are a sad commentary on the state of things. Maybe it says we’re trying to multi-task too much. Trying to fit too much into our already over-crowded lives. Not paying attention to the things that really matter. Maybe it says that if we can’t get it all done — can’t take a moment to stand by the toaster —we need to slow down a bit. Shoot, why doesn’t something text us that?
Personally, I don’t want to give my household appliances — my toaster! — any more power over me. I don’t want to give it the authority to bark orders. “Come get your toast before it burns. And change that shirt. You look like a shlumpadinka!”
I don’t want to get to the point that my life is scheduled by machines. That I reach a point where I can’t function without their handy little reminders. That I’m found by rescue personnel on my kitchen floor parched and famished because my phone forgot text me a reminder to eat.
“And you don’t even want to know the last time the toilet called me!”
We don’t need appliances that can text. What engineers should spend their time on is making appliances that work better, or that last longer. Stuff that isn’t made of cheap components and flimsy plastic. That won’t break in 6 months, and that might hold up to the test of time. The only texts most toasters would send these days would read like this: “Pls accept my heartfelt apologies. Im busted. 🙁 Pick up new 1 on way home.”
So, dear engineers, forget the texting. Keep the technology in our everyday appliances to a minimum. Diapers don’t need them. Slippers don’t need them. And no one wants to learn on Facebook that their house burned down because they forgot to check the toast. Certainly not me.