“Hey machine, you are not smarter than me,” I yelled at the copier. “Cooperate and nobody gets hurt.” It had little noticeable effect. The piece of inconsequential paper — an off-sized invoice I was trying to reproduce — came out cut in half, even after I adjusted it on the glass. “You arrogant little twit,” I cursed at it. I wondered if slapping its molded-plastic cover would have any effect, or if it would just cause people to look out their office doors and question whether I had finally gone off the deep end. “Um … he’s beating the copier again and calling it a Fascist. Do we have security on speed dial?” I don’t mind technology — in fact, I love it. It’s what makes my world go ’round from my satellite radio to my Internet connection to my fingernail clippers. (I’m very high tech.) It surrounds me and makes my life easier … until it tries to out-think me. Until it thinks it knows better than me, and talks down to me like a child. “Silly man with your lopsided sideburns, that’s not how you’re supposed to place it on the copier. Let me see if I can fix it for you.” Whrrrrrrr. No! That’s not what I wanted. I want it to copy this way horizontally, or on the side, or however you normally do it every other time I walk over here to copy something. But some little gadget in there — some artificial brain — … Continue reading Looking for a Copier with a Lower IQ