Saturday, December 07, 2002
Technically, this blog is no longer being written from the Warrior's Den. It is now being written from what is technically the Warrior's Dining Room, although even that is iffy. To be honest, I don't know what we're calling this place now. About a week ago, the computers were all moved out of the den, and moved to what used to be the dining room. Of course, given the fact that no actual dining ever took place in the dining room (and, oddly enough, house rules specify that food is not even allowed in this room, due to the expensive carpet), one would be hard pressed to call this place a dining room anyway. Since no suitable alternative has reared its head yet, I'll just leave this the way it is. Besides, I'm too lazy to determine if there's even an option to rename one of these. Still, I actually kind of like moving the computers to here. In the process, we added wireless capability to our network (to avoid having to run cable to the new room for the DSL) and we've got more space in here. Now all three of the computers can be used at the same time without everyone being crowded in the process. There's still a few bugs in the process (there is currently a duvet cover, AKA the first thing that I found in the closet, covering the window to keep the glare out. The shade is going to be installed shortly) but it should all work out in the end.
Replacing the computers in what is now formerly the den is a rather large Nautilus exercise machine. It was purchased, presumably, with the best of intentions. In many cases, however, this is exactly the type of thing that usually gets used regularly for a week or two, intermittently for a few months, and ultimately ends up gathering dust, finding its way to the next garage sale to come along. It occurs to me that good intentions (and possibly the fitness club market) are what keep manufacturers of exercise equipment in business.
And here's a couple of random musings...
-Why is it that used car lots think that in order to attract customers, it's a good idea to pop the hood open on every single car on the lot and turn on the hazard lights? Does anyone drive by there and wonder if every single car on the lot just broke down simultaneously? This does not exactly seem like the kind of image that a used car dealership wants to be projecting to its potential customers.
-Who decides what items comprise the consumer fads during the holiday season? This year, it seems to be those little remote control cars. They seem to be all over the place. Radio Shark, Mall kiosks, TV ads, even e-mail spam, seems to be endlessly hyping these things as the greatest thing since sliced bread, at a cost of roughly twice what any sane person would think to spend on such an item. Are there a bunch of old guys who sit around in a room full of Tickle-me Elmos, Furbies and other items making the room look like a tornado hit a Toys 'R Us? Do they debate endlessly over the relative merits of Sing 'n Snore Ernie over the Razor Scooter? And when all is said and done, do they emerge to a well-attended press conference, and triumphantly declare a winner? Do the anxious shoppers then race to the toy stores and clamor over the selection, forming the kind of mob usually reserved for European Soccer championships?
-Come to think of it, with all the various Greatest Things that have emerged since bread was first made available in sliced form, how is it that sliced bread has remained the benchmark for so long? When pressed for comment, I wouldn't be surprised
if the guy down at the bakery demanded the camera be turned off and covered up the lens with a hand.
-If you think about it, there might actually be a market for disposable exercise equipment. Just like now, use it for a couple of months, and then whenever you get sick of it, just stick the whole shebang in the recycle bin and forget about it. You might give the sanitation workers a hernia or two, but I bet you could sell millions of the things around New Year's Day.