Where Were You When You Realized: Too Much Technology Can Be a Bad Thing

Sometimes it's the little things in life that get under your skin; the things that you normally don't think about, but that occasionally reach out, smack you upside the head, and demand your attention. I was recently reminded of one such thing yesterday, and thought that picking up the keyboard and writing about it might prove therapeutic. So I'm writing.

When you were a kid, did you ever think about what new gadgets might populate the planet in the future? I'm talking "Jetson" gadgets, here: housekeeping robots, flying cars, semi-talking dogs...and hands-free toilets. Now, my recollection doesn't assign that last item to a Jetsons episode, but it certainly is right up the alley: cool, futuristic, and hassle-free. Well, such was my supposition when, one day at work, they ripped out all of the old "that's so 90's" toilets and put in state-of-the-art replacements. As an added bonus, the landlord also installed futuristic faucets - the kind that would automatically turn on when you held your hands under them, and turn off when you pulled away. I must say that all of us felt quite special with the new additions gracing our facilities. Such amenities were a luxury, so this was something to savor. And savor them, I did. No more touching of dirty bathroom surfaces for me. The future was here, and I was going to take full advantage of it.

Until the problems started.

Now, let's keep in mind, here, how these wondrous hands-free fixtures actually work: They are equipped with a sensor that detects reflected laser light (ie: when your hands pass under the faucet, or you bum is deposited on the porcelain) or clearances when the reflection is removed (ie: opposite of what I wrote before). Well, I don't know if these sensors wear out over time or if I started wearing strange-colored clothing - I just know that the future has not been looking too good of late.

At no time was this reality illustrated more clearly than yesterday evening. So what happened? Well, yesterday evening I was sitting at my desk, working late, when suddenly I became sick. Now, this happens to me occasionally for one reason or another, but until then it had always conveniently occurred at home. You know the kind of sick: The kind where you feel like you've eaten something that doesn't agree with you, and your furious body is determined to expel whatever-it-was out of any and every possible orifice. Yeah. That kind of sick. So I rushed to the nearest facility and did what one normally does when things are threatening to come out both ends in an inopportune place (I'm trying really hard to be as delicate as I can, here): sat down to take care of one end, and prayed very hard that the other end would hold off until the first one was finished. And, um, what happened while I was sitting? The toilet misfired. Yup. The toilet flushed while in use. Well (sill trying to be delicate) I don't know about your facilities, but ours tend to splash during flushage, and I myself have never really relished the prospect of taking a bath in public toilet water. So, I stood up. Waited impatiently for the flush to finish. Sat down again. At this point, I knew the all-too-familiar drill: If I made one movement (ie: reached for the nearby paper), the toilet would misfire again. In its entirety, the drill would be:

Sit.
Reach for paper.
***Toilet Misfire***
Stand.
Sit.
Reach for more paper.
***Toilet Misfire***
Stand.
Sit.....

You get the idea. There have been times when I've been treated to this "wash-rinse-repeat" cycle four or five times during a typical trip to the facilities. I must say, though, that (fortunately for me that night) this time the cycle was only repeated once. I don't know. Maybe I was wearing just the right colored clothes (I had some white on) to get the sensor to operate correctly at least some of the time. At any rate, I was thankful for the single loop. So afterward I was feeling some better, and simultaneously looking thankfully heavenward because I had managed to tamp down the urge to expel out the other end (first time I've ever done that. Amazing what untapped strength one will find when faced with the prospect of ralphing in a public bathroom). Pleased, I walked to the sink to wash my hands. Knowing what was to come, I held the hands under the faucet. Little streams of tepid water slightly wet my fingers. The water stopped. I held them under again. More little streams. The water stopped. Sequence:

Water starts.
***Water stops.***
"D'oh!"
Water starts.
Apply soap.
***Water stops.***
"You stupid...!"
Water starts.
Wash han...
***Water stops.***
"%$!*&!!%!!!"
Repeat.

Pretty clear. So after all this, I have to ask myself: Is the original purpose of installing the hands-free toilets ("they'll use less water!") being fulfilled? Something tells me that 5 or 6 successive flushes per use means "no". And what about the original purpose of the hands-free faucet? Well, to be honest, I'm not really sure what that was. Unless it was designed to frustrate the crap out of sud-soaked bathroom-goers (difficult in and of itself, considering the foregoing). In which case, it's been a glittering success.

Yup. Sometimes the future.....just needs to stay there.

So am I the only one that's had this problem? I've talked to my co-workers, and none of them have ever experienced it. Am I alone in the universe?

The 2006 World Cup

2006. The World Cup. All who have breath hold it in anticipation.
Radio and television outlets advertise their schedules, animated announcers with European accents promise blow-by-blow analysis, and we here in America are giddy with expectation. Or maybe we're just giddy. Because we're laughing. At everyone else. Because most of us could pretty much care less about the whole freaking thing.

So where was I when the World Cub began? While it was going on? When it ended? Sorry. I got nothin'. And something tells me that I'm not alone. Now, don't get me wrong. It's not that we Americans have no regard for football (or, as we prefer to call it: "soccer"). On the contrary, we have entire classes of people (we call them "soccer moms") who shuttle their children off to leagues to learn to play the sport. They learn about competition. And about team spirit. And about how to bounce a medium-sized white ball on their heads. These kids, I'm sure, have a real love for the game - and many of them will probably grow up to be the type of World Cup fans that will do America proud. But most of us weren't raised by soccer moms. No. When we were growing up, the game was baseball - and in those years, parents patted their kids on the head and sent them off to play Little League, or T-ball, or softball, or some other such variant. Baseball, after all, was the great American past-time, and parents wanted to make sure that their kids weren't passing their time with any penny ante sport that involved precious little upper body participation.

And then there was football. True football. The kind of football where large men with great wads of padding try valiantly to injure each other while running a smallish oblong ball up and down a field. The kind of football where, on very special occasions during a game, the large padded men kick the living stuffing out of the oblong ball. Either way, the game has historically had all the elements that Americans love: gladiator-style combat on a bright, sometimes-indoors field (we like it better when its indoors. We don't like getting chilled), the occasional concussion-followed-by-removal-from-the-field, and - if you're lucky - a coach-thrown trantrum on the sidelines. Let's face it, it's macho to the max: No goal guarded by a single overwhelmed goalie in this game. Kidding, right? Real football goals are guarded by entire defensive lines. And when the goals are breached, there is no girlie netting to constrain jubilant, in-your-face, dancing displays of superiority (although those were constrained by P.C. fiat decree. Also very American). Yup. Along with baseball, we were raised on football. Practically weaned on it. This, despite the fact that many a skittish mother has refused to allow her young son to play the game for fear of the inflict of permanent damage to his un-scarred face - or legs, or arms, or what-have-you. Multitudes of American sons, however, have defied their nervous mothers and entered the game - sustaining time-honored injuries in the process. That's also very American.

So given our history of a love for Sports Americana, where does this whole "soccer" thing fit in? Will we one day bow our heads in obeisance because the rest of the world chides our current lack of interest? Will our streets - as those in Europe - one day be deserted in broad daylight because "the soccer game is on"? Well, consider this: It wasn't that long ago that Brandi Chastain became a national hero after the US team took the Women's World Cup in 1999. But it also wasn't that long ago that a resulting fledgling women's league (WUSA) flamed out due at least partially to lack of subsequent American interest. We're fickle that way. That's also very American. So it remains a valid question: Will we one day join the rest of the World and embrace the game of socc...uh...football? Oh, who knows? Yeah, maybe one day some athletic soccer czar will supplant Jeff Gordon on tomorrow's Wheaties box (okay, it was a Mini-Wheats box. Whatever). But don't bet on it. Jeff's got 800 horsepower. And in America, that'll get you a whole lot farther than a little fancy footwork.

So what about you? Do you share my rabid apathy for all things soccer? Were you into the World Cup this year? (oh, and it's an overt foul to say that you were into the head-butt. We were all into the head-butt). Send us your thoughts. We'll keep you posted.

The Reddit Down Vote: What's Up With That?

This article is for all you redditors, out there.
I've got a question, I'm hoping that you can help me with the answer, and I'll get right to it: What makes a redditor down-mod a submission? I'll tell you right now that I've Google'd many articles on this particular subject and most of them didn't make any sense to me. There is, for instance, the classic high-and-mighty "yeah, right" that says that an article should only be down-modded if it's written poorly. The theory maintains that a well-written article should be left happily alone - even if one disagrees with its content. Yeah, that all sounds grand and noble, but it's so much twaddle as far as I'm concerned. An exquisitely-written article that provides instruction on baby harp seal killing is destined for a date with the down arrow as far as I'm concerned. Let's face it: Sometimes, content trumps style. But what about other articles? What about submissions that are from all appearances interesting, timely, and even helpful? Why do they get voted down? Case in point: A little while ago, I ran across an article discussing a gene therapy that had been used to successfully reverse sickle cell anemia. Sicle cell anemia! That's a serious problem that is probably faced by millions of people, and here a poster had discovered an article that offered a little beacon of hope. Hope that perhaps many people didn't even know existed. The article had a score of 1. Included in that score was a single down vote. Now, not even dealing with the paltry number of up-votes, how could someone vote something like that down? I mean, that's like voting down a post that announces the discovery of a cure for cancer. What's up with that? I felt sorry for the post and modded it up to protest the injustice - at the same time, asking myself: What in the world goes through people's minds? And here's the kicker: Today I ran across an article that asked readers to download an engine that would allow their computer power to aid in cancer research. That article had a more respectable 4 points (still with 2 down votes, though!). So why was this submission more worthy than the other? And for that matter, what was behind those 2 down votes? Is there a disturbance in the force that I am unaware of? Someone give me a clue, here, because I sure can't beg, borrow or steal a decent one for myself. I got nothin' but the few clues that I've run across in my reading, and they are listed below. Do any of these make sense? Are there reasons that I haven't thought of?

Theories:

1. No matter what the content, new articles get voted down because they are competing with someone else's submission. For the post from user "itsallaboutme" to live, the competition must die.
2. The article touches on a personal pet peeve. I've down-modded one or two submissions that committed this sin, myself, but I can't see how the two above examples apply.
3. Users check out another person's karma to help them make a decision about upping or downing an article. Good is up, bad is down. If this is the case, what's the magic karma threshold?
4. The article is a dupe, and so must die no matter how excruciatingly exquisite the content.
   

Hey, that's all I got, folks. What am I missing?

Where Were You The First Time You...

Okay, an anonymous poster has suggested a new topic of discussion. You can read Anonymous' comment here.
Here at M2M, I want to keep my readers happy - so I am pleased to announce the birth of the "Where were you the First Time You..?" page. Wait! Don't get too excited! As my reply to Anonymous suggests, there is one particular topic that will be off limits (if you don't know what that is, think about the last "very special" episode of any teen oriented TV program you've ever seen). But anything other than that is fair game....within reason. Obviously, your story about where you were when you stole your first car might come under a little scrutiny. But you get the idea.

So have fun, and remember that all comments are moderated, so your post won't appear right away.