Dirty Dishes

I grew up in a somewhat cash strapped household. We had a house, one car, food, and nice hand-me -down clothes, everything else was a luxury that we enjoyed while over at a friends house. I’m positive that my mother wore the same navy blue polyester pants and white tennis shoes for my entire childhood. I distinctly remember the day we got our first microwave oven, in 1991. It was a least a full 5 (if not more) years after everyone we knew in the world had a microwave. As my dad and two other people lifted the mammoth onto its new cart-home in the corner of the kitchen I shouted: “WELCOME TO THE 1980′S EVERYONE!” We could now unevenly heat any meal we felt like. It was a momentous day.

We got our first television set that same year. My parents must have hit some secret lottery. Or maybe sold a younger sibling on the black market for extra cash. I suspect the latter, because gambling is a sin. What ever the case in 1991 we began to move solidly into the lower middle class. Prior to Christmas 1991 our television viewing had been limited to whatever old, half-broken set had been donated to us. Those TV’s never lasted long and were generally hard to watch through the rolling or crazy colors of the failing picture tube. So as my dad and 4 other people moved the giant TV console into our family room I shouted: “WELCOME TO THE 1950′S EVERYONE!” I wasn’t very original.

We never had a computer at home. I never learned how to use one. I believe that not knowing how to use a computer and being too shy to ask is the reason I couldn’t finish college. If only that black market baby money had gone farther, I could have had a computer and possibly a college degree. Oh the humanity.

The fact is that today technology is everywhere, and I couldn’t really avoid it if I wanted to. There wasn’t really a snowballs chance in hell that my kids would grow up the same way I did. We have a microwave. We have 5 TV’s. We have the ability to pause and record live TV. We have several computers. We have cell phones. We have goddamn toys that can talk!

When I was little I would always pretend that my stuffed animals could talk back to me. I spent hours imagining what they would say. A couple of days ago Sunny and Leo each got a Furby toy. This is a toy that will actually talk back to you. Seriously. You talk to the thing, it talks back, tells you a joke, sings a song, does a little dance, then asks to go to bed. I don’t think toy makers understand the ramifications of making such a toy: that children of the future will have no imagination. But somehow I don’t think I need to worry about my kids in the imagination department.

As soon as the kids got home with their prize Furbys, and unpacked them, they ran straight into Leo’s room and began yelling at them. “Hey Furby!” “HEY Furby!” “HEY FURBY!”, desperately trying to illicit a response from the thing. A few minutes later Sunny came out of the room, and we could hear Leo bawling. So I asked Sunny if she knew why Leo was crying, she said;

“He’s crying because his Furby said he was stupid and he hated him.”

Now I ask you people, do we need toys that talk when they only have ugly, negative things to say? Is technology really helping us at all? All the images of ultra skinny actress on TV. All the advertising promoting soul crushing consumerism. All the unevenly heated microwave food! And now, even though there is NO POSSIBLE WAY that Leo’s Furby actually said those things, NOW we have name calling toys. As my mother would say, it’s a sign of the times and the end is upon us. Amen.

(it just looks evil, doesn’t it)