Treat Appliances with Respect and They Will Gladly Obey You
News Item:
Scientists at Princeton University have concluded that human test subjects can use their thoughts to influence the work of machines. While they cannot say what control mechanism might be involved, the scientists say their subjects can influence machines in the same room, or on the other side of the continent.
I called up the scientists and told them I wanted to volunteer as a test subject. I’ve been using my brainwaves to control machines for years, things like the vacuum cleaner and the washing machine. I can make the furnace do things and the garage door opener is a snap. I do admit, though, that I have a hard time getting through to the garbage disposal. He’s a little on the dense side.
But those scientists told me I wouldn’t make a good test subject. I’m too contaminated.
Excuse me! Contaminated?
Their test subjects are babies, compared to me. They can influence balls cascading down a chute and randomly falling into baskets. That’s not even crawling and babbling, “Goo, goo,” compared to me.
Listen, I can be up in the bedroom on the second floor and I suddenly remember that I started the washing machine down in the basement but forgot to put soap in. I just call, ever so softly, “George, stop. No soap.” And he stops. I go down and put in the soap and then say, “George, start.” He starts up and — get this — in the same place in his cycle.
Yeah, all my machines have names. They respond better if you give them names and treat them with respect. Who doesn’t feel better about themselves if they’re shown a little respect?
The washing machine’s name is George Washing Machine. Get it? Heh, heh.
The iron has a clever name. Irony J. Peabody. I call the dishwasher Daisy Featherduster.
I even named the doorbell. Chimealot. I can make Chimealot ring and ring just by focusing my brainwaves on her. Sometimes I ring Chimealot again and again to irritate the garbage disposal. Eventually, he’ll growl at me. It’s his way of telling me to stop.
The fool! When he growls to get me to stop tormenting him with Chimealot, he betrays himself. His growl is how I know that he knows perfectly well what I’m saying to him with my brainwaves. It’s just that he doesn’t want to obey. I think he has submission issues.
I have a name for him, but it’s not printable. Well, maybe it is. Are we PG-13? Yeah, why not? His name is Asshole.
Okay. Okay. I see the contradiction here, about treating machines with respect. You’re saying no wonder he won’t obey if I insist on calling him Asshole.
You’re probably right. He should have a decent name. Poor guy, spending all his time chewing up all this crap that rains down on him and then sending it on. Never gets any thanks. Anybody would be a grouch with a job like that.
I should give him a proper name. I’ve thought about calling him Herman Crudcruncher. That’s respectful, isn’t it? But you know what? Everytime I think about giving him a nice name, I realize that I just don’t like him.
So screw it! Asshole he is, and Asshole he shall remain.
But I’m still steaming about those scientists telling me I can’t be a test subject. Contaminated, indeed!
What I should do is figure out where the head of the laboratory lives. It’s probably in some leafy suburb in a grand house with a garage and a garage door opener. I could sit in my car outside his house and use my brainwaves to make the garage door go up and down. Up and down. Up and down. Up and down.
Then when he came out to see what was going on, I could jump out of my car and introduce myself. I’ll bet he would agree to let me be a test subject.
What do you think? Is that a plan or what?