Don’t think for me

I just can’t take it anymore. Too many things are trying to think for me. I’m looking at you, Facebook. And you, fancy cars. Pandora, you’re excused because I think you’re a little, well, special when it comes to thinking for people so you’re off the hook. (Hint: A piano-only instrumental version of Madonna’s Material Girl does not belong on my REM station, kthx.)

people i def dont know
But back to you, Facebook and fancy cars. You know that column on the side of your Facebook feed that suggests “People You May Know”? In fact I don’t know them, Facebook. I barely know the one mutual friend you’re saying we have so no, I don’t know this person and certainly don’t want to be one more of her 872 “friends” and I don’t want these weird people in their weird zombie costumes leering at me from my news feed.

And now I can buy (well, I can’t, since my money tree didn’t sprout) a car that can apply the brakes and stop the car before I even know there’s a small neighbor child behind my vehicle as I’m backing up. Will I be glad my neighbors have said vehicle if it’s my child behind them as they’re backing up? Yes. Do I think that taking this type of responsibility out of our hands allows our paying-attention muscles to atrophy? Also yes.

48 hours of lies
Don’t get me started on deodorant. Some of us sweat a lot. Have you ever seen me wear a white t-shirt? Not more than once you haven’t, I promise. And yet almost all the deodorants out there advertise “48 hours guaranteed!” on their ergonomic little caps. 48 hours…in my car and it won’t melt? 48 hours….after I forget to apply it I’ll still be wondering if the people next to me at church could tell that stink aura was me? 48 hours is twice the protection even the Secret Service can offer. Surely you don’t mean to imply that your product protects me from perspiring and odorizing for 48 hours. First, you’re wrong, I’ve never met a deodorant that could do that and second, I like to think a shower could be involved in that time span. And third, again, you’re wrong. Don’t get my hopes up. Stop lying to my pits.

 frozen falsehoods

Now, what’s this I see? An easy scoop package? Why, that must mean scoopage from this particular container, by dint of its design or the product therein, is easier than scoopage of competitors’ products from competitors’ cartons. FALSE. This brand, and this carton in particular, are a special kind of crappy. I’ll know this is an easy scoop package when I try scooping from it and exclaim with elation, “Egad! This is easy scooping!” Or not. Liars.

I really hate it when people and products try to think for me. I can do my own thinking and my own determining of what’s an easy scoop package and what’s the ice cream equivalent of Sochi. Besides, I feel a little cheated. If Facebook can tell me who I may like to be pretend friends with and my deodorant lasts longer than some wildlife, where is the queen size fitted sheet that folds itself, hmmm??

Disaster. Di.saster.


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