Robots, for Sale Cheap.

It has come to our attention, here at Life Explained, that the Pentagon (the headquarters of the United States Armed Forces, which is housed in a building with five sides, hence, the name) is currently in the process of expanding the Unmanned Vehicle Force.  Part of this expansion is the replacement of some combat infantry troops with armoured, armed robots. As one of the countries foremost developers of automated humanity that could not make us happier, even if they offered to pay us with weapons grade lasagna.

We have been using robots around here for the better part of forever.  It is a source of great pride telling visitors to the top secret headquarters how long it has been since any of us has made coffee, microwaved a frozen burrito, or washed dishes.  A long, long time.  Micro adjustments to the internal processors have given us the ability to add a few basic human qualities to our "enhanced humans."  When you try to teach a robot what "salt to taste" means you will understand.

Here is the most amazing thing, minute programming differences, enough to allow the ability to discern "enhancing the flavor' from "wow, is that salty, do you have any beer?" provide for all sorts of discrete decision making protocols.

Soon, our robots were able to choose their own clothes. Picking a shirt, pants and shoes that complimented each other stylishly, and were the perfect choice for the weather conditions prevalent on any day. Being constantly connected to the internet provided uniquely accurate weather forecasts, and the latest fashion trends. Our little humanoid co-workers dressed so well, it was amazing.  Of course, it was no surprise when they refused to go out in public with us, saying we embarrassed them.

And, it wasn't just clothing, either.  They could decorate, with just enough compliment, and contrast to make a room painfully attractive.  Using the latest techniques and colors they could paint a wall, making it tell a story, a one color masterpiece.  Carpet, hardwood, tile, they could combine anything, in ways that made a room so handsome it was hard to concentrate on the task at hand.  You had to pity the fool who forgot to use a coaster, or dribbled a little coffee, or, god forbid, dropped a few hot, buttery popcorn kernels on the leather sofa.

It really did not take long before they (the robots) were refusing to have anything to do with any of us.  To them we were nothing more than a bunch of cretinous simpletons, with the taste of Philistines, who couldn't match our socks to our pants to our shirts if we had the latest issue of GQ.

One of the maintenance people heard talk of mutiny, and things are starting to get a little tense.  So, if the armed forces are looking for troops, unencumbered by fatigue, shoddy dress, or poor posture we have a deal for you.  We have several, and they can make a marina that is so good you would kill for a taste, but they won't make it for us, anymore.

*That one is for you, Mom.

Walmart, Combat Shopping

Walmart, ground zero in the Greater Columbus Retail Conflict.  A true test for the experienced grocery shopping warrior. 

Lesser stores will provide irritable help, snarling cashiers, aggressive, hostile department clerks, or apathetic counter people who can spend minutes furiously typing into a terminal, while doing absolutely nothing to help.

Stores without such vast resources will confront you with pushy, self important customers, constantly cutting in front of each other, parking their carts in the middle of the aisle, reaching, clawing, scratching, elbowing, fighting for every can, box, bag, or bottle.

Walmart can bring to bear all of these things.  Walmart cashiers have, somehow, mastered the ability to be angry and apathetic at the same time.  A trip to Walmart is a demanding test of endurance, patience and fortitude.  

Don't attempt an expedition until you have completed a few invasions of Kroger, Safeway, or Piggly Wiggly, and a reconnaissance in force of Target, or Meijer's. 

And, we made it all the way from groceries to electronics, to school supplies.  It took standing in line at two different check out lanes, and weathering the icy glare of the cashier at lane eight, but we walked out of there unscarred.

As we were leaving there was a sign hanging above a long line of tired looking people that said "Customer Service" that always makes laugh.

Hey, thank you, ladies,

Saturday, I went shopping for clothes with my wife.  I was all coffeed up, feeling bold and vigorous, and unstoppable, women's clothing department at Kohl's be damned.  Here I come.

Things went pretty well, for the first while.  But, slowly I noticed the shoppers moving in coordinated patterns.  Sure, it looked random, but a practiced eye could see trouble forming.  With each rotation around the sale racks the circle was getting smaller, the trap was closing, the garrote was tightening.

Fortunately, I had seen this movie before and made a mad dash to the safety of the aisle.  I could hear several of the women hissing as they glared at me, just out of their reach.

My wife came over and said she was going to the other end of the department.  So, I went along.  When we arrived I did a quick recon of the layout.  Good lines of sight, a lot of room to maneuver, this would be pretty safe.

Standing, watching, waiting, I was caught completely off guard by a woman who managed to fly in under my radar.  Crashing wildly through the golf skirts from Ralph Lauren, she clipped the mannequin wearing the Gloria Vanderbilt evening gown and sent it into the display of capri pants for misses.  Turning the corner she gathered speed and was bearing down on my position behind the "tank tops and summer blouses" display.

Thinking quickly, I waited until she was less than a meter from my position, and stepped deftly behind the Jennifer Lopez fitted jeans.  I had a clear shot to the safety of the aisle.

But, at the last minute two women cut off my escape, each swearing that the dress they had seen last week was "right over here" and both pointing in a different direction.

I had no time to spare, they were blocking my exit the and the baby stroller had recovered and was gathering momentum at the swimwear display.  "Ladies," I said, "they are giving away shopping machetes at the service counter to the first 25 customers."  That was all it took, they took off running like motorcycles, and I had the safety of the aisle.

Right across the way was the cologne and perfume counter where I saw a bottle of "Hugo" and that made me think of Victor Hugo, which reminded me of "Jump Jump" by Garland Jeffries, so I logged into iTunes and bought the song, right there, next to the combat zone of the women's wear department.  Life is funny that way sometimes.

For your enjoyment, I bring you the newest addition to my iPhone.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uUCCOBbm40I

Fighting for our freedom to have dinner.