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Jewish World Review Sept. 27, 2005 / 23 Elul, 5765 The future of nagging is barking up the wrong tree By David Grimes
http://www.JewishWorldReview.com |
As part of their never-ending quest to make our lives as miserable as possible, scientists have created a robotic dog that tells us when we've gained weight.
The device, perversely called a "canine entertainment robot," can be hooked up to the bathroom scales, a pedometer and a personal organizer in which the owner would record his daily food intake.
When asked "How am I?" the robot would either jump excitedly, play funky music and flash colored lights, or flop down and play a dirge, according to whether the owner has followed his or her diet.
Although this particular robot is still in its developmental stages, it's clearly just a matter of time before "canine entertainment robots" become more sophisticated and better able to nag us about all aspects of our lives.
"Good morning, sir. Time to get up."
(Groggily) "Uh? What time is it?"
"It's 6 a.m., sir. Time for your morning jog."
"Please. I was up until 2 last night. Let me sleep."
"Yes, sir. I am well aware of that. According to my memory chip, you consumed four beers, two whiskey sours and one of something called Sex on the Beach. I am unclear as to the ingredients of that particular cocktail. Could you enlighten me?"
"Uh ... vodka, Chambord ... I don't feel so good ..."
"Understandably, sir. That is why you will be jogging an extra two miles this morning."
"Leave me alone, you sick (bad word)."
"If you please, sir, there is no need for profanity. I am merely urging you to perform vigorous exercise in order to purge the poisons from your system. As always, my only concern is your health and well-being."
"Why don't you go chew on a slipper or something and let me sleep?"
"I do not chew on slippers, sir. I am a canine entertainment robot. I do not need food, water or daily walks. I do not shed, bark at TV doorbells or stain the carpet. I am, in all respects, the perfect companion."
"Then fix me some breakfast."
"Certainly, sir. May I suggest a bowl of bran flakes, a slice of melon and a cup of chamomile tea?"
"I was thinking more along the lines of a rasher of bacon, two eggs sunny-side up and a Bloody Mary."
"I am afraid that is out of the question, sir, given your cholesterol and triglyceride readings. Also, if you are interested, I have plotted a graph of your weekly weight gains dating back to Sept. 12, 2000. It is — and I am not given to metaphors, sir — not a pretty picture."
"You know, you look a little pale. Maybe a week or two by the seashore would do you good."
"If you are hoping that salt air would cause me to rust and thereby impair my functions, you are, as we robotic dogs like to say, barking up the wrong tree. I am made of a titanium alloy that is impervious to corrosion. Shall I fetch your jogging suit now?"
"I would rather you fetched my gun."
"I'm sorry, sir, but I melted down your gun with my laser vision. Firearms are very dangerous, particularly in the hands of someone who drinks as much as you do."
"I should have gotten a guinea pig."
"I can recommend one, sir. It's made of stainless steel and will tell you when your nostril hairs have grown obnoxiously long."
"Just shoot me."
"No gun, remember?"
(Ungghhh.)
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JWR contributor David Grimes is a columnist for The Sarasota Herald Tribune. Comment by clicking here. © 2005, Sarasota Herald Tribune |
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