I had an idea today that I was so convinced, for about forty-five minutes, was my big million dollar idea. I was about ready to patent it until I started thinking about it in the larger, global sense and realized it was the worst idea anyone ever, ever came up with ever. Much like the nuclear bomb and the flowbee, this thing would have been a most perfect double edged sword. No, make that a triple edged sword. Alright, fuck the sword, it would be like another nuclear bomb. It's such a bad idea that I'm going to sabotage it thoroughly by telling everyone about it. I'm sure some dick out there will be all like "Wow, what a great idea!" and rip it off but I hate the idea so much that I want this moron to invent it and make millions of dollars just before it turns on him and destroys whole populations, making him the Biggest Dick in the Universe. I super hate this idea.
Basically, the genesis behind this monster was a dying plant. See, my house is filled with them. Every once in a great while, I like to tell myself that I do possess, somewhere in my hollow frame, a capacity to care for things. I don't. My husband and I have two cats and they are still breathing. This is something I love to pat myself on the back for. But the thing is, they wouldn't still be breathing if not for two very important facts. For one thing, they can cry. For hours. Only after about hour three will I arise from my slumber, grunty stomping all over the house, cursing their names for being too stupid to feed themselves. Half the time, they're faking it anyway. How dare they want a snack??
The only other thing keeping these poor creatures from starving to death in a pile of their own excrement is my husband, a man who has more maternal instinct in his middle finger than I have in my whole body. He cleans the litter box, not out of disgust but from a place of genuine concern for their hygiene and well being. He gets up in the middle of the night to give them snacks and comforts them when I callously brush them off my favorite spot on the couch. I love my cats as much as I can love anything but, truth be told, they are sooper dooper annoying and loud and they break what feeble hold I have on concentration at very regular intervals throughout the day. Plus they eat whatever is left of the plants and barf them all over my already hideous carpet.
Which brings me to my invention.
What if someone were to create a small device which could detect when nutrient or water levels are depleted in plants and give off a beeping sound to let plant owners know? What a freaking brilliant idea, right?? Yeah, totally. Let's create another thing that makes using your brain a complete waste of time. Why don't we make carpets that beep every time they need to be vacuumed? Or an alert sound for when the lights need to be turned off? Perhaps when we leave the window open for too long, we can have it beep and shut automatically. Let's make pans that beep whenever your water boils.
Think about what would happen if six or seven of these little plant thingies were going off at random points in time, along with all of your other beeping mechanisms. Every day would be like the Starship Enterprise being ambushed by Klingon warships. You would soon lose all perspective on stressful situations. If a fire alarm went off, it would go unnoticed or at the very least be counted amongst the many mundane sounds surrounding you at all times, leaving you to die in a very boring fire.
Another potential catastrophe to consider would be product malfunction. What happens when the batteries run out on all of your little alarms? What if there is a partial power failure? Since you have become conditioned like a trained puppy to only respond to beeps and whistles, you will no longer possess the coping skills to decide if your pancake is done or if the bathtub is about to overflow. You will be utterly screwed in every possible way.
So, if you don't want to rely on memory alone, I invite you to create a feeding chart for your plants. I probably won't because as I've mentioned before in other posts, I'm extremely lazy. But I refuse to be responsible for the demise of my entire species. I'm sure that some As Seen on TV clown is inventing something similar to what I'm talking about here anyway so it's not like I'm laying out doomsday blueprints or anything. My conscience is clear. But don't say you haven't been warned. Your GPS is but the first stumble on a very slippery slope down Pudding Brain Hill, and the body count at the bottom of that hill is growing by the day.
Godspeed, friend. Oh, look. A peanut.....
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