Tin Can Phone

 


“Science may never come up with a better office communication system than the coffee break.”

Earl Wilson

Or the Tin Can Phone.

In the old days people lived communally in a large hut and communication was easy. Everybody was within earshot and everybody heard and understood the meaning of the slightest grunt.

Today, with people living in larger accommodations, keeping in touch with your entourage is a tad more difficult.
Based on experience, I will say that it is a fairly common practice for a woman (busying herself in a different room of the house) to yell a question or a request to her husband.
The problem when using this crude method of communication is that it is often compounded by external noises (barking dog, passing airplane or radio) that make this kind of exchange difficult.

To me, nothing beats face-to-face communication. You only engage in a conversation when you see the white of the eyes of your interlocutor.
But for some women this is not evident.
To convey their message they first try telepathy, and when this fails, out of sheer frustration they shout.

Many men choose to ignore clamors originating from another room. If they don’t see the originator of the sound, they treat it as an auditory illusion generated by atmospheric conditions.
Most of the men would agree that it is a reasonable assumption.
But it can lead alas, to misunderstandings and conflicts.

tin-can-telephone

To remedy this problem, I am planning to install a Tin Can Phone in every room of my house. It worked when I was a kid and it should work equally well today.

It is cheap (two tin cans and a taut wire) efficient and easy to install.

It will be like the Moscow-Washington hotline linking the Pentagon with the Kremlin.
In any relationship, it is a must-have apparatus designed to defuse a crisis between two nuclear-armed partners.

Why not using a cell phone, are you going to ask?
Too high tech. Too prone to interferences. In constant need of updates. Expensive. Fragile.
You can drop your Tin Can Phone a hundred times without incurring any damage.
Can you say this about your Smart Phone?

If you seem to have a problem communicating with your spouse, please use a reliable, battle tested Tin Can Phone.

Alain

Catwalkers

Once in a while I get a glimpse of a fashion show.
The catwalk almost exclusively showcases emaciated, flat chested, androgynous looking creatures.
They walk funny, they wear the funkiest clothes and they never smile. They ooze as much personality as a broomstick and they are constantly pouting.

In spite of their high salaries, they are unhappy and always aspire to do something more “fulfilling”.
These dour looking souls are models (for whom?), and young women everywhere aspire to emulate them.
Why?

If I had my way, porn stars would replace these gloomy looking androids.
They are generally better endowed, they smile, they act, and they seem to enjoy their work.
They are also approachable, willing to sign autographs and available for private parties.

And men can relate to porn stars. They might even know them personally. This type of relationship would create bonds, and nothing sells more than bonds.
Since men often end up footing the bill for these extravagant outfits, this switch could be a forward looking business decision geared to entice more big spenders to attend fashion shows.

So what do you say mister designer?
Give us a break. Forget the bitchy and unhappy models and hire women we can relate to. A little sleaze never hurt business, au contraire.

The secret of happiness is to be happy in your work.
“Whoever does not love his work cannot hope that it will please others.”

Models, or former models could easily find work as bank tellers or custom agents and these occupations might be better suited to their quirky personalities.

Alain

PS: ex-models might also like the fact that they would not have to wear these ankle-breaking shoes dreamed up by demented misogynous “designers”.

 

The rage against the machine

Today, not a single day goes by without the media mentioning ISIS (Islamic State of Iraq and Syria) and its infamous acts of brutality and inhumanity.
Their heinous deeds are splashed on the front page of every newspaper, magazine or news bulletin.

ISIS “in your face” type of actions seem to act as a magnet for disaffected youth all over the world.
Its violent credo appeals to discontented young people (often issued from the immigration) who have proved unable to adapt and succeed in their adopted country.

Often due to peer pressure, they shun schools and education to conform to the rules of their toxic environment. They are nobodies in a world that rewards go-getters and looks down on underachievers.
Jihad”, they are told is the righteous way to freedom and glory!
By joining fellow misfits they feel accepted as equals instead of being ostracized by the establishment.

Jihad is a war or “struggle” against “unbelievers” (or perceived oppressors) that allows fighters to express their pent-up rage against the machine.
Jihadists often don’t have a clear idea of what they are fighting for, but the “struggle” empowers them and gives them absolute control over thousands of powerless people.
Keeping women totally subjugated also seem to be very appealing.

But a strict Islamic state (under harsh Sharia rule) might not be what they were seeking. And if they survive, they might become prisoners of a barbarous medieval system that they might not be prepared for, because the tyranny of any theocracy can be worse than any dictatorship.

ISIS is hostile to Sikhs, Hindus, Buddhists, Jews (naturally), Zoroastrians, pagans, atheists, Christians, and to top it all fellow Shia Muslims.
Is there anybody else left to hate?

Rafale_001But with the world slowly but inexorably mobilizing against ISIS, the “Caliphate’s” glory will be short-lived.
Even chronically wishy-washy French President François Hollande managed to grow a spine and dispatch Rafale fighter jets to the fray.
They just launched their first airstrike against ISIS in Iraq.

“Those who live by the sword shall (undoubtedly) perish with the sword.”

Alain