Worth the trip

The other morning, I got up, dressed, jumped in my car, and drove for fifteen minutes to a hamburger stand. Why would I do this? They don’t serve burgers in the morning. What they serve is mediocre breakfast sandwiches. But they also serve an actual, honest cup of coffee. Some of you probably remember those. Ground roasted beans, exposed to water, and drunk from a cardboard cup. You know regular old coffee.

I’d like to add I drove past three supposed coffee houses on the way to this place. As I’ve stated in several other posts, coffee houses no longer serve coffee. Those places are new and modern. The beans are sourced from Kenya, Sumatra, and Oz for all I know. Maybe not Oz. Somehow, I’m thinking Wicked Witch blend would probably be picked while still green, and likely very bad. On the other hand, Galinda blend might make me popular. I’m just saying.

And that ain’t beans

Wherever they come, from those rare select beans are roasted at three different temperatures, and blended to have notes of chocolate and bitter almonds. If I ever smell bitter almonds in something I’m drinking, it’s going down the drain. That’s cyanide folks!! Connoisseurs may like the flavor, but I’m not taking any chances.

Coffee houses also have baristas, who hand-craft your beverage. They heat the grounds with steam and add each additional element with love. If I want steamy love, I’ll watch a daytime drama. I just want an old fashioned, mass produce, cup of joe, made in a shiny stainless-steel machine with the word ‘BUNN’ on the front. You know coffee.

Sometimes I like to add cream. You remember cream. It comes from a cow. Not soy, oats, coconuts, or a non-dairy chemical plant, and free from allergens like the baristas use. For me cream should taste like heavy milk. Not peppermint, French vanilla, caramel, hazelnuts, or imported Swiss chocolate affectionately melted by dragon fire. I could go on about the two types of sugar and three kinds of sweetener as well. However, I think I made my point. I wanted something the world calls old-fashioned and it’s getting harder to get all the time.

Now that’s easy

The thing that gets me is the coffee I like best is super easy to make. Coffee places don’t want easy. They want to show all the effort they put into everything they do. You’re supposed to think, “Wow! They’re going to all that effort, and it’s just for me.” After that you’re supposed to leave them a large tip. That’s another reason I don’t go to those places. But I digress.

Now that I’ve told you all how complicated coffee is, I have to switch gears. You can do all this stuff at home. My sister has a machine where you put a little cup thingy in the mystery slot, and all those strange beverages come out. No barista or loving preparation required. Plus, the thing does regular old coffee too.

So, just as I’m complaining that things are getting harder, along comes a machine that makes it all easier. I’m so confused. With things getting easier and harder all at the same time, I swear, the future is getting just too futuristic for the future. Take my computer for instance. Ohh, how I wish someone would take my computer… And then toss it into the nearest lake. But that’s beside the point. Let me get back on track.

I give it a pass

Think about this: The modern world created passwords to protect your modern data. Grumble, Grumble. I had to remember a million passwords to keep my data straight. I accepted this until my computer told me it could save all my passwords so I didn’t need to remember them. Yea me! Or not!

How do they think the computer remembering everything could possibly be secure? Somewhere in my machine there has to be a file with all of them listed. And since all computers use one of two operating systems those secure files will all be called the same thing. Hackers are smart. All they need to know is the file name and have access to Google. They sneak into my computer and viola; they have all my passwords. Essentially, I’m posting all my secure passwords on the web. Not so secure now. Is it?

Way back when, I wrote down the million passwords I needed to remember. All the experts told me that’s BAD. What if someone broke into my house and stole the list. Look I see the news. There are certain requirements for breaking into my house. One of the main ones is, knowing where my house is and being there. Internet baddies don’t need to do that. They have programs to access all kinds of stuff, without leaving the couch. My written list is far more secure.

And that’s word!!

The problem is; we’re lazy. We let Google save our passwords, and think it’s all okay. Then we forget them. This isn’t a problem until the computer updates and forgets them all, like it did last week. Now I’m really secure, because neither of us know what they are. I spent five days trying to log into my stuff, and the computer treated me like a criminal. I kept having to press the ‘Forgot My Password’ button, and hope I have my username right.

I actually tried to find a criminal to hack into my computer so I could do my everyday stuff. Sadly, I couldn’t find one. Sure, they were all over me when I had to replace my debit card seven times because it had been compromised. But do you think I could find one to help me for a minute? Nope! Folks complain about the police, but truly neither side of the law is around when you need them.

Prove it!

Of course, I had to prove I was me every time I tried to log into my stuff. They asked me various security questions like the name of my dog. The thing is I didn’t know what I wrote in the first place. Did I capitalize the ‘W’ in Wonder dog? Or the ‘D’? Did I make it one word or two? I don’t know? That was years ago. It might’ve even been when I had my previous dog. Who knows?

Next, their machine tries to figure out if I’m a computer or not. They show me pictures and ask which ones have stoplights. As if computers can’t recognize stoplights. I took a picture of one just the other day and my phone not only identified it. It gave me a history of lights in general. Their pictures prove nothing. And don’t get me started about those curvy letters. A computer created those letters, of course it can recognize them. Duh?

Some times there’s just a box saying, “I’m not a robot?” Am I supposed to believe a robot can’t check a box? They have robots that can do calculous, fold laundry, recognize my face, and give emotional support to my cat. How did box checking never get into their programing? The real issue is AI feels guilty if it lies, saying it’s not a robot.

And Nobody Wants AI With Emotional Issues!!