Prince Philip is the tall chap who married the queen of England, enjoys making beautifully inappropriate comments, and feels intimate contact with his television might be necessary in order to make it work.
In a revealing interview, only some of which seems to have appeared on the Buckingham Palace YouTube channel, the prince laid bare his electrical dysfunction, one that many might, secretly or not, actually share.
His interviewer, a rather well spoken chap called Kevin McCloud, brightened up the pages of London's Times newspaper with some of the prince's heartfelt words.
Perhaps the most elegant of the phrases turned by the 88-year-old prince was: "To work out how to operate a television set, you practically have to make love to the thing."
It has never been my habit to wonder about the conjugal behavior of the regal.
However, once one's mind goes quickly beyond boggling in order to consider how one might make one's plasma pulse race, one begins to appreciate that many people do find it rather difficult to grasp even 10 percent of their gizmos' workings.
Of course, the prince's imagery is so disconcerting that I wonder just what actions came immediately before the creation of, for example, Prince Charles.
However, Phil the Greek, as he is sometimes known in pejorative circles, will no doubt receive some sympathy for his giddy criticism of technology's grave new world. Why can't things be just blindingly simple, especially for those whose eyes are not quite what they used to be?
Not satiated with his criticism of televisual operations, the prince turned his mind and, one feared, his devilishly seductive eyes, toward the Web.
"The Web sites I've seen are so awful it's untrue," he told McCloud. "They're so unfit for purpose I'm surprised anyone tolerates them."
Surely he has a point. There are so many ill-designed sites on the Web that one's eyes sometimes water with pain. However, given the prince's somewhat outre position on the subject of televisions, many will find themselves caught in the uncomfortable posture of now considering which Web sites the prince has, um, actually visited.
Please might readers suggest something appropriate, as I fear my own thinking has been addled and muddled by the prince's highly colorful imagery.
Despite their calm demeanor and sweet, jovial humanity, it appears that the British are Europe's worst sleepers.
Sixteen percent of Brits claim their nights are not like white satin. (The finest European sleepers are, in fact, the Spanish, of whom only 2.4 percent report problems. We can learn a lot from the Spanish.)
While the British do accuse stresses associated with their jobs, their bank accounts, or their miserable spouses of keeping them up and getting them down, there is a new abomination for insomniacs: gadgets.
Yes, we can now happily diagnose a new disease for which some fine commercial entity might create a pill: electronic insomnia.
(Credit:
CC Lee Nachtigal)
BlackBerrys, laptops and cell phones are triggering problems before bedtime, problems that creep into sleep like lice into locks. It seems that men over 30 find it hardest to switch off because they can't switch their gadgets off.
You'd think the traditional British remedy of eight pints of lager would do the trick, but apparently not.
If only Circuit City had hung on a little longer, it might have promoted the hell out of this.
The Vatican's official newspaper, Osservatore Romano, has decided to credit a household gadget--the washing machine--with being one of main reasons for female emancipation in the 20th century.
The article enjoyed a headline that positively rippled with gaiety: "The Washing Machine and the Emancipation of Women--Put in the Powder, Close the Lid and Relax."
It suggested that the humble washing machine might have done more to liberate contemporary womanhood than, say, the contraceptive pill, or being able to get a job in an office with a bunch of unreconstructed, leering men. (Oh, I know at least one of you has watched "Mad Men.")
While I know that many might revere gadgets for making our lives easier and more enjoyable--men would not be men without the Rubik Cube mp3 player or the computer-controlled coffee roaster --I wonder whether the washing machine really can be ranked above, say, women getting the vote.
The vote was not granted to women in, for example, Switzerland until 1971. This compares perhaps unfavorably with the timing of the world's first automatic washing machine, which appears have to have been introduced by the Bendix Corporation in 1937.
Perhaps the Swiss were waiting for all women to have a washing machine, so that they would all have an equal chance of popping down to the polling station.
Oh, in case you're wondering why the Vatican's newspaper took on such a challenging topic, well, March 8 was International Women's Day. And something had to be said to celebrate that, didn't it?
I am told by those who cycle, jog and rob banks that if you're wearing an iPod with earphones, it's quite hard to be aware of imminent dangers. Like buses and cars and policemen.
So some extremely ingenious Koreans have designed a vest-like contraption, called the Sound Walk, that allows you to enjoy speakers built into your shoulder pads.
It looks a little like a harness from a children's army brigade, but you simply slip your iPod, Zune or other player into a pocket at the front which is wired up to the speakers in your shoulder pads.
A spokesman for the company launching this invention in the UK and Europe told the Telegraph: "Even though the speakers are loud enough for the user, people standing just beside even wont hear much because of where the speakers are placed, below the ear, on the shoulder."
I know you're already wondering how much this vest retails for. Well, in the UK it will be 39 pounds, which at current exchange rate (extremely fluid) is around $55.
What I'm already wondering is whether the outside world will soon be assaulted by thousands of extremely noisy runners, bikers, cyclists or even, bless them, hikers, who will be happily polluting the atmosphere with Milli Vanilli, "Twilight" soundtracks, "American Idol" downloads or even, bless him, Wagner.
Somehow, I may be even more reluctant than currently to give some of these bozos right of way.
Now, if they're blaring a little M83, Fleet Foxes or, ahem, Duran Duran, then I will, naturally, lay down my cape over any puddle in their path.
How do you measure your own happiness?
These are, apparently, Howdy gadget cases. Might these make you feel happier about your gadget?
(Credit: CC Yvonne (bijoux and crafts))Do you gauge the tingly feeling in your fingers? Or perhaps the slightly giddy sensation just above your belly button? Do you wait until you cry before you know you are really happy? Or do you merely wait until you are drunk?
I only ask because something called the Gadget Helpline surveyed 2,500 of its most helpless customers and discovered that the Nintendo Wii is the electronic device they would most like to marry.
OK, so the actual measure was this nebulous concept called "happiness."
Naturally, the Gadget Helpline cobbled this survey together in order to gain a little publicity. And it makes me excruciatingly giddy in the pit of my digestive system to help them with this.
Now for the more substantive point. Did people say it was their Wii that made them happiest because this is the gadget that gave them the most social pleasure? With the Wii, you are often playing with someone. Any joy experienced, therefore, is often shared. You can talk about your rasping forehand afterward in the pub. Or in the clinic. Or, for that matter, bed.
While the second-place Apple iPod is a fine device, the people who might share it with you are those on the 7:30 train who might not appreciate your fondness for the Stranglers.
In case you were wondering, placing third on the happy-gadget survey was Apple's very singular iPhone 3G, while fourth place went to the still-sociable Microsoft Xbox.
So I would like you to go home this weekend and really think very, very deeply about which gadgets make you the happiest and why.
You see, in the survey, ninth place was enjoyed by the TomTom 930 Satellite Navigation System. How can a navigation system ever make people happy? Unless those people were a post-nuclear holocaust Lewis and Clark.
So, here it is. All members of your target sex have been destroyed. Somehow, all the world's gadgets have survived. Which one would you marry?
I am all for progress. But I am also all for my eyeballs. I went to the eye doctor the other day, and he said those strange flashes in my eye were nothing serious.
Now I'm thinking I'm part of an experiment, one I know nothing about.
You see, Ian Pearson, a man whose job title is 'futurologist', claims that in 10 years' time, we will all be able to insert a TV screen onto our eyeballs via contact lenses.
He told the Daily Mail: "You will just pop it into your eye in the morning and take it out at the end of the day." But would that mean I would be forced to watch The Young and the Restless? Every day? Even in meetings? Perhaps not. These devices would, apparently, be voice-activated.
I have no reason to believe that this woman's TV contact lenses are stuck to her eyeballs.
(Credit: CC Orin Optiglot)Mr. Pearson also believes that we'll have digital tattoos. No, not ones that say "Momma, I love you." Rather, ones that pick up the feeling of whatever is happening onscreen and transferring it to your nervous system.
Which might be amusing, if one were watching, say, the Golden State Warriors pummeling the hapless, witless Utah Jazz. But a little more concerning if one were enjoying a rerun of Friday the 13th. Or another rivetingly truthful interview with Alex Rodriguez. Or any love scene featuring Keanu Reeves.
Apparently, most of the technology to make this happen already exists. Which leads me to believe that someone may have secretly implanted these lenses into my eyeballs. And the TV is on the blink.
I think I'll give Best Buy's Geek Squad a call and ask them to check my eyeballs out.
- prev
- 1
- next
