I’m A Landfill Eagerly Awaiting The Next Apple Keynote Event
In the past few years, I have seen an incredible surge in technology that solves problems nobody has with devices nobody asked for. Apple has done an amazing job at persuading consumers to buy every new thing they produce. I, for one, can’t wait to be the eventual recipient of this season’s future trash. Of course, I have no immediate knowledge of what the next announcement will bring, but to my credit, I’m a patient pile of garbage. I only need to wait a few human years to find out (which, in landfill years is practically infinitesimal.) No pre-order madness. No payment plans. Just a steady stream of everlasting refuse. Like clockwork, this quarterly event will prompt a purge of everyone’s antiquated devices from five years ago as they make room for the next big thing.
You must be wondering: “What could a landfill possibly want with electronics?” Well, I like to think of myself as a collector of sorts! For some, it’s boxes of sneakers that are so expensive you can’t expose them to sunlight. For me, it’s fruit-branded trophies of obsolescence composed of Earth’s rarest metals. At this point, I own more Apple devices than any person in the world. Every single one of them was free, and you’d be shocked at how many of them still work! I don’t really understand each device’s intended purpose, but it can’t be historically important if these things hardly existed a few decades ago.
To be clear, I’m not particularly excited about hazardous materials leaching into the groundwater and slowly poisoning the entire ecosystem, but I’m merely an inanimate open pit designed to contain a limited range of household waste. How am I supposed to hold humans accountable for e-recycling? Most people want to believe they’ll dispose of things in the proper manner, but when a stressed-out parent of four wants to clean out the drawer full of old iPods, we all know the quickest solution. In any case, I do like to have a little bit of fun with an occasional game of ‘Guess the Gadgets’ as each keynote approaches. Binaural implants that play sitcom theme songs as your own personal soundtrack? Swim goggles that simulate drowning in a sea of your own dull job tasks? Who knows! All I can say is that I’m willing to bet this lost hard drive full of cryptocurrency that it’ll be a banner year.
A Review: The Dunkin' Donuts Caramel Chocolate Cold Brew
Each day in America, millions of people prepare their embattled psyches for a futile resistance against a consumerist hellscape; one that is built upon sly marketing tactics, data brokers, and a mind-bending stream of information. Even before stepping out the front door, we are subjected to a barrage of advertisements that, at best, worm their way into our subconscious and deposit a harmless jingle or catchphrase. In the past decade, the smart devices we have invited willfully into our homes double as undercover informants for the conglomerates that peddle them. These gadgets relay our interests, habits, and deepest desires to those that surreptitiously play the role of puppet master for an entire nation of target markets. I have prided myself over the years for eluding The Algorithm effectively, disabling features that would otherwise reveal fragments of my personality to the powers that be. It’s always rewarding to see them throw a wild pitch with advertisements for a far-away Golden Corral or medieval war-themed smartphone games, but even the strongest defenses have a weakness. On one cold February night, my weakness came in the form of my approximate geographic location – the epicenter of Dunkin’ Donuts’ Northeast kingdom.
While waiting patiently through the commercials on my bottom-tier Hulu subscription, a stark white ad spot illuminated the room. At the center of the infinite brightness stood a towering, perspiring beverage voiced over by the gravelly yet sultry tones of Massachusetts native, Jason Mantzoukas. It was an advertisement on the verge of perfection: succinct, sexual, and surgical. Before I knew what had happened, a familiar orange and pink Dunkin’ Donuts slogan flashed across the screen then faded to black. Something immediately stirred deep within me. It was as if they pulled on a string that was tethered to one of my earliest memories: riding on the back of my mother’s bike, holding a box of Munchkins branded with the same timeless color scheme. For a New England local, this kind of feeling is something that only the omnipotence of Dunkin’ Donuts has the capacity to incite; a cradle-to-grave experience that renders time irrelevant and reminds you of both your childhood and of the future simultaneously. Until the nation collapses, there will never be a version of life in New England that isn’t punctuated by its franchise storefronts. Perhaps America Runs on Dunkin’ because it has given up on running from it.
Days passed, and I couldn’t shake the thought of this visual earworm (I’d call it an “eyeworm” but that makes even less sense.) Eventually, I gave in and decided it was better to know what I was missing than be taunted by the larger-than-life cutout of the new signature drink in front of my local Dunk’s. On a dreary Wednesday morning, I pulled into the drive thru and immediately sensed something different – an air of excitement at the other end of the intercom as I placed the order. When I pulled up to the window, I wasn’t greeted by my typical attendant. The woman who oversaw the drink’s creation noticed it wasn’t made properly by her trainee, and without me uttering a word, she had a new one created to spec. I can only assume she was a high-ranking corporate ambassador tasked with tracking my location for days, ensuring my inevitable transaction went smoothly. As she handed me the beverage, she left me with two simple words: “Enjoy life.” Never has that task been so effortless.
The Dunkin' Donuts Caramel Chocolate Cold Brew is the latest installment in a long line of concoctions they keep churning out until they run out of ideas and reboot the Coffee Coolata. I am ashamed of how good this drink is. I expected it to taste like a chocolate-flavored Guinness with sugar in it, but that doesn’t quite scratch the surface. Topped with a coating of cookie crumbles undoubtedly harvested from the beaches of a tropical edition of Candyland, the drink is served not with a straw but a lid with a sipping hole in the top. The vessel is an invitation to become intimate with the beverage the moment you hold it, prompting you to touch your lips gently upon the sweet crust held aloft by a layer of foam below. It’s a moment that feels private - one that you may find necessitates avoiding eye contact with your fellow commuters at stoplights. If you can eschew the anticipation, it may be best to wait until the first quiet moments of the workday, alone at your desk. Just beneath the crust is the cold chocolate foam which can only be described as a chocolate foam that is also cold. The first sip, fluffy and sweet, as the subsequent ones dive deeper into the murky depths below. These silky trails running down into the abyss offer a gradual introduction to the strong brew waiting at the bottom. The combination of caffeine and sugar, packing much more of a punch than my daily driver, left me with a buzz for the rest of the day on razor’s edge. Somewhere between the event horizon of eternal bliss and forgetting to eat lunch while hiding the slight tremor in my extremities. It hits like a safe-for-work version of the original Four Loko recipe. After a few hours, that effortless bliss revealed its true nature: a temporary shock to the nervous system akin to micro-dosing spiritual enlightenment. Even the small one I ordered proved to be too much of a daunting task to complete. Still, the drink achieves exactly what they want: to remind you that however far artisanal coffee culture has come in the past 20 years, they have something that nobody else can recreate. It’s something that, I imagine, could only be synthesized in one of Boston’s infinite laboratory spaces, funded by Ben Affleck’s abundant Hollywood fortune. I can’t imagine the research funding that must have gone into it, but I assume the plans for it date as far back as the debut of The Town.
Categorizing Dunkin’ Donuts as a coffee shop at this point would be like calling Walmart a convenience store. It may still present itself as The Little Donut Shop That Could, but that illusion was shattered for me years ago when I came across one in the heart of New Delhi. Under the hood, it’s a finely tuned machine that preys upon the caffeine-starved bundle of nerves in all of us that also feels we deserve cake for breakfast. Releasing a signature iced drink in the frigid doldrums of February? Business bravado of that caliber is only found in one of two scenarios; reckless impulses on the downslope toward bankruptcy or calculated efforts backed by years of solid market research. Dunk’s has proven time and time again that they know their demographic more than the clientele know themselves. It was difficult to find proper nutritional facts on the drink, but honestly, I didn’t try too hard to find them. Companies may go to great lengths to have their darkest secrets scrubbed from the internet, but my own shame prevented me from trying too hard to find a count of added sugars. You might think, “What the hell happened to our society that necessitates a drink like this?” Sometimes, it’s just easier to surrender to the notion that however decadent the vices of our culture are, they can still be enjoyed.
Moderation is something I strive for in my daily life, but there is no room for such a noble pursuit in the face of Dunkin’ Donuts’ seasonal offerings. If you find yourself somewhere on that pesky moral spectrum between abstaining and indulging, then in the case of the Caramel Chocolate Cold Brew, I recommend taking the advice of my mysterious barista: Enjoy Life. There is nothing subtle about it, so why temper your capacity for joy, however fleeting it may be in our collective capitalist nightmare. Indeed, like every other Dunkin’ iced beverage, by the time it melts, you’re left with a pale, diluted shadow of what once was. You just have to be happy with the time you spent together. And honestly, if I finished the entire thing, I might have just died by some sort of saccharine-serotonin syndrome. This one at least deserves the dignity of being poured down the drain instead of forgotten half-empty under a seat on the Orange Line. As you watch your precious novelty beverage leave behind a ring of guilt in the sink, rest assured they’re already devising the next one.
Precautions for Town’s Second Pumpkin Chucking Contest
Happy Fall, everyone! Thanksgiving weekend is fast-approaching, and we are pleased to announce, after a very close council vote, that we will be hosting another Pumpkin Chucking event! Having said that, we all learned a lot from last year. The high school has graciously agreed to let us use the football field again, but please note the following, so we can ensure a fun and safe environment for everyone:
The use of gunpowder and/or explosives is strictly forbidden. We thought this was clear for our first contest, but we will perform thorough inspections of all participating mechanisms this time. Many of last year’s devices caused turf damage that resulted in at least two ankle sprains in the latter part of the Knights’ season.
The fire department will be on the premises, but their team will not be allowed to use the ladder truck for their launching mechanism. This apparently violated several state regulations, so we have to use this year’s registration fees to cover the fines (and pay for a more permanent fix for the gymnasium windows.)
We intended to have a trebuchet-/catapult-only competition, but after receiving a flurry of anonymous faxes to the town hall office, we have decided to include a separate category for pneumatic devices. Operators of these devices will be required to stand behind a blast shield, and the spectator safety fence will be moved back 30 feet.
Instead of a cash prize, all ticket proceeds will go towards the Hal Lewis Memorial Fund. Hal was a huge fan of last year’s event, which he spent running up and down the sidelines screaming, “Chunk those f****** punks!” Hal passed away while skydiving last month at the age of 103.
The high school is an Alcohol & Drug Free Zone, even on weekends.
No modified pumpkins. This means no pumpkins filled with lead shot, no “lubed” pumpkins, no metal objects painted to look like pumpkins, etc.
We will be chunkin punks in the opposite direction this year. Participants should set up at the northern end of the field and aim away from the parking lot; several attendees were left stranded without drivable vehicles last year.
Pastor Davis from the Congregational Church will man the golf cart as the official referee. He expects that any disputes that arise will be handled in a “virtuous” manner. Do not aim for the cart, or you will be disqualified from the competition and barred from Sunday service.
Despite its overwhelming popularity, we absolutely cannot condone another Wild Western Shootout finale.
This is a family event, so many of you need to revisit your team names and logos. Let’s stay away from words that rhyme with ‘chuck’ and acknowledge that any nudity is really just thematically forced.
We appreciate your cooperation and look forward to seeing you all again soon! Remember to sign and initial all 12 pages of the liability waiver, and please leave any surviving pets at home.
Things I Am No Longer On Good Terms With Because They Woke The Baby
The uppermost bedroom door hinge
Floorboards 3, 12, and 17
Two of the neighbor’s three dogs (Not you, Hank)
A misaligned tendon in my right elbow
The FedEx truck with the broken muffler
Foot-operated metal waste bins
The U.S. Air Force and The Boeing Company
‘Potential Spam’
The LED on the heating pad switch
Sunrise
Fictional Correspondence: An Email Regarding Pink Floyd
From: Universal Music Group
Subject: Animals 44th Anniversary
Forty-four years ago, Pink Floyd unleashed Animals, a five-track epic lauded as one of modern music’s boldest challenges to the Establishment. In this ode to George Orwell’s Animal Farm, Roger Waters’ incisive anti-authoritarian lyrics take on systemic injustice in the 20th century while the band’s perilous soundscapes hold up a mirror to the world. Together, they paint a harrowing portrait of the exploitative power structures of capitalism, both as a scathing critique and as a warning about the dystopian future it promises. The pigs, dogs, and sheep of society all make their own appearance, their roles laid out through a metaphorical framework in five parts.
In the decades since its release, the album’s predictions ring truer with each passing year. Today, the unrelenting march towards globalization multiplies the atrocities of a viciously exploitative political-economic system, the glorification of celebrity and material excess sets unattainable standards of exclusivity, and Big Tech traps the masses under their thumbs. Across the globe, pocketable computers are hypnotizing their users via carefully engineered stimuli while simultaneously serving as vehicles for advertisements of more unnecessary products. Thus, the vicious cycle of mindless, wasteful consumption carries on.
That’s why on this notable 44th anniversary, we’re releasing an extremely limited edition 180 gram 4 X LP ‘Animals: 44’ box set packed full of never-before-seen liner notes that didn’t make the cut the first time or in the four or five reissues since.
What’s different in this reissue?
Well, of course, it’s remastered! Subsequent remasterings of the original 1977 recording really “polished up” some of the rough spots which we think detracted from the rebellious message of the work. Using the latest in audio engineering technology, we actually accentuated these idiosyncrasies as if it were never mastered in the first place. But mainly, we just made the whole thing WAY LOUDER.
Why 4 LP’s?
Not only did we want the best pressing quality possible when transferring from our high-bitrate MP3 masters, but we needed extra room for some Easter eggs! Here are just a few:
An extended cut of ‘Dogs’ featuring the band arguing over whose whistling sounded more ironic
An alternate take of ‘Sheep’ where the left channel is completely overtaken by a crash symbol after a mic stand drooped a little
The entire album played in reverse on discs 3 and 4. People seemed to like doing that with Dark Side of the Moon, so we figured why not?
Radical. What else?
We had our interns go out and take some iPhone photos of Battersea Power Station, the subject of the album's iconic cover art, and plastered the gatefold sleeve with them. Unfortunately, we tried to float a huge pig above it again, but it flew away when Harold’s grip slipped. (Nice one, Harold!) Despite that, we partnered up with Apple while they built their new campus inside the facility to gather up some of the construction debris and seal it in the front panel* of each edition!
The pre-order for this remarkable piece of nostalgia starts next month. And don’t forget: if you’re an American Express Gold Member, you get a 3-day head start! This exclusive $89.99 offer is only happening once, so don’t be a sheep!
Sincerely,
The dogs at Universal Music Group
*Do not attempt to open the front panel as the debris may be hazardous.
Stages of Grief When You've Lost Your Browser Tabs
Grief is a complex emotional process that takes many forms in life, but the loss of your browser tabs is a uniquely modern experience. In the digital workspace, one may amass an array of carefully curated knowledge over time, expecting to peruse it at a later date. We assume these tabs are safe to keep open indefinitely, but too often, they accumulate and succumb to unexpected shutdowns, crashes, or other circumstances. Here are the five stages of grief you can expect to experience in the minutes and even hours that follow:
1. Denial - Your mind cannot immediately comprehend the loss of hours of research. This rejection of reality leads to a frantic but futile search for your tabs. You may reassure yourself that they must be hiding behind the system update window or muster up the false hope that Chrome has remembered your last session. At this stage, it is also likely that you will haphazardly close every other program with little regard for saving your work.
2. Anger - There will be a point where your search reaches its logical end, and you will begin to exhibit passive-aggressive behaviors. Your frustration is compounded by the fact that you cannot remember what, exactly, you are angry about losing. You may turn to the closest person in the room and ask leading questions like, “Were you using my computer?” and “Then why is there just this single Pinterest page open?” An innocent pet known for walking across the keyboard may even be subject to an undeserved side-eye.
3. Bargaining - Maybe you had a friend’s SoundCloud open that you were supposed to check out. Maybe if they were on Spotify, you would have been more likely to listen to it. Sound familiar? This is just one example signifying a downward spiral of hypotheticals; your mind’s attempt to regain control over the situation: “If I had just used Bookmarks for their intended purpose...” - “If only I could admit that opening a page for Instagram didn’t really count as ‘deleting the app’...” This is your mind turning on itself - indulging in speculations and marking them as turning points that may have catalyzed your insurmountable build up of information.
4. Depression - You come to know your amalgamation of helpful information as a digital surrogate for a mentor, considerate friend, or even a guardian. In this stage, you truly mourn the loss of their presence and can feel directionless or empty. You may find yourself questioning, “What’s the point of it all without that blogger’s minimalist workout routine that I definitely probably would have started today if I still had it up?” Gone, too, with that omniscient caretaker are countless recipes, critically important home repair forum threads, and that one-pager that would have finally made you understand your personal finances.
5. Acceptance - You willingly accept that, perhaps, in an alternate dimension, a version of you exists that has consumed a wildly different set of information. You come to terms with the fact that you will now become a completely different person than your last browsing session would have influenced. With a blank slate, this new version of yourself can seek out new possibilities with the confidence to leave the alternate dimension behind. Your destructive self-talk will finally fade, and you will eventually find yourself stating things like, “I am enough!”, “I will find the perfect copycat Crunchwrap Supreme recipe!”, and “I can do my own unsupervised electrical work!”
