• Babygadget: “The Babykeeper” (via Boing Boing)

Well… at least now I know that if my theoretical child does take after me, and THIS doesn’t work… I have options.

Seriously though, the makers of The Babykeeper are trying to be all innocent-like — “Oooooooh… it’s just for keeping babies safe and secure while you have a poo… we’re not evil… here, have some candy, little girl… heh heh heh…”

But really, we know what this means. We ALL know.

The Babykeeper is for ALWAYS.

Strap the kid up, slap it on the kitchen door, and BAM! you’re good to go. Make supper, watch TV, drink copiously — WHATEVER.

YOU. ARE. FREE.

Heck, you don’t even need to take the kid down for breastfeeding. Just stand up next to the door, whip open your shirt, and Bob’s your uncle.

Now you just need to get a door on wheels…

…

I’m so going to hell.

How do you know that the Karma Gods are having a hearty chuckle at your expense?

Follow these five simple steps:

First: Have a pee.

Second: Wash your hands. (With soap, thank you very much, Nosy Nellie.)

Third: Reach over to the paper towel dispenser and give a genteel tug on the dangling paper towel.

Fourth: Experience the solid thump of the entire paper towel dispenser ripping off the wall and landing in your hands.

Fifth: Look down and appreciate the fine mist of tile dust coating your shoes.

That distant murmur? That’s them.

We ALL remember my adventures in trying to get winter tires installed on the Sweenmobile, right? (Including the pictorial evidence of said event?)

(No. Don’t re-read it. I’ve caused you enough pain.)

Well, pursuant to the tires not getting purchased and installed on that fine occasion, I called Canadian Tire a week ago to make a new appointment to purchase and install winter tires. A lovely phone call ensued where I would say, “I would like to make an appointment,” followed by the sales rep yelling at me, “Well? Do you wanna make an appointment?” Good times. Finally, after many pleasing shenanigans, I arranged a time to bring the car in — last night, 5:30 pm — indicated the tires that were to be purchased and installed — Goodyear Nordic, P195-55R15 — and reconfirmed the details — TWICE — to make sure everything was set up precisely.

Mwua-ha.

Last night. 5:30 pm. Exactly. I step up to the service counter, keys in hand. I smile at the service rep and say, “I have an appointment to have my tires installed.”

The service rep looks at his monitor. “Jason Sweeney?”

“That’s me!” I smile. Everything’s coming up roses!

“So… do you have the tires you want installed or are you planning on purchasing some tonight?”

I sense the great and terrible Foot of Karma suddenly hovering inches above the roses.

“Ummm… the appointment was to purchase the tires and then have them installed.”

“Right. Okay… what type of tires were they?”

The blessed and gnarled Toes on the Foot of Karma waggled ominously…

“Funny. I figured that information would be on the order… but okay.” I pull the details out of my wallet. “Goodyear Nordics. Size… P195-55R15.”

“Okay… lessee…” The service rep types away on his keyboard. A pause. “Oh shit.” He quickly glances at me and then back at his screen. Types some more. “We don’t seem to have… umm… lemmee check upstairs.” He hustles off briskly, narrowly avoiding flying shards of skull that shoot out from my exploding head.

TWENTY MINUTES PASS AS I STAND THERE AT THE SERVICE COUNTER PICKING PIECES OF MY BRAIN UP OFF THE FLOOR.

Finally… he returns.

“Ummm… I’ve got bad news for you. We don’t have four of those Nordic tires in stock.”

Clenching: “So. You are going to be able to get them at another store? RIGHT?”

“Umm… yeah…” A pause. “Just… not tonight. Can you come in on Wednesday?”

The puissant and well-pedicured Foot of Karma walks away, sticky with the residue of pulped roses.

Driving to work. Listening to CBC Radio.

INTERVIEWER: So tell us about the Microsoft Zune? Is it an iPod killer?

INTERVIEWEE: In a word… no. That’s not to say-

[My Lovely Wife changes the station away from CBC.]

ME: Oh.

MY LOVELY WIFE: I’m sorry. Were you listening to that?

[My Lovely Wife changes the station back to CBC.]

INTERVIEWEE: -and if you are next to someone else with a Zune-

MY LOVELY WIFE: Look at that a mosquito do you see that right there on the windshield [points at spot on windshield directly between my eyes and the road] you’d think at this time of year all the mosquitoes would be dead but nope there one is it’s funny there weren’t that many mosquitoes at all this year but look there’s one still around here let me get rid of it for you [reaches over and flicks on windshield wipers full blast] bye-bye little mosquito [turns off wipers] well that mosquito’s dead now it’s sort of sad though to have survived this long only to die here on our windshield oh well he had a long life longer than most mosquitoes so I guess that’s a good thing and anyways he might not have died he might have just gotten nudged off the windshield so-

[I sigh inaudibly and change the station away from CBC.]

MY LOVELY WIFE: Oh, weren’t you listening to that?

I’m really sorry for you. I know you’re working hard. God knows it can’t be an easy job, considering the fact the everyone grows up conditioned to the constant barrage of advertising coming at us from all directions, so I know you have to move heaven and earth just to get through to us, just to get us to focus our eyeballs for thirty seconds and actually pay attention to what you are trying to sell. So yes, I do feel for you.

It’s just…

That ad I just saw? Yes, that one. That’s the one I’m talking about.

It’s just…

Excuse me. Please allow me to be blunt.

The phrase “genital herpes”?

I’m sorry. You lost me RIGHT THERE.

Each word on their own? Not so bad. “Genital”? Who doesn’t love to talk about something genital? Hell! No one! EVERYONE wants to talk about something genital. And “herpes”… admittedly, a harder sell. But it’s a pretty short word, a mere two syllables… you can elide right over it. [cough]“Herpes”[cough]. It’s sort of… cute.

But “GENITAL HERPES”?

Nope. Sorry. Bam. Dead in the water.

I DO NOT CARE THAT YOU ARE SELLING GENITAL HERPES MEDICATION. IT’S STILL NOT GONNA WORK.

It’s the principle of the thing here.

I think you gotta get together, all you advertiser folks, just figure out amongst yourselves what new phrase you are going to use in place of “genital herpes” — some phrase that isn’t used for something else — and then just let the rest of us know. Something like “Danish Camel”… or “Retrograde Maple”… or… I don’t know… “Des Moines, Iowa”. Anything.

And then you retire “genital herpes”. As an advertising phrase. Forever.

BECAUSE YOU DON’T TRY AND SELL THINGS USING GENITAL HERPES AS YOUR HOOK.

NOT EVEN GENITAL HERPES.

IT JUST WON’T WORK.