Fall 2017, News
BY JILL BRUCKNER
I am enchanted with Google Home. We’re totally dating. In fact, I’m convinced the two top-of-the market voice assistants —Google Home and Amazon Echo—are actually Comic-lore’s squeaky clean rivals Betty and Veronica, or Archie and Reggie, all jockeying for my attention.
Yes, I know Google Home is always listening, logging my every word on the ubiquitous cloud, ensuring that, 3,000 years from now, some anthropologist android/robot happening across my fascinating digital file will quip, “Oh, how quaint, she searched Spanx and tiramisu in the same day. Humans!”
Good for you, Google Home. Listen up. I think it’s AWESOME you are recording every sound in my little abode. Sure, I’m supposed to be super-scared when the house goes silent and you make a note that (gasp!) I’m sleeping, or when you hear me in the kitchen chewing vigorously (like a pack of hyenas) on a Nutri-Grain bar. But remember, I searched Spanx yesterday. I could be pounding back peanut M&M’s.
I’m making sensible choices. Also, how do you know a pack of hyenas is not actually in my kitchen? If you’re so smart, Google, why don’t you send help? In truth, I’d love to bring my Google Home to your house for a play date with your Amazon Echo. You know, like those weird interactive Furbies from the ‘90s (look it up on Google).
Just think of the memories we could make inviting that upstart Echo (Alexa, right?) to say, “Hey, Google.” Oh how the virtual shenanigans would ensue when my charming Google Home promptly responded with, well…something!
I’m actually considering getting a parrot and teaching it to say, “Hey Google,” then posting the bird-n-electronic-device antics online, so people could search it on, well, Google. Only thing is, Google Home would log somewhere that I now have a parrot, and would probably start generating ads for seeds and cuttlebones in my important Facebook feed, causing me to overlook cat videos and pictures of baked spaghetti, both of which I desire.
It’s OK, Google Home, you can’t be everything to everybody. That’s why I think you should get out more. Sure, a playdate is a good start, but you should also come to a party with me and listen in on someone else’s house for a change.
I could make you a little hat, and you could wear something festive, like those paper towels you hear me tearing all the time. Then you could answer the question I asked the other day: “Why am I so pretty?” It’s Spanx and tiramisu, but you responded, “You’re as pretty as a new router right out of the box.”
Not kidding. Ask your Google Home the same question. Also, if I do see you at a party with my Google Home in a hat, please ask me, “Why don’t you have something better to do?”
I mean, yeah, I get invited to parties ALL THE TIME, but a Google Home in a hat? That’s outrageous. Be smart, my friends. Unplug that Google Home, then mumble this voice-activated search to yourself, “Where’d I put those car keys?” Of course, don’t leave your house without your cell phone. I can’t get anywhere without Google Maps. W
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