EXISTECHNOLOGICAL CRISIS

Is Siri Making Us Bossy?

Siri, make me coffee

Siri can’t find my coffee mug anymore than my husband can stop leaving piles of black socks under the couch. Life has constraints.

My dog cannot bring the paper in, unlock the front deadbolt on the door or repark the car, but I still ask her. I’m optimistic.

My conversations with my dog are getting more complex. Instead of, “Wanna go out, Ewok?”, I say, “Ewok, I’m going downstairs to get a cup of coffee. You can come with me or stay here. It’s up to you.” She gets it.

My dog, Ewok, has become more verbal since the pandemic because of Duolingo. When someone rings the doorbell, she forms words. She doesn’t speak clearly but that’s because she drinks all day. What else is there for her do to? She’s a dog and barking is so 2018.

I have been recorded by my Google Home video camera looking at Ewok and asking, “Siri, where’s my phone?”

I have also been known to look at my phone and say, “Siri, where is my raincoat?”

I asked Google Home when dinner was and she pretended not to hear me. I caught Google Home asking Siri to look up psychiatrists. I’m fine.

I looked at my son in the eye today and said, “Ewok! Time for school.” I don’t know what’s weirder, that I yell names before I talk or that I can’t tell the difference between dogs, technology, and children.

I regularly pick up my coffee cup and ask, “Siri! What’s the weather today?” It looks back at me like, “What the fuck are you talking about? Go outside. Are your legs broken?”

Life for humans is running out. I’m a perfect example of that. Remember the part of The Bible where it was written, “And woman started asking her coffee cup to take out the dog and then there was darkness?”

I’m not one of those people who has the Daily Bible Verses App on my phone, so I can’t even tell you whether that verse is in the Old or New Testament.

I was out with my mom today and she looked at the weather app and said, “It’s raining.”

I looked up at the sun and said “No, it’s not.”

“We should go home,” she said. “We don’t want to get wet.”

“It’s not raining,” I protested.

“It says 40%,” she said, looking at her phone like an astronaut gauging atmospheric pressure.

“I’ll get the umbrella,” I said turning around.

I’m not a psychic but I think humans have about a week left until extinction. Hold on. I’m going to go ask my shoe.

Wouldn’t you rather be laughing?