Here’s the deal. Those long-time readers of my blog know that Gloria and I are always having tons of fun with the antics of our rascally offspring. Why just the other day Timmy came up to me and said, “Pa, did you know that whenever legendary blues guitarist B.B. King would get an above average grade at school his parents would take him to his favorite store and buy him ammunition so that he could do target practice at the family’s inn?” To which I replied, “What the hell are you talking about, Timmy?” At which point he cocked his head with that wry McBee smile and offered, “You know, when B.B. got a B he’d go to BB&B for BB’s for the B&B.”
And I don’t need to tell you that we enjoyed a hearty laugh at that one.
Sorry, my people wanted me to test market my likability were I to have a wife and kids. There’s no Gloria. There’s no Timmy. Frighteningly, however, there is definitely a BB&B.
First up is the thirty dollar spill stopper. This is a shallow, ceramic bowl with an open bottom that you set atop your pots whilst boiling water lest they overflow.
This is a fantastic product for those consumers who have yet to master the very complex strategy of not filling your pots to the brim with water. Yes, this is a must have for chefs everywhere who refuse to entertain the notion of, “Using a slightly larger pot.”
And how about this awesome Magic Tap Automatic Drink Dispenser?
Is it just me, or are we getting lazier every minute? Pouring yourself a glass of juice simply shouldn’t involve two AA batteries. And this is supposed to make kids less spill prone? Sure, I’ve always found that having a child balance their cereal bowl above their head is way safer than having them set it down on the table before adding the milk. And whatever happened to letting our kids learn how to do things? I know I’d feel pretty bad for little Timmy if he got to college and was embarrassed by his dorm mates when they discovered that he’d never learned to pour for himself.
Lastly, let’s take a look at the impressive-sounding Thundershirt.
I was expecting an outfit that would help make your pooch look like they’d just returned from battle in the apocalyptic doggie thunderdome (“Two mutts enter, one mutt leaves”). Instead, we get this dorky vest that may or may not help with puppy anxieties, but will certainly get your canine ridiculed by his buddies at the dog park. I’m not sure if this calms a hound so much as it embarrasses them, as this once mighty animal has been reduced to wearing a skimpy, Velcro jumpsuit.
Call me old fashioned, but I sort of miss the days when every single problem didn’t have fourteen solutions. Where everything wasn’t automated and spoon-fed to us. Where we had to rely on a little elbow grease and ingenuity to get through the day. Where an honest day’s work and individual effort were prized above easy fixes.