Saturday, April 28, 2007

Disparaging Reviews of Everyday Objects

The Comic Mummy writes:
It freaks me out - even comics who are revered in the industry and in the public (and in my own mind) as brilliant, are subject to a panning by any old monkey who has access to a computer.

I guess that's just another difference between a public job and a 'civilian' one, for want of a better word. If you're a fireman, a lawyer or a dishwasher at the local pub, no matter how pitifully you perform your job, even if you're the worst insert-occupation-here who has ever lived in the entire history of the universe, chances are that nobody's going to bother investing time and energy into humiliating and bagging the hell out of you for it.

A review of my pen
I don't know what I expected when I first started using this pen, but whatever it was, it consistently failed to live up to expectations anyway. Sometimes it didn't write, sometimes it did write, and sometimes it wrote, but the ink had a watery tone. Then, one day, I took it on the train and it completely died, but not before leaking all over my pocket. Not only a poor performance, but rude also!

Quite frankly, I am repulsed by this pen.

A review of my flatmate's old couch
The 'old couch' genre has become a rather cliched one of late, but it is not without pleasures of its own. Let's face it, you don't expect much out of an old couch expect to be able to sink back into it like an old couch. (The metaphor says it all, really).
So why am I disappointed by this latest rendition of couch-ness?
One reason might be that it re-uses quite a few of the bad cliches from the tried-and-true couch genre, but none of the good ones. It swallows keys. It is dusty. It's pillows are 'lumpy'. The blanket draped upon it keeps falling down. It is uncomfortable to sit on (it is sloped, so that it gives you the impression when you lie on it that it is going to swallow you.) And when you do lie down upon it, not only your feet, but your legs as well dangle over the edge.
This couch even goes out of its way to exacarbate these problems. The middle pillow has teared back to reveal foam. The foam adds to the dust problems. The dark brown colour of the couch itself feels 'dusty'.
Finally, this couch has troubles unique in the annals of couch-dom. The gigantic pillow in the middle looks impressive and couch-like, but it is inconvenient to move. And the couch has an unpleasant, just-a-bit-too-warm effect when you lie upon it.

I do not like this couch.

A review of a sock of mine
Most socks have a large hole in the top for you to stick your foot in them. Some socks have a large hole in the top and a little hole in the bottom so your toe can go out to the other side. This sock has a large hole in the top, a medium-size hole in the bottom, and a large hole in the middle to intercept your foot as it travels on its way to the medium-size hole at the bottom.

It is a bad sock.

A review of the kitchen sink
Well, although I have seen several kitchen sinks perform in the past, I have to say that the performance of this particular kitchen sink befuddles me. I am not quite sure why this sink seems inadequate, other than a generally lacklustre performance of all the elements of its sink-hood. The hole in the kitchen bench is large enough - the metal, when plugged, holds adequate water, and associated item of cutlery - and the soap suds sit in the sink in a more-or-less comfortable fashion. Perhaps it is because the performance of this sink is so lacklustre overall. Its heart is not in it. You get the feeling that this sink wishes to be elsewhere, is unsatisfied with being a mere everyday object: does it have delusions of grandeur in objectdom? Does it see itself as a jerkin on the back of the poodle belonging to the King of Denmark? Or maybe it sees itself as a door knob to an important office on an impressive floor in an influential department in a sleek, shining black building in uptown Brussels?

It is as if this kitchen sink has already left us, taking everything except the kitchen sink.

Overall: disappointing.

A review of the battery sitting on my shelf
This is an ordinary battery, but the metal on it is roughed up and corrugated, making it difficult to put into a device. While any departure from the hackneyed 'Battery' school of art is welcome, this seems like mere gimmickry on the part of this battery. Perhaps it is meant to signifiy the moral decay of modern society, or the revolt of the workers in Russia? Whatever, the metaphor fails to connect. Also, it is hard to putt this object in an electrical device. It is an ersatz battery.

This battery is immoral, decadent, and it honestly disgusts me.

A review of a fence
The most interesting thing about this fence is that it has a hole in it. It is a very deflating fence.

A review of a bathroom mirror
As Liberace is to Rachmaninoff, so is this mirror to other bathroom mirrors. If on the off chance you were to see yourself in this bathroom mirror, you should refer yourself to a plastic surgeon or a priest, depending on your religion.


Karen said...

The world is indeed a very inadequate place when you peer at it closely, isn't it?

My sister has a couch like that- and a futon. It's couch or futon when I'm there, which is an uneviable choice. I tried sleeping in the hallway a couple of months ago but that didn't work either. Morose sigh! And it's so hard to find good pens, isn't it? I cajouled my friend into stealing some for me from his place of work, but I'm down to my last two now.

Karen said...

Unenviable, that is.

TimT said...

Tell me about it. I've tried pen after pen after pen, they all get caught up on the train trip. I like to write on the train sometimes, for some reason you can be introspective on the train more easily than at home (although even that's impossible at peak hour). I discovered some super-ink pens that for some reason seemed to work well on trains, but they ran out too quickly.

And couches are evil, but I'm probably not the best person to judge them. This couch seems to have a radioactive core, judging from the amount of heat it generates sometimes...

Karen said...

A good pen is indeed hard to find. I was in despair before I got this new stash of tax payer-funded felt tip pens, because every pen I could lay my hands on kept ripping through the page. Of course another solution would be to stop pressing so hard, but my suppressed left-handedness has to come out in some form or other. I write on the train too, but I can't if anyone is close enough to read what I'm writing.

I feel so desolate when I know I'm going to have to sleep on a couch!

(Word verification is so hard at this time of night!).

Caz said...

Hmm, I reckon lawyers and dishwashers get a fair amount of bagging, just not in formal or published reviews. That wouldn't take the pain out of it though, as the sting is more personal in the private sphere.

Caz said...

I would critique my couch for you, but I score it a 5/5, even for afternoon naps - so I'll spare you the envy.

My socks have no holes.

My pens work, all the time, except when they run out.

My mirrors are fine and dandy.

My kitchen sink is a tad pedestrian though.

TimT said...

When you say 'pedestrian', it makes me think your kitchen sink goes for furtive walks at night when you're not looking. Which would, paradoxically, be most unpedestrian for a kitchen sink.

Email: timhtrain - at -

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