I am willing to entertain the idea that the devil is real and he is working in the manufacturing business as a design concepts innovation engineer.
Yes, I just made up that job title, but with the devil on the loose, literally making mischief, I think we have bigger things to worry about than my imagination.
These devilish products include mirrors that make objects appear closer than they are. Yes, it’s true.
Why mess with my depth perception? Why not make it a plain ol’ mirror, so I know when to stop backing up. Unless — and this is a fine example of what the devil does to, well, bedevil us — the manufacturer’s intent is to make me repeatedly put my vehicle in park and walk back to see how far I have to go before I hit something important.
Or am I supposed to just quit driving wherever the mirror tells me to and haul that 50-pound sack of feed an extra 20 feet for the amusement of the dark one?
How about this line of devil-may-hair-care: “permanent” hair treatments like dyes and curls and extensions. Spoiler alert: Your hair keeps growing — it’s growing the moment the stuff is done with its devilish deeds to your hair. If it were truly permanent most women would be an unnaturally curly-haired blonde with artificially sun-kissed highlights for the rest of their natural-born, sold-your-hair-to-the-devil days.
Don't laugh and feel superior, guys. The devil also made toupees, hair plugs and Grecian Formula. Enough said.
How about low-rise pants that seem to only be designed and manufactured too tight in the thigh. Who knew the plumber’s-crack look would ever become popular for the ladies? The devil, of course. Thanks for that, though I don’t think that’s what getting to know my fellow humans better is supposed to be about.
Thanks for flip flops, too, devil, and your amazing cultural shift that has made them OK to wear anywhere besides the beach and public showers. Love that smack-smack-smack-smack rhythm — it’s annoying for me and so classy for them.
Pens with non-waterproof ink: What’s the point? Except to doom people to disappointment and a broken heart. How many life-altering events were nulled, nixed and washed away in the wake of a spilled glass of water or a laundered note? How many clothes ruined — because the devil somehow made the ink run when water is applied, but it still sets a stain into your favorite shirt no matter how much laundering.
Not the least of his evil products is the amazingly effective, bowl-shaped, scooping snack chip. Like I need the means by which I can pile even more fattening dip onto an already fattening chip.
Just because my thighs thrive with this eating implement does not mean my spirit is swelling with happiness in equal measure.
How about cheap tools? I don't think I need to say more, cuss them amongst yourselves.
May all these products go the way of the devil's other outdated goods, like mercury enemas, the Edsel, 8-track tapes and daisy wheel typewriters.
(But, hey, let’s not go crazy and get rid of the rich, moist, dark chocolate devil's food cake. It beats the fluffy, white-cloud stuffing out of that angel food cake. The devil, he does some things right at firstname.lastname@example.org.)