Color Me Amazed. No, Bored. No, Intrigued. Oh, Never Mind.

14 Sep

by Roger White

I’ve been chiding us humans pretty regularly lately for our failure to live up to the technological potential we held out for ourselves in our hopeful and not-so-distant past. Ah, we were dreamers, weren’t we?

Specifically, I was pretty ticked for a good long while there about not having (a) a Jetsons’ spacecar, (b) X-ray goggles that actually work, and (3) a cloaking device that renders me invisible. In retrospect, I admit my disappointment was not one bit altruistic. I mean, the only reasons I wanted (b) and (3) were to get a glimpse of women in various stages of undress. (Don’t start writing nasty letters; I was 13 when I first came up with these reasons, OK?) And the Jetsons’ car was merely to beat the hellish morning traffic. The thinking there is pretty nonsensical, too, if you figure that if everybody had a Jetsons’ spacecar, we’d still have hellish morning traffic—it would simply be 197 feet in the air instead of on the ground. Who needs a fender-bender 197 feet in the air? And if you get caught speeding, what do you do, pull over to the side of the sky? So here we are back to square one.

However, I have determined, my fellow life travelers, that I should ease up on us. We actually have come a long way. How have we come a long way, you ask? I’ll tell you. One terrific example is beer technology. We are not drinking our grandfather’s beer anymore, fellahs. No, thanks to the forward-thinking ingenuity of minds such as those at Miller Lite, we now have our brew poured via the wonders of Vortex® technology. Huzzah! This paradigm-shifting development basically involves the cutting of tiny, little grooves inside the neck of Miller Lite bottles, which makes the beer come out in a swirling motion. Let me just interrupt myself here and say how proud I am to insert the word “paradigm” into this missive. Please continue. It’s the same old swill, mind you; it just comes out in a waterspout now. But just think, the folks at Miller Brewing probably created hundreds more jobs: picture a room full of little old ladies with skinny fingers etching tiny, little grooves into a giant mound of Miller Lite bottles, one by one. New jobs, new jobs!

And look at your Coors Light cans. If not for the genius thinking at Adolph Coors, we would be running the risk of imbibing lukewarm suds. We’ve been saved, however, by the blue, blue mountains. Only when the Rockies turn blue on your can are you sure of ice cold inebriation. God bless America.

[Tangent warning!]

Taking the cue from Adolph & Co. (and those groovy mood rings from the ’60s), other crafty entrepreneurs are, as we inhale, running with this chameleon construct. Soon, my sources tell me, we will have such exotic items as cars and trucks that can change color with a press of a button (no vans, though—a color-changing van is just too creepy), faucets that can turn your water red or blue (or various shades thereof) depending on temperature so you won’t be shocked out of your skin, house paint that will change colors with the seasons, and a wondrous array of other hue-changing goodies that will forever transform everything as we know it and end world hunger and all that stuff.

The house-paint-changing-color-with-the-seasons bit, however, might not fly here in Texas. Every single cotton-picking dwelling in this entire state would be hothouse red 363 days of the year, if this god-forsaken year is any indication.

Anyhow, I got to thinking how we our own selves could apply this brainchild to our daily living. For example, we could douse our milk in these color-changing chemicals, thereby ending the mystery. If the cowjuice is green, don’t drink it. She’s turned, laddie.

How about the dog? They’ve studied chameleons, ya know, and scientist types figured that these little guys change color not only for camouflage but for other reasons, like combat, courtship, and temperature regulation. When Clem Chameleon is black, he’s mad. When he’s bright and patterned, he’s feeling a bit randy—and when he’s gray, he needs a cold one. What if we could develop a pill you give the dog, so we could tell when he needs to do his business?

“Honey, Ralph’s blue. It’s your turn.”

“Unh, uh. I took him out last time.”

Perhaps we could even apply this to our own bods. Would make the singles scene so much simpler.

“Hey, Bob, look. In the corner there. She is cute.”

“Not purple, though. She’s not in the mood.”

“Well, you could get her purple, man. Go on.”

OK, I’m sorry. Got a little too far out there. Color me chided.

Roger White is a freelance writer living in Austin, Texas, with his lovely wife, two precocious daughters, a very fat dachshund, and a self-absorbed cat. For further adventures, visit


12 Responses to “Color Me Amazed. No, Bored. No, Intrigued. Oh, Never Mind.”

  1. bestbathroombooks September 14, 2011 at 4:42 pm #

    I got ripped off on the x-ray specs too. Live and learn!

  2. oldspouse September 15, 2011 at 1:32 pm #

    hey, funny post, Rog.

  3. oldspouse September 15, 2011 at 1:32 pm #

    aw, thanks, Rog. yer too kind.

  4. oldspouse September 15, 2011 at 1:32 pm #

    my pleasure. now get back to work.

  5. oldspouse September 15, 2011 at 1:33 pm #

    you need help, dude.

  6. oldspouse September 15, 2011 at 1:33 pm #

    no, YOU need help.

  7. oldspouse September 15, 2011 at 1:33 pm #

    no, YOU

  8. oldspouse September 15, 2011 at 1:33 pm #


  9. oldspouse September 15, 2011 at 1:33 pm #


  10. oldspouse September 15, 2011 at 1:34 pm #


  11. oldspouse November 2, 2011 at 2:27 pm #

    i before e except after c, Linz. And in weirdo.

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