My cell phone doesn't recognize me. Me! The guy who pays for its feeding each month...the guy who bought him the little leather jacket so he wouldn't fall and be smashed, cracked, broken, fragmented, in a mess, in a heap, no good, worthless, of no use. (No issues here.)
I tried the security app that allows face and voice recognition in order to unlock your phone, so as to provide added protection. I thought that was pretty nifty ("nifty" - from what dark pool did that arise all of a sudden?). Sorry, side bar - nifty makes me feel the need to wear plaid, dungarees, sneakers, eat peanut butter and jelly on white bread with a glass of whole milk, and call shotgun for the station wagon. [End Scene].
Okay, the phone who doesn't know his own Daddy - owner. So, I confirmed the app, allowed the phone to take my pic, and spoke the magic word for voice activation six times so it would understand me clearly. Okay, I spoke in French to the gadget, but it was to understand. It agreed it had. While on line in the grocery store, waiting to bless the running belt with groceries from the store's myriad of shelves, coolers, freezers, I held up my phone and looked at it. Immediately, I realized how odd I felt at the action itself: looking at my phone as if I were seeing it for the first time. This is a p-h-o-n-e - pa-hon-ee. No, fone (with a long o sound, silent e at the end); what's it for? You get the idea. It was foreign all of a sudden. In order to make my phone more secure, I handed it the power to recognize me in order to let me in to my own phone. Does this not seem ludicrous?
Staring at the phone, feeling fully stupid, noting how absurd this was, yet how normal this has become, I proceeded to unlock my phone.
The phone (I paraphrase): I DON'T RECOGNIZE YOU.
This has lead to an afternoon and evening of musings, ideas, doubts, a plethora a'plenty. So, more to come on this one. I'm not through with it for sure. Here's hoping my Blog recognizes me. Here's hoping I recognize me.
Timothy?
I tried the security app that allows face and voice recognition in order to unlock your phone, so as to provide added protection. I thought that was pretty nifty ("nifty" - from what dark pool did that arise all of a sudden?). Sorry, side bar - nifty makes me feel the need to wear plaid, dungarees, sneakers, eat peanut butter and jelly on white bread with a glass of whole milk, and call shotgun for the station wagon. [End Scene].
Okay, the phone who doesn't know his own Daddy - owner. So, I confirmed the app, allowed the phone to take my pic, and spoke the magic word for voice activation six times so it would understand me clearly. Okay, I spoke in French to the gadget, but it was to understand. It agreed it had. While on line in the grocery store, waiting to bless the running belt with groceries from the store's myriad of shelves, coolers, freezers, I held up my phone and looked at it. Immediately, I realized how odd I felt at the action itself: looking at my phone as if I were seeing it for the first time. This is a p-h-o-n-e - pa-hon-ee. No, fone (with a long o sound, silent e at the end); what's it for? You get the idea. It was foreign all of a sudden. In order to make my phone more secure, I handed it the power to recognize me in order to let me in to my own phone. Does this not seem ludicrous?
Staring at the phone, feeling fully stupid, noting how absurd this was, yet how normal this has become, I proceeded to unlock my phone.
The phone (I paraphrase): I DON'T RECOGNIZE YOU.
This has lead to an afternoon and evening of musings, ideas, doubts, a plethora a'plenty. So, more to come on this one. I'm not through with it for sure. Here's hoping my Blog recognizes me. Here's hoping I recognize me.
Timothy?
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