Computers, label-makers, printers, you name it. All perfect, enough to make one itch for more new
|The Old Paper Chute|
From a birds-eye view, stuff works pretty well.
No. They forgot one. How do we know that? We got macaroni in the printer.
Printers have a nice little chute for paper. Ah, you say-- the paper chute, that's where the paper is supposed to go.
That's where the paper did go. The paper with the macaroni on it.
Fan a sheaf of paper, stick it in the old paper chute, press the "Go" button, and oooh, la la!-- out comes the printing in perfect condition. Documents, 18ppm, black or in colour. Copies of beautiful art even.
Not so. Why? The printer jammed. It got macaroni in it. The high-tech message screen blinks. It says "Paper Jamb" but we know differently. It's a macaroni-jamb. The machine isn't that smart. At the very minimum the little screen should say " Remove pasta or other foreign objects and press "Reset".
No matter, maybe they'll think of that important improvement for the new, improved model.
It is a wonderful little piece of artwork, the nouveau-artiste-child-genius kind, the 4-year-old child variety that Grandmother's collect, faithfully sticking them on corkboard walls in a medly of escapism with I-love-Grandma valentine hearts, big smiles and sharp little coloured tacks.
Macaroni art; stuff the hungry dreams of Michelangelo were made of as he painted the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel just before lunch.
Displaying such treasures boldly on walls designates the artist's accomplishment a creation worthy of admiration by all --and creates immense happiness. The little artist with paint and glue on his face stands back, hands on hips, and admires it with pride, a grin and knowing look in his eye. We know how to make copies.
Macaroni art --glue, macaroni, rice, pinto beans, spaghetti, more rice, barley, a sprinkle of colour-- lentils and such, coupled with a creative set of little hands and finger paint, makes a memorable piece of art. Heavy art. Easily dissembled art.
How do we know all that? It must hate tacks. It plans escapes and jumps off of corkboard walls right into paper chutes. That's it.
Now the printer doesn't work.
Not willing to dismiss the complexities of technology, the genius micro-artist can't quite complete his next creation, the one he has already drawn on the computer, which is hooked onto a cable. On the end of the cable, we already know, there is a printer.
We press the button and expect it to work but it doesn't. The paper won't go in the chute. Why? It's got macaroni in it.
Not the gummy 'KD' kind with cheese. Not cooked. Not Mac and Cheese himself. Just ordinary, off-the-wall-double-back-flip- into the-paper chute macaroni, the elbow kind. The kind that crunches when you turn the printer on.
We might have to get a new one.
Oh well, the cartridge was no good anyway and at Incoming Bytes our astute readers don't have to guess it's the day after the warranty runs out. That figures. It's probably just as well. I don't think warranties cover macaroni in the printer anyway. They'll send the bill with the new one.
Wonder what I'll have for lunch. Mac and cheese?
Is that incoming I hear?