Technology is Wonderful: Macaroni in the Printer

With endless and wondrous developments in computers, peripherals and wonderful gadget technology,  I-Pods, I-Pads, I-phones and " I-everything" one would think by now office equipment would be "I-fail" -- fail-safe, that is, close to infallible.   Much perfection, made in China,  and indestructible. Press the button, it goes. Maybe.
Computers, label-makers, printers, you name it.  All perfect, enough to make one itch for more new overpriced junk with buttons to press.
 

The Old Paper Chute

From a birds-eye view, stuff works  pretty well. at least until the day after the warranty expires.  All of the little common-sense safeguards are installed that might be expected. All of the impossible little quirks should be ironed out, too,  no?
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

 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.  
 *sigh.

Wonder what I'll have for lunch. Mac and cheese?

Is that incoming I hear?