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Nov. 16th, 2004 09:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
d_aulnoyThis morning, I read the "Making Light" post about jump bags, and promptly got freaked out at my amazing lack of preparedness in the case of an emergency - I have no canned goods! I have no silvery foil blanket! I have no cache of ready cash! etc., etc. - before realizing that, somewhat more urgently, I have no comfort level with my orals! I have no recent reviews posted! I have no, er, mailed rent bill! So, yeah, I should probably deal with those *now,* and with my travel-ready store of self-administrable vaccinations *later.* You should all go and read it, though, as it offers good advice. In fact, before making this post, I took two steps myself: I researched Swiss Army knives and I asked the 'rents for the number of one of their out of town friends.
Did you know that there were in fact *two* companies manufacturing these? The "original" Swiss Army Knife, produced by Victorinix, and the "genuine" Swiss Army knife, produced by Wenger, those biters. The Swiss Army knife people kinda scare me, truth be told, now that I've perused their web sites: I mean, first off, people? Same product here. Consider putting an end to the extended mind-fuck that you're subjecting your customers to, and just broker a merger already, 'kay? Second ... stop being weird. For example: did you know that there's now a Swiss Army knife with USB memory attachment? Who the hell is the target audience on that one? The camping CEO? Did you know that on their web-site they proudly point out that "Until now you had to choose between either the corkscrew or the Phillips screwdriver. Europeans mostly went for the corkscrew whilst the American preference was often the Phillips screwdriver. Now you can have both in the same tool." This is actually a fun fact indiciative of our national and continental differences, but the underlying paternalistic smirk? Weird, Victorinix! Weird, Wenger! Neither one of you makes me feel safe - actually, your continued existence with products like the SwissFlame (it's a Swiss Army Knife! it's a lighter! it's a meaningless update, but we figured that most of y'all wouldn't be able to figure out how to work a flint!) make me a little nervous, not about the collapse of civilization, but its existence.
My dad's immediate reaction when I asked for his old childhood friend's number ("two young boys, raised on the Steppes, now cruelly seperated by the breadth of a nation, by the average of freedom" [cue music]) was basically, "What do you want with *his* number?!?" as dad, a) knows that I don't actually like "Uncle" V. much. Well, actually, I like "Uncle" V. as much as I feel anything else for him, but I think that his wife is a harpy, so ... yeah. Not really a lot of demand there. And, b,) there's the fact that even *Dad* doesn't like "Uncle" V. much - I mean, yeah, best friend in the whole wide world since they were four and all, sure, but Dad's not all that expressive, and I think that he was pretty much equally horrified by the idea(s) that I planned to hit up his buddy for money or pester him with pleasantries. So I explained the fears about terrorism, and the idea of an out of town contact number, and the need for a survival kit, and Dad was silent for a minute. And then Dad laughed, and shared with me one of his touching reminiscences about how, back in Communist Russia, they had these too! Yeah, they were basically called "prison packs." [Or something equally alliterative and cutesy if somewhat more euphonious in the original Russian.] Same contents, too - documents, food, warm blankets, ready money (although, given that Soviet pragmatism, theirs was outright intended for bribes, and not for this euphimism of "just in case"). Ah, the more things change ... Someday, when the Martian invaders make *my* kids feel unsafe, I'll be able to share this fond memory of fear and persecution with them, right before I warn them to remember to pack a gene-manipulation kit in case of mutagenic bombs and remind them not to call Aunt Bryn before 9, even in the event of a pulse.
Good times ...
Did you know that there were in fact *two* companies manufacturing these? The "original" Swiss Army Knife, produced by Victorinix, and the "genuine" Swiss Army knife, produced by Wenger, those biters. The Swiss Army knife people kinda scare me, truth be told, now that I've perused their web sites: I mean, first off, people? Same product here. Consider putting an end to the extended mind-fuck that you're subjecting your customers to, and just broker a merger already, 'kay? Second ... stop being weird. For example: did you know that there's now a Swiss Army knife with USB memory attachment? Who the hell is the target audience on that one? The camping CEO? Did you know that on their web-site they proudly point out that "Until now you had to choose between either the corkscrew or the Phillips screwdriver. Europeans mostly went for the corkscrew whilst the American preference was often the Phillips screwdriver. Now you can have both in the same tool." This is actually a fun fact indiciative of our national and continental differences, but the underlying paternalistic smirk? Weird, Victorinix! Weird, Wenger! Neither one of you makes me feel safe - actually, your continued existence with products like the SwissFlame (it's a Swiss Army Knife! it's a lighter! it's a meaningless update, but we figured that most of y'all wouldn't be able to figure out how to work a flint!) make me a little nervous, not about the collapse of civilization, but its existence.
My dad's immediate reaction when I asked for his old childhood friend's number ("two young boys, raised on the Steppes, now cruelly seperated by the breadth of a nation, by the average of freedom" [cue music]) was basically, "What do you want with *his* number?!?" as dad, a) knows that I don't actually like "Uncle" V. much. Well, actually, I like "Uncle" V. as much as I feel anything else for him, but I think that his wife is a harpy, so ... yeah. Not really a lot of demand there. And, b,) there's the fact that even *Dad* doesn't like "Uncle" V. much - I mean, yeah, best friend in the whole wide world since they were four and all, sure, but Dad's not all that expressive, and I think that he was pretty much equally horrified by the idea(s) that I planned to hit up his buddy for money or pester him with pleasantries. So I explained the fears about terrorism, and the idea of an out of town contact number, and the need for a survival kit, and Dad was silent for a minute. And then Dad laughed, and shared with me one of his touching reminiscences about how, back in Communist Russia, they had these too! Yeah, they were basically called "prison packs." [Or something equally alliterative and cutesy if somewhat more euphonious in the original Russian.] Same contents, too - documents, food, warm blankets, ready money (although, given that Soviet pragmatism, theirs was outright intended for bribes, and not for this euphimism of "just in case"). Ah, the more things change ... Someday, when the Martian invaders make *my* kids feel unsafe, I'll be able to share this fond memory of fear and persecution with them, right before I warn them to remember to pack a gene-manipulation kit in case of mutagenic bombs and remind them not to call Aunt Bryn before 9, even in the event of a pulse.
Good times ...