Commentary

When The Mailbox Can Talk To The Toilet Seat

If I learned anything this week by not going to CES, it's that this is the year of the Internet of Things, which means everything ever made from now on will connect in some way to the Internet and do things that will either be helpful or a total waste of time. As you adapt to the Internet of Things, your life will become a living hell when the cable modem goes down or somebody accidentally unplugs the router.

News coverage of CES has been overflowing with examples of new devices in or about to enter the market, but here are a few you might have missed in case you were watching a taped delay of “Downton Abbey” (goddamn that Barrow!!!).

The Connected Shoe: Sends a signal to your phone that your feet are firmly encased and puts a reminder on your Google calendar to tie them at your earliest convenience. Warns of the potential for a blister if you wear for hiking in Nepal. Compliments your choice of socks and tells your Facebook friends that you are wearing shoes today. If you are between 13 and 17 and of the male persuasion, suggests you toss them before you stink up the entire mudroom again -- and if and when you ever have sex, your smelly feet will be a major turnoff to somebody rethinking whether this is such a good idea after all.

The Connected Toilet: Associates the size and shape of your behind with your Pandora playlist so that when you sit, strains of "Blue Eyes Crying in The Rain" swell up from the nearest Sonos speaker. Automatically finds and opens to last page read on your Kindle app. Measures your output and suggests, to the Dumpster app on your phone, eight glasses of water a day or less Mexican food. Tweets that you are more regular than 87% of others your age and gender. Content analysis results in an email to your doctor that reports traces of a painkiller for which no prescription for you has been found. Texts you to be sure and wash your hands on departure.

The Connected Dog Bowl: Texts you that something underweight -- probably mice -- appear to be sneaking a snack whenever the dog isn't near the bowl. Weighs consumption of content and sends signal to ad servers that your dog apparently doesn't like what is in the bowl today, resulting in a flood of dog food ads on your phone and on every Web site you visit. When you enter the grocery store aisle for pet food, your phone lights up like an air-raid siren during the London blitz. Puts a reminder on your Google calendar of when the bowl was last filled, so you don't have to remember or guess if the water needs to be changed. Enters dog's name in sponsored content contest, resulting in 7,000 followers of his photo you sent over Instagram at Christmas. You get 46 angry emails from PETA members who did NOT think the Santa hat on his head was amusing. Three dogs from the neighborhood who want to have sex with your dog pop up in ads when you next go online. Producers of "The Last Ship" tweet that if you bring your dog, you can get tickets to the show for 75% off.

The Connected Mailbox: Texts that the mail has been delivered, but when you don't respond within an hour, retexts to add, "There is a package from Amazon." After another hour, retexts to say "And it is not just a book." After another hour, retexts that the internal temperature of the mailbox is now "below freezing." This is followed by a signal to the Mailbox app that chimes and says in that unforgettable, retro way: "You've got mail." When you ignore this, it takes a photo of the contents to show that it is not just all direct-mail catalogues and postcards from landscapers. Yet an hour later the apps moans: "It's getting dark and we hear noises." You start to get queries on your Facebook timeline asking why you haven't brought in the mail yet. Your mother adds: "How can you write me back if you don't read my letter?" Your address is sold on an Eastern European black market to burglars looking to hit vacant homes. You get a nasty email from the postal service saying: "For this we do snow, rain, gloom of night?" Lands' End sends you an email saying that if you bring in the catalogue before midnight, you can take an extra 10% off.

Next story loading loading..