Back to the Amazon

When I began to revive this blog, I never expected that the most popular entries would be Amazon's butchery of my interests. Still, these are the most viewed, according to Google, so I'll keep doing them. In the near future, I'll throw in Netflix, which makes Amazon look positively brilliant. The latest couple of checks of Amazon recommendations have actually produced far too many bloopers for a single blog entry, so this will be spread out over the next week or so. Since it's the gift that keeps on giving, I can't help but hope that there may be even more goodies waiting.

We'll start out with some self-help books. I'm always trying to lose weight and get into better shape. Having met remote members of my family tree, I know that I resemble the Lithuanian side of my heritage, but I'm about to give it up on blaming genes and simply call it a result of incompetent Intelligent Design:

Just to be sure that I wasn't missing anything, I expanded the list. Nope, this time Amazon has completely wandered off the feedlot and is now meandering at random. I do recommend the Don Norman book as an excellent introduction into product design. It's a fun read.

Sticking with our polka dot theme, it might be interesting to see what young adults are reading these days. I can remember a summer of Herman Hesse when I was thirteen, so almost anything is possible. Having said that, Norwegian branding design was still unexpected.

I better expand this list, too. Just to see what's back there:

A J.K. Rowling short story collection—understandable and certainly more appropriate. One Hundred Years of Solitude and a supporting trivia book? I can dig it. A little sophisticated (says the kid who was reading Hesse at thirteen), but magical realism is a great literary style and after this, the quality of the reader's school essays is bound to improve (although her or his grades may not).

But what's that lurking on the very edge? Virginia Woolf? To the Lighthouse?

I confess to never having read Woolf. Mark it down as one of my many character faults. The problem is that I never felt the need for a primer on how to be an angst-ridden adolescent. I had to read the reviews and the Wikipedia summary to get an idea of what it might be about. At this point, I think that I'll spare any teenagers for whom I might feel the need to buy a book from both Woolf and Hesse. Gabriel García Márquez seems to be a much better choice, or maybe a copy of A Confederacy of Dunces. I'll pass on the Rowling, too. Dandelion Wine and Something Wicked This Way Comes would both be better reads.

Wow. Totally heavy. Let's close this with a couple of my favorite insights on the part of Amazon. First, what I can only presume is an ethical guide to cloning:

Then, when I went back a week later, I found that it had been replaced by an eighteenth century dialogue on the existence of God:

I can only imagine the conversation in the operating room.

"Sarah, do you think that this is a metastasized region or a separate tumor?"

"John, a very small part of this great system, during a very short time, is very imperfectly discovered to us; and do we thence pronounce decisively concerning the origin of the whole?"

"I see your point, but the question is whether we should excise the whole bowel or just this region."

"You alone, or almost alone, disturb this general harmony. You start abstruse doubts, cavils, and objections: You ask me, what is the cause of this cause? I know not; I care not; that concerns not me."

"You know, Sarah, you're right. This guy's a walking corpse anyway. Let's cut the whole thing out, sew him up, and we can still catch half-price appetizers down at TGIFridays."

"But for my part, whenever I find myself disposed to mirth and amusement, I shall certainly choose my entertainment of a less perplexing and abstruse nature. A comedy, a novel, or at most a history, seems a more natural recreation than such metaphysical subtleties and abstractions. Or, barring that, an order of fried green beans and a Long Island iced tea would go down right fine."

More Amazon Goodness

So, I had an Amazon seller cancel an order on me without wasting time letting me know. Groovy. Now I can return the parts that I ordered to go with the cancelled equipment.

In exchange, Amazon continues to amaze with suggestions. The other day, it offered up Paradise Lost as a "Children's Book." Unfortunately, I wasn't able to get a screen shot of that, because it was particularly memorable. If I had to think of a way to turn a kid away from reading, I'd be hard pressed to think of a better choice.

Today's suggestions aren't as good, but there are a few worth noting. First of all, in the reference department, we have that fire safety manual:

Next is Amazon demonstrating that all electromagnetic waves should be treated equally, regardless of frequency:

If you happen to be a particularly funny photographer, you'll definitely want a copy:

I have nothing to add that can improve upon this:

When my kids were little, we occasionally had a bath bomb. I might pick these up for nostalgia's sake:

I suspect that Amazon is trying to tell me something about being particularly dim:

I've been trying to avoid current events lately, but these seem to be taking it a bit too far:

In order to be prepared if your Tesla runs out of power four inches from the outlet:

Once again, I can literally think of nothing that would add to the spectacular nature of this selection. There are at least three completely different forms of humor on display here:

While I suppose that asphyxiation could be used to kill wild game, how do you get a live trout into a vacuum freezer bag, let alone a deer?

If you ignore the title, the subtitles are a pretty good description of teenagers, given my experience at raising two of them:

Amazon's Algorithms Are Clear, Now

So, Amazon decided that my interests lay in Religion and Spirituality books, a topic of which the best that can be said is that my reading tends to the highly esoteric. If the recommended books had involved the various aboriginal religions, seventeenth-century religious schisms in Islam, or medieval Lithuanian paganism, I would have been impressed and might have perused the selection.

Instead, it consisted almost entirely of pop theology, Christian leadership, and "The Men Who Stare at Goats" (to quote the great Dave Barry: I am not making this up). Since I don't read these books (although I might read "The Men Who Stare at Goats", if I ever find the time), I couldn't begin to guess why Amazon decided to recommend them. Fortunately, I can click a link and find out:

Wow! Three Vonnegut novels, Huxley's classic, a novel of the Franklin Expedition of 1845, and Grant's Memoirs. If I saw these on your bookshelf, I'd come up with a very different list of suggestions. Something regarding the Elder Gods might be appropriate, or more likely, something from another shelf in the library. (I do actually own and have read all of these books, by the way.)

Amazon is also incorrect in that my hobby is not voyeurism. I live in a neighborhood filled with middle-aged bodies living middle-class lives. Frankly, my neighbors are neither attractive or interesting enough to justify peering through their windows, making this suggestion irrelevant:

More Amazon Fails

I'm not certain whether sunken WWII aircraft carriers qualify as Craft, Hobby, or Home, but any of the alternatives are a tad morbid:

At this point, I feel the need to mention that I don't build ship models and never have, either indoors or outdoors:

Vacuum sealing equipment seems to be putting the cart before the horse when it comes to hunting gear:

If you take your Tesla to Europe:

Wedding rings have been popping up for more than a month now and I'm not quite sure what to make of it. I've been married for more than thirty-two years.

I certainly can't add anything to this:

Unless this is a graduate text on using analytics for Gerrymandering, I can't imagine the connection:

It may come as surprise to you, but I can't remember the last time that an Amazon recommendation was of any use to me.

Amazon's AI Has Gone Full SkyNet

I've mentioned in the past that Amazon seems to view my purchase of Andy Grove's "High Output Management" as an opportunity to clear its shelves. Here's today's suggestion:

I must have missed that chapter. I'll have to re-read it now.

As further proof that Amazon has confused my list with a certain friend of mine's, I present the following:

God help the child who learns to read from James Joyce. I learned from Kurt Vonnegut and look where it got me.

Amazon has also noticed that I am trying to lose some weight and is offering encouragement based upon the principle that you can never be too rich or too slim:

It has recognized that my home office is near the kitchen, so it's made a useful suggestion:

If you don't immediately recognize it, it's a sliding spice rack for a kitchen cabinet.

Topical, if not necessarily helpful:

I suspect that was a paid placement by the American Bar Association, who was desperately trying to demonstrate that not all lawyers are vile humans.

Amazon still thinks that I'm a maritime engineer:

Although it does note that I spent a lot of time in Germany.

And finally, reason number one why Grainger has nothing to fear from Amazon when it comes to professional-grade mail order:

I was surprised to find out that USB cables are available in triple-aught gauge. They allow for the charging of your cell phone in under 100 ms.

nb: I bought a pair of 20' AWG 750 copper cables which would have been about a 7/0, if the scale went that high, back when I was in grad school. They cost $250 each back then, were an inch of copper, with another eighth-inch of insulation. They weighted in at about fifty pounds each and looked like something that you would hang a bridge from. I'd love to have about four feet of that cable now to jury-rig a power cable out of, so that I could show up in meetings and look around for someplace to plug my laptop in.

That's how you get cred in the tech world.