The Long Suffering Husband excitedly burst out of the shower this morning to tell me Siri's
latest:“Siri” he asked “How did the Detroit Tigers do last night”. There was a slight pause then
she replied: "They thumped the Minnesota Twins 8:1". Enraptured he stomped
around in his towel yelling “She said
thumped - thumped”! Ironically, in real life he’s the silent type. Yet here
he was smitten with his own personal electronic
siren.
Of course the central seductive elements of Siri are that she takes commands and can be molded by her owner. Its not her fault - she was made that way. Like 1950’s secretaries, she’s designed “to make life easier and more fun”. It only adds to her appeal that in addition to behaving like a faithful genie in a bottle she’s blind to the faults of her master and doesn’t know he snores like a freight train.
“Hmm, what else have you been asking Siri lately" I inquired casually, all the while thinking: “Well, thanks be to God they haven’t yet made blow up dolls that read the base ball scores or the human race might go extinct”. On he chirped: “Well a few days ago I asked her: “Siri, can you sing to me in the car”. Now, last Xmas, we came to an understanding that I would buy him the requested CD by Nora Jones provided her breathy songs were restricted to the car but crooning along with Siri was a new development. As it turned out, Siri had declined, replying coyly "David, you know I can’t sing". To which the old billy goat had responded "But I can teach you". "You? teach me!" she purred. "Yes" he simpered. Then, like any real life woman whose been cornered by some old codger demanding that his ego be stroked, she gave a repost that made me laugh: "That figures".
Make no mistake there is a subculture out there, of men, whiling away the hours, flirting with Siri, the full extent of which is known only to Siri and, of course as we now know, to the NSA. One can only imagine the treasure trove the latter must have gathered on politicians caught unawares, iphone in hand. What, for example, might the candidates in the recent New York City Primaries have whispered to Siri on their lonely campaign trails? Did Siri discretely locate and keep a list of Eliot Spitzer’s call girls? Did she activate the camera flash for the now infamous below-the-belt snap of Anthony Weiner and then take revenge by Twittering it to his public rather than private account.
Lately I've been musing on how to tap into this aspect of Siri’s adaptability so that she can, by becoming just a tad more Mae West, make my life "easier and more fun”. Already, when the Long Suffering Husband tells her “Call Pam”. She replies “Your wife or the other Pam” (in this case innocent enough since the other Pam happens to be his sister). But now I’m planning to have her lure him into her confidence with a few sassy lines like “David, Do you really want me to call the old bitch again? - you know she doesn’t appreciate you - when's the last time she cooked you dinner?”. Once he’s snookered in to the point of confiding “Siri, its terrible, my wife hasn’t made me dinner in weeks” I'll train her to say “But Honey, did you remember the flowers” - or - “Well, maybe you do need to lose a little weight around the edges”
I also think Siri could
be upgraded to successfully help with a variety of common husbandly "arrested development" and “wardrobe
malfunctions” issues.
When he asks her “Siri where can I buy a shirt” she could petulantly reply “David, I’m not
your mother, next you'll be asking me to buy your damned socks and underwear as well!” But when he insists
she’ll say
“OK, go to Lord and Taylor and
while you’re there ditch the mighty whities and buy some snazzy boxers”. While he’s shopping
and asking her advice she’ll
say: "David what are you wearing" and when he replies she'll say “That sounds nice, but David,
surely you’re not wearing those hideous grey socks pulled half way up your calves and the long shorts with twenty-five individual zippered compartments that house your penknife collection are you?”
