Congratulations, Donna. You're a winner. We'll contact Xtatix for you and get your grandma a nice new MP3 player.

Note: None of these have been edited for clarity, spelling, or couth. Please take the essayists ability to use spell check into consideration when voting.

Asheesh writes:

The digital age is upon us and the pressure to keep up with the neighbors on who can wire their grandparents up the most is in full force. It need not matter if grandma is ready, capable, or in need of any digitalization of her lifestyle what matters is that while Bob and Suzy might have a bigger SUV, and Phong and Quy have smarter kids my grandma is more wired. Grandma needs an MP3 player. One must settle upon a player that begins with the letter X . Such a player would mean that you are a rebel and surf on the edges of society more than if your player started with the letter i . Settling upon Xtatix I would have to say the Shooter is the product for her. The shooter serves many functions in one device. You can wear it around the neck, thus saving me from having to buy separate bling . She would also think that its her long lost brooch and be delighted! Its prominent position on the neck also signals to Bob and Suzy and Phong and Quy Hey look what I got. I m plugged in, its not white, and thus I am cool. It has a 12 hour battery life, which would last more than her waking and lucent hours. It has a backlit screen , and coupled with it around the neck, makes her easy to find in the dark when she wanders away from the house in fit of Alzheimer s dementia. With a 12 hour battery life, coupled with a dependable schedule, I can time messages in between the Glen Milller Orchestra and Benny Miller for those daily reminders that used to get repetitious and mundane. With her Alzheimer s, everyday will be the first time she hears it thus making the need for only 1 playlist! For instance, using the voice recorder and her playlist, when she awakens at 9 AM, her day would start off like: 9:00 AM - Good morning Grandma, love you. 9:03 AM Flush the toilet Grandma 9:04 AM Don t forget to pull up your pants grandma. Music 9:10 AM The bowel on the floor is not for you grandma. 9:12 AM The prunes are on the 2nd shelf to the right of the fridge grandma. With everyone having a Razor phone, subscribing to the same blogs, kids going to the same prep academies and dogs to the same groomer the need to differentiate ourselves extends to not only how we care for our parents, but how wired, hip and functioning they are. Xtatix s Shooter would serve that function for us perfectly.

Rob writes—if you call it writing:

I BY GRAMMA A CLAPPER BECUS SHE LIEKS CLAPPING AND CAINT SEE IN THE DARK.

I have a pathological need to enter essay contests, but I live in such fear
of actually *winning* that polished turd of a flash player that I had to
ensure that there was not a chance in Hell of it happening.

Thank you, this has been cathartic.

Andy writes:

I love my grandma. Of course, I'm talking about my one living grandma. Nobody liked the other one. If she were alive, I'd write about giving her an overclocked vagus nerve stimulator and leaving it at that. But I'm talking about the unimbalmed old lady that is my mother's mother.

In the twenty-six years I have known her, she has been the same great
old lady she always was, minus a little bit of hair and agility and
memory. But I wouldn't buy her a PDA or a robosuit or a can of white
spray-on hair. Do they even make spray-on hair in white?

She's almost 100 years old now but my grandma still plays golf, fishes
and drives a car. She even has a computer and types e-mails for her
husband because neither of them can hold a pen steady enough to write
and my grandfather is usually too busy making martinis. (Look at all
the gadget opportunities!)

I haven't even mentioned how lovely my grandma is when she genuflects
in church or dances in the Florida sun, or how much she loves to hear
old Glen Miller recordings. Still, I wouldn't get her a pair of Oakley Thumps.

A lady like my grandmother would seem to be doing just fine without
any gadgets at all. She's pretty, she smells nice, she has a lovely
voice and her manners are always perfect, especially when she cuts the
cheese: she only excuses herself aloud if someone obviously heard her
break wind. In fact, I think my grandma's only flaw is the volume of
gas that passes her colon, or more precisely, the volume of the noise
she emits expelling it.

If my grandma could use a gadget, it would be a set of Bose Acoustic Noise Canceling headphones (I have a set and I love them) specially modified to to be worn on a belt and to act as
loudspeakers to cancel her uncontrolled noises. I believe this gadget
would allow my grandma to be the most perfect 97-year-old lady even
when she's farting in the drug store incontinence aisle.

Donna writes:

First you have to understand my grandmother. What can I say? She's a recluse, she's self-absorbed, moans continually about her health problems, and the only technology she's ever owned is a telephone, a TV set and an ancient record player and radio console that weigh nearly as much as a baby elephant. Yes, she's intelligent, but it's the kind of smarts that went with her generation, not the kind she needs today. She's content with the way things are and changes disturb her equilibrium. So, I set out to fix all that and make her life easier. She interrupts me before I can finish explaining all of the wonders of the Xtatix Pocket Candy to her. "Baby, you know I cain't operate them new- fangled gizmos... " (Yeah, she still calls her over-fifty granddaughter "Baby".) "Pocket candy?" "You know my doctor told me I have to quit carrying that sugar stuff around, I can't have it anymore with my new diet." Then I attempt explaining mp3 technology to her. Vividly extolling all of the benefits of the small, compact players, the minute amount of space that disks occupy vs. her huge stacks of LP record albums and the old 78 RPM collection. Well, I might as well have been explaining how to build your own Estes Rocket from the blank look I was getting back from Gram. "Baby, why would I need this thing - I cain't play my Andrews Sisters records on it, or my Glenn Miller records, or Frankie Sinatra... so what good is it?" Quickly, I try another tactic, explaining how she needs to keep up with the times, and what an Apple Mini could do for her, how she could surf the net, make some new friends in forums, and burn her old records.... "Burn them??" "Why would I want to burn my records?" "I LIKE my records, Baby... and besides you know about those strict burning laws inside city limits." At that point, I realized a computer might be more than she could handle (or would even want to). Obviously, I was very rapidly getting nowhere, so I approached her with the Prius. Another losing battle, she keeps her 1950's model sedan inside the garage with a tarp over it. "Why, Honey (that's my 'other' name), I'd have to hire me a driver if I got one of those, you know I cain't drive no more!" I felt pretty silly at that point; I had totally forgotten that she doesn't drive anymore, and living on social security definitely wouldn't afford her the luxury of a chauffeur. Finally, I said, "Gram, what if I teach you how to use this amazing little Xtatix Pocket Candy gizmo, and show you how you can take it out in the yard when you work in your flower beds and listen to Glenn Miller at the same time." "Baby, why didn't you say so in the first place?" she replied, and she was ecstatically grinning from ear to ear.

Joe writes:

It s tough to buy tech for Grandma. This is especially true when tech means uses electricity.

First we tried the Ceiva digital picture frame. We ll just put it on her
phone line! Dials the web by itself after midnight! Retrieves whatever
photos we ve loaded up! All she d have to do is LOOK AT IT! She can
handle that!

Did I mention Grandma fears electricity? Right up there with burglers.
She unplugs everything in the house before bedtime. Everything. Except
the refrigerator, because she can t reach it. She d pull that one too,
if she could get back there. So out came the frame s power plug every
night. Unsafe! The Ceiva couldn t make its calls.

You learn to check for power before you sit down to watch TV.
Especially in the morning. One useful gift (constituting our pathetic
submission for this contest) was a power strip. Successful high tech!
It meant she could pull the TV, the cable box, and the VCR all with one
yank! Too bad it had that frightening red light on the switch there.
So she had to pull the actual cord.

Grandma keeps ALL her doors and windows locked, all the time. Burglars!
In the newspaper every day! When you go out to the garage on a visit,
you get about ten feet away and you hear that click behind you. The
porch curtain is just moving. Then you have to bang on the porch door
for ten minutes to get back in, because she can t hear you.

She s 84. Could fall down. And she still drives. Could get stuck or
lost! So we gave her a prepaid emergency cell phone. We glued a big
label on the back showing the keys to press if she had to make a call.
It might as well have been the ignition sequence for the Alamagordo
A-Bomb. She wouldn t touch it.

So we gave her a REAL cell phone. With all her numbers in speed dial.
She liked the concept! Too bad it had to be charged. OUT with that
plug at night! Ironically, it ran down when it was supposed to be
charging.

Leaving counts the same as going to bed. So everything gets unplugged
for trips out. This proved oxymoronish for the poor light timers.
They d be PLUGGED IN while she was out! We were FOOLS! (I should not
have suggested, in front of my wife, that she could keep them near the
door to throw at burglers.)

The WebTV keyboard hurts too much to bring up. Let s just say $100 down
the drain. I had trouble installing it, which she unfortunately
watched. And her face, her face - it was like putting her on Fear
Factor.

Apparently people never really like a gift if, when they first see it,
they make a face like getting an enema. Especially if it has a cord.

Vote!

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These essays are special. They are special because the indicate a distinct and rapid decline in the English language. They are also particularly virulent and odd and remind us that the heart of man is a dark and twisted place. Without further ado...

Related
Last Day - Essay Contest Re: Grandma, Gadgets, etc.

Jackrabbix writes:

I believe that the human washing machine is the gadget I would most like to give my grandma. There are several reasons why I'm sure that this would be the perfect tech-toy for her. Firstly, she has all sorts of handles and strange apparatus in her shower. She goes so far as to have a seat in there, so she doesn't have to stand while she gets clean. I know that she often has dizzy spells, and these things are certainly needed for her to wash her elderly self. How great it would be for her to have one of these next to 'her chair'... She could literally roll to the side, off of her chair, and into the cleaning machine! No more hazardous walks to the bathroom for her! Secondly, she does not seem to be very good at showering in the first place. I suppose that sitting to take a shower can't be very effective for getting the grime out of... um... Well nevermind about that anyway, I'll just re-iterate that she could sure use one.

Tom writes:

I would give my gramma a pair of Oakley Thump. The thump on Gramma wouldst be the Bomb. Grammas love large sunglasses and Buicks. Buicks and Thumpin' and Jive.
They had no Thump in her day, and good they did not — or the Grammas would be a-Thumpin'. Oh, boy, would they be a-Thumpin'.
They'd be Thumpin' in their Buicks and in their Lincolns. They'd be Thumpin' in the farmers markets and in Church. They would Thump in the bathroom, and thump when they stair off into space and suck on their dentures while they thump in their shades.

My Gramma, she wouldst Thump.

Dave writes:

As I was browsing through your site, I noticed the essay contest that's
currently underway. While I would like a shot at a Pocket Candy, and
the fame and glory that winning a Gizmodo essay contest entails,
I unfortunately have no living grandmothers.

In the spirit of equal opportunity, I got to thinking. How about a robotic
Grandma? A working body to live on in her stead would be just the thing to
commemorate my grandmother's memory. So the question becomes, exactly
how will I "Pimp My Robotic Grandma"?

I'd have to start with the Repliee-style body, though I'd have to make it
Caucasian to avoid any awkward situations with my friends. A
respectable Robogranny would need Bluetooth and WiFi, as well as a PC
lodged somewhere in her robotic innards.

Of course, no robotic ancestor would be complete without a
bling-blinging LCD, so I'd require a 24" Aquos to be lodged somewhere
in her lower back area.
Robogranny is just as forgetful as Real Granny, so I'd probably need a TiVo
in there too.

Now come the real hard decisions. One eye could serve as a video camera
while the other could be a digital projector. But what to do with the arms?

I suppose one arm would need an embedded keyboard while the other could have
a trackpad mouse. Any leftover space could be dedicated to a biometric
security system; after all, this is MY Robogranny, you'll have to build your
own. (Note: Make sure you have no living grandmothers BEFORE building
Robogranny. I don't think they'd take well to meeting their robotic
counterparts.)

So there's my Robogranny. Oh, and of course, it would have to be able to
breakdance. A man's gotta have standards.

John writes:

I've learned that grandmothers are procedural when it comes to technology, not conceptual. If a gizmo has sufficient complexity then there will be times when her procedures break down. This will result in a (rotary pulse dialed) phone call to the provider of the aberrant gizmo (POTAG).

During that phone call the grandmother will refuse to entertain the notion of learning the Way of the gizmo and instead will only be interested in getting over the present hurdle. This is a fact of life worthy of some meditation. Unfortunately, it shall always take at least three hours on the phone to deliver an effective custom procedure to a grandmother exasperated by a gizmo (GEBAG):

``I am clicking on it!''
``Ok, look down at the mouse. You are clicking on the left button, right?''
``Oh, my finger slid over to the middle button.''

Postulate: The gizmo most interesting to most grandmothers is the personal computer, and this gizmo is also one of the hardest to operate from a purely procedural paradigm.

I choose the personal computer as my favorite gadget for grandma, and proffer (hopefully with a tad more originality) that said computer should be configured with a reliable remote desktop service so that the POTAG can "just do it for her." This may involve some networking tricks, and take care not to give easy accress to a miscreant, but once configured the endless phone conversations will be a thing of the past:

``Ok you old GEBAG, step away from the keyboard. I'll fix your print queue.''
``Thank you sonny!! Cookies are in the mail!''
``Here The POTAG, have a trophy!''
``What?''

AChinn writes:

Oh, my poor Grannie. She's been through a lot: two World Wars, Vietnam and the Cola Price Wars, and yet she never lost her unflinching sense of self...until recently.

It's gotten to that point where Grannie just can't operate like she used to,
and it seems to mystify and perturb her. She lacks the physical dexterity to
cook or clean, and forget about driving a car. She pretty much is now
confined to her cramped, three thousand square foot Beverly Hills apartment.
Poor dear.

I'd really like to help her regain that sense of freedom and mobility. That
way she could resume some of the matronly functions that she felt gave her
purpose: illegal street racing, bear baiting, skysurfing and the like.

So when you asked what gadget I would get for Grannie, it became so very
clear. What she needs is that Alaskan mecha!

Imagine the sense of freedom Grannie would experience stomping down the
freeway, crushing Priuses (Is that the correct plural? Is it Priuces? Prii?)
like peanut shells.

Yes, with that mecha Grannie would regain some of her long-lost
functionality. Instead of relying on Domino's delivery for dinner, one shot
from the arm-mounted flamethrowers and pow: Instant beef flamb . And stove
flamb , and counter flamb ...

Sure, Grannie still thinks a "computer" is a job you need 4 years of
postgrad to get. And sure, she hasn't driven an automobile since the days of
dodging streetcars. But what isn't there to like about a 40-foot tall,
sinister-looking armored shell? She has been nervous about national security
in these times of heightened awareness. I was just going to get her a
flashlight and some canned food, but this would be much better!

So there it is, in a nutshell. Grannie just hasn't been herself the last few
years. I just know that her spirit would be rekindled if she became the
pilot of a car-crushing, terrorism-fighting, apartment-exploding mecha. And
if not, well, it would at least make for some good TV.