Every time weâre at my parentsâ house, my sister and I go to war over who gets to control the playlist on my parentsâ Alexa. âAlexa, play Michael Jackson,â Iâll shriek, and a few bars will play before my sister bellows âAlexa, play NâSync,â until I interject with a request for Ed Sheeran three seconds later. Usually it goes on like this for a few hours until we come to blows or my dad yells at us to stop being idiots, whichever happens first.
I am therefore of the opinion that smart speakers like Alexa and Google Home exist almost exclusively to bring pain and discord into the world. It is an opinion that was cemented by reading Kaitlyn Tiffanyâs in-depth (and out-loud LOL-worthy) piece on [how voice assistants have come to dominate the holiday season](, and why you should resist the urge to buy them for your loved ones.
Her piece makes a convincing argument for avoiding the temptation of marked-down pre-holiday sales, citing data breaches and companies sharing information with advertisers as potential risks associated with buying âhigh end air fresheners.â
So as much as you may love asking your voice assistants questions like âwhatâs the capital of Boliviaâ or âhow tall was Andre the Giantâ you too can resist the steady creep of corporate infiltration into your private life.
â[E.J. Dickson](, reporter for The Goods
Smart speakers are everywhere this holiday season, but theyâre really a gift for big tech companies
[Amazon Echo](
Amazon
Everyone knows that there is, each holiday season, a gift that says, âI know nothing about you, but I love you, I mean, you get it.â For a very long time, this present was an iTunes gift card; Apple is the richest company in the world, and I am pretty sure this is exclusively thanks to the fortune it amassed from iTunes gift cards purchased for nephews and hairdressers in the first decade of the millennium. Prior to iTunes gift cards, the gift was maybe a sweater.
Now, Iâm sorry to say, the comparable gift is a smart speaker. We keep purchasing them for each other, buying into the fantasy that Siri or Alexa or Google can make someoneâs life easier by scheduling their appointments and managing their time and telling them how to put on makeup or make a butternut squash lasagna. Though, at the moment, [reports say]( that people mostly just use them to listen to music, check the weather, and ask âfun questions.â
As nondescript gifts, smart speakers make a lot of sense: Both Amazon and Google have options that are around $50, there is at least some novelty factor that pokes at adultsâ memories of receiving toys, and they are far less rude to give than a Fitbit. Plus, for Amazon and Google in particular, with 64.5 percent and 19.6 percent shares in the category, respectively, the point isnât really to make money off selling hardware. The point is to beat the others at integrating their services into the lives of the population.
In other words: Youâre not gifting an Amazon Echo; youâre gifting a relationship with Alexa. Amazon can later sell that relationship to brands that hope Alexa users will order their products with their voice. Youâre not gifting a Google Home; youâre gifting a closer entwining with Google Search and all the strange personalized add-ons to Calendar and Maps.
This expansion of the voice assistant ecosystem is crucial to almost every major tech company, far more so than getting sticker price for devices that look like high-end air fresheners, and if you donât believe me, please peruse the ridiculously marked-down Black Friday and Cyber Monday deals they offered this year.
[Read the rest of the story >>](
Hangovers are not a new problem. Why donât we have a solution yet?
[a tray of drinks](
Spencer Platt/Getty Images
For the past decade, Canadian journalist Shaughnessy Bishop-Stall has been on a quest to find a cure for the common hangover.
To this end, he consults remedies both medical and folk: He undergoes an IV treatment at a medical institution in Las Vegas called Hangover Heaven; consults with a menagerie of academics, a Druid, several doctors, and the CEO of 5-Hour Energy (among others); participates in a glacial New Yearâs polar bear swim; absorbs the beer-soaked wisdom of the English countryside; and ingests any number of curative concoctions, with varying degrees of success.
These experiences become fodder for [Hungover: The Morning After and One Manâs Quest for the Cure,]( a book that is as concerned with the science and culture of hangovers as it is with relieving them. I called Bishop-Stall to find out what we know about hangovers, why we donât know more, and why â if hangovers are so miserable â people keep drinking. Our conversation has been condensed and edited for clarity.
How did you end up spending a decade researching hangovers?
The more that I started to look into the science of it and the history of it, the more I realized that, first of all, no such large endeavor had ever been undertaken. There were no books about hangovers, really. I mean, there have been jokey coffee table books or some sort of ancient, obscure references, but there was really so little for what became, to me, such a large part of human experience. That disconnect was just too obvious, and so I just became more and more fascinated by it.
If itâs such a core part of human experience â drinking too much, feeling physically wrecked the next day â why hasnât it been studied more?
I think thereâs something mysterious about the phenomenon. Itâs a sickly, crummy, negative feeling, for the most part, and how much do we really want to focus on that? That may be one part of it. Even for me, it took a long time to realize what a wealth of fascinating stories come out of miserable aspects of life.
Also, thereâs just been so little focus on it in the medical and scientific communities, just because thereâs a very easy way to dismiss it: Well, you did it to yourself. Itâs your own fault. You drank. If you didnât drink, youâd be fine, so why even try to look into it anymore?
Itâs a phenomenon that is scientifically and culturally fascinating, but we just say, âOh, you know, itâs easily solvable.â The strangest thing is we believe itâs easily solvable because we did it to ourselves, but we also feel like we canât actually solve it. Hangovers are so dichotomous in that way. Itâs the same thing for cures: Everybody either thinks they have a cure and they go around telling everybody about it, or they believe that nobody has one.
[Read the rest of the story >>](
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