Disappointment Whores

So Madeleina and I had a fantastic Martin Luther King day. We prayed some, did some exercise, ate a good breakfast, she practiced the flute and piano, I was finishing a story. Then shopped for the veggies we need for the fresh Atlantic salmon and salad we're having tonight--no rice, potatoes, bread, we've pretty much been off those for a couple of months. Then I gave her $40 to buy me some books for my upcoming Peru trip while I went on to Two Bucks to buy my two minis of whiskey. She bought me two Elmore Leonard's, an Agatha Christie, and two others. Good choices for relaxing in Iquitos after the trip.
    While on the trip, I forget which part, we were talking about new cars and everything they can do--which stemmed from the story of a refrigerator which sent out 750,000 malware emails today, which it apparently could do because it was hooked up to the internet. She opined that while she loved technology--refrigerators over ice boxes, for instance--she didn't like the gas pump telling us: "Your transaction has been authorized, please begin to pump" at all. I agree. I don't like being told what to do by machines. After pumping gas she asked me why rich people had such huge refrigerators and I told her it was just status: The same person who would never touch tap water has tap water running into their $6,800 fridge to make their ice, for instance. And we laughed and she asked me why people bought fridges like that unless they were going to have 50 people every night. I said it was just the status of it: The interior designer said it added value to the home--even though anyone buying that multi-million dollar home would not keep the fridge owned by the last rich person who owned the home. "Nobody, even if they think Beyonce is the most beautiful woman in the world, is going to pay $10-$20 million for her home and keep the fridge," I said. "I mean, can you imagine the conversation with the wife? 'Honey, this fridge is great. Beyonce had it, and there's a little mold behind the veggie drawer, but we can get that out with a little peroxide and a toothbrush!'"
   No. Not happening.
   So we decided to call people who needed all the bells and whistles on fridges, in their cars, wherever, 'Knob snobs'. They're snobs for the number of knobs their stuff has. Our Ford Rangers, on the other hand, have a light switch, a standard clutch, a windshield wiper knob, a radio knob, a heater/air conditioner knob and a horn. That's it. You can't be a knob snob with seven knobs.
   Home, Madeleina began to talk about people wallowing in self-pity. "I call them disappointment whores, dad. It's like they're looking for something to be disappointed in, they depend on it."
   That's my Madeleina. Smarter than I'll ever be. Thanks for being my kid, kiddo.