Yo, Yo-Yos!

When I was a kid, I loved playing with my yo-yo.

Not that I was all that good. Sure, I mastered the basics: walk the dog; around the world; getting the yo-yo to sleep; that pendulum thingy. But I wasn't a trick-meister, by any means. Nor was anyone I knew - other than, maybe, my brother Tom. I seem to remember him being pretty adept.  

We all had yo-yos. We used them in the schoolyard during recess. We used them solo, when there was no one around to play with and you didn't feel like reading the latest Nancy Drew.

Everyone had a basic wooden Duncan Yo-Yo, with string-string. I don't remember there being any other options. Those snappy translucent yo-yos in fluorescent green, and the aluminum ones, came later. I don't remember there being any nylon string either.

Other than Duncans, the only yo-yos I remember from my childhood were those ridiculous flimsy little plastic ones that came as the prize in cereal or a box of Cracker Jack. They were in size somewhere between a nickel and a quarter, and the string was thread.

Unlike the swell Navy frogmen that came in Kellogg cereals - the ones where you put baking soda/powder in a little compartment in an outsized flipper and got to watch the frogman buzz around the tub on a very important mission - the cheapo plastic button-sized yo-yos did not work. 

You could yo down, but the yo-yo itself was too light, the thread too flimsy, to be able to yo back up. Let alone do a trick.

In my world, y0-yos were popular in the mid-to-late 1950s, and then had a resurgence when I was in high school in the mid-1960's.

In high school, I owned a red wooden Duncan with a white cloud-like striped design.

As I said, I wasn't all that good at it, but I wasn't out-and-out terrible, either. I just didn't excel in yo-yo as I had in playing jacks, the one "sport" I was ever any good at. (A few years ago, I tried to see if I still had my mojo working, but my hands were too big. And it was too damned uncomfortable sitting on a hard floor, let alone getting up from it.)

Back in the day, if there were any yo-yo contests around, I wasn't aware of them.

I do recall a hula hoop contest in the parking lot of the Stop 'n Shop when I was in fourth or fifth grade or so - whenever the hula hoop craze was at its peak. I went with my sister Kath and our friends, but we didn't arrive in time to contest. There were hundreds of kids there, and we just milled around the perimeter, hoops in hand, before getting bored and heading home.

But as I learned recently, competitive yo-yo is a thing, and in late June the nationals, run by the good folks at the National Yo-Yo Contest, were held in Las Vegas.

Lots of divisions and sub-divisions. So lots of contestants, and lots of winners. It's a sport dominated by males -  young males -  and, let me tell you, what these kids can do with a yo-yo is pretty phenomenal. 

Ryan Connolly, a local from North Easton, Mass., was crowned champion of the 4A Division. 4A is described as yo-yo-ing off the string. I couldn't quite picture what stringless yo-yo-ing is, but seeing is understanding. The string is not attached to the yo-yo. You toss the yo-yo and catch it on the string, in the air, and do tricks with it. 

Connolly is what I would call a quasi-professional. There doesn't appear to be any prize money in these contests. You win your medal and a bag o' yo-yo-related prizes. But Connolly - who graduated from UMass Amherst a couple of years ago and who works as a financial analyst - has a side gig coming up with product ideas for a Korean yo-yo maker. Mostly, I'm guessing he's in it for love of the game. And as side-hustles go, this is a pretty fun and interesting.  (And quirky enough to make it to Connolly's LinkedIn profile.) Beats being an influencer!

Connolly is also the World 4A Champion, and will be defending his title in Japan later this month. Good luck, Ryan!

Me? I think I may have a yo-yo around here somewhere. I don't think I have my trusty high-school Duncan, but I seem to remember a more yup-scale yo-yo I got at Sharper Image (oh, those were the days). Anyway, I'm going to scout around and see if I've still got it. (The yo-yo, and my former mad "skills.")

I don't think I'll be trying any 4A tricks, but I'd like to see if I can still walk the dog.

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Image Source:  National YoYo Hall of Fame

Send in the Indianapolis Clowns.

When it comes to baseball, I'm not a 100% purist, longing for the return of men in baggy wool unis sweltering through a double header. I like that they've sped up the game by putting a stopwatch on the pitcher, and an automatic runner at second when game's go to extras. At Fenway, I enjoy singing Sweet Caroline between the top and bottom of the eighth, even when the Red Sox are losing, which these days they're mostly doing. And I actually like Banana Ball.

For those unfamiliar with Banana Ball, it's a Harlem Globe Trotter style game, centered on the Savannah Bananas.

The team tours the country playing what it calls Banana Ball: a family-friendly, souped-up, TikTok-ready version of the national pastime. Games feature singing and dancing and celebrity cameos, plus backflipping outfielders, stilt-walking batters, and the occasional double to the gap. Last year, according to the organization’s own data, the Bananas and their affiliated teams sold 2.2 million tickets—more than 11 different MLB franchises. (Source: The Atlantic)

I wasn't among those 2.2 million ticket buyers. The Bananas came to Fenway, and I entered the lottery, but didn't make it through to ticket purchase. I didn't score this season, either, although just as well. Walking to Fenway for a game is one thing, trekking to Gillette Stadium, where this year's games are being played, is quite another.

Still, I do like the Bananas. 

I also like baseball history. And if there's one sport that's full o' history, it's baseball. 

Part of this history is its sordid history of segregation, and the glorious history of the Negro Leagues. 

The most famous of the Negro League teams was probably the Homestead Grays, which featured superstars like Josh Gibson and Cool Papa Bell. Pitcher Satchel Paige played for a couple of Negro League teams, including the Kansas City Monarchs.  (In the early 1940s, my father saw Paige and the Monarchs play an exhibition game at Holy Cross' Fitton Field in Worcester.) Say Hey, Willie Mays started out playing with the Birmingham Black Barons. 

The Indianapolis Clowns, one of the lesser known Negro League teams, is being resurrected as one of the teams that plays as a foil for the Savannah Bananas. (The other teams are the Party Animals, the Firefighters, the Texas Tailgaters, and the Loco Beach Coconuts.)

The revival of the Clowns, which is being done in conjunction with the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum, is interesting on a number of different fronts. 

One is that the Clowns in their heyday did a lot of clowning around that played into racial stereotypes - shuffling Stepin Fetchits of the diamond. The Banana Ballers are well aware of the stereotype, and have to walk the tightrope between presenting their players as athletes and performers. This is the case across all their teams, but has particular resonance for the Indianpolis Clowns, given their legacy as a Negro League team. (Their most famous player was none other than Hank Aaron, who briefly played for the Clowns before signing on with the Boston Braves.)

Another thread of the new Banana Ball Indianapolis Clowns story is the desire to promote baseball to Black kids. The Clowns are a diverse team, but they prominantly feature Black players. Former Red Sox player (and fan favorite) Jackie Bradley, Jr., is one of them, as he's now playing fo the Clowns. As is Mo'ne Davis, who famously made news a decade ago for being the first girl to pitch and win a game at the Little League World Series. Mo'ne, by the way, has a master's degree in sports management from Columbia University.

Black players dominate the NBA and NFL, but their representation in Major League Baseball has fallen over the last few decades from a high of nearly 20% to a bit under 7% this season. There are a number of reasons for this, including a lack of urban organizations enccouraging partcipation in baseball, and thus a lack of opportunities to play, and the expenses associated with playing the game at a competitive youth level. 

While Black participation has declined, the number of Hispanics (many from the Dominican Republic and Venezuela) playing in the majors has grown to nearly 30%. Asian players are also coming on - Shohei Otani, anyone? - and now make up about 3% of the current rosters. 

I love the idea of increasing Black participation in baseball. More Mookie Betts, please! And I love the idea of anything that promotes interest in baseball, IMHO the best game ever. Even if it's the Banana Ball which, let's face it, is kind of silly. But it's entertaining. And it's baseball. 

So yay Indianapolis Clowns. LFG!

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Image Source: eBay

Ford doesn't always have a better idea

Growing up, my family had Fords. Fairlanes. Galaxies. In the mid-1950s, we had a two-tone, turqouise and white Fairlane. My father wasn't the flashy type, but when it came to his wheels, he sometimes indulged in surprisingly out-there colors. A bit later - early 1960's - we had a two-tone yellow and white number. I loved the colorful cars, but learned to drive with Black Beauty, a black Galaxy 500. (Somewhere along the line, we started giving our cars names. Black Beauty was followed by the Green Hornet.)

I'm sure that my parents were drawn to Ford for its affordability. We were by no means poor, but as the ditty of the day went:

Rich man drives a Cadillac. Poor man drives a Ford.

But my old man goes down the street on four wheels and a board

It may also be that the company my father spent his working life, Thompson Wire, sold wire to Ford. Or to companies that made components for Ford. My father had started out on the shop floor, but became a salesman and I remember him going on trips to Dearborn, Michigan, world HQ for the Ford Company.

In any case, we were a Ford family, and I've always been partial to the Ford brand. (In much the same way, because my father interrupted his Thompson Wire career during WWII to serve, I root for Navy in the Army-Navy game. Not that my father was so gung-ho on the Navy. Most of his war stories were about officer idiocies and Mickey Mouse regulations. (My father did not see combat, and was pretty much only in harm's way (or in the way of German UBoats) only when he was being shipped to and from Trinidad where he spent a couple of years before being stationed at Chicago's Navy Pier. As he always told us, you went where Uncle Sam sent you.))

So Ford. 

Not that I've been a big Ford owner. I've only owned three cars in my life, but one was a Ford (a Mercury Tracer).

So, Ford.

You may recall that a while back, Ford's CEO Jim Farley was making some headlines declaring/speculating/wishfully thinking that AI was going to do away with half of the country's white-collar jobs.

And I guess that Ford thought it'd get a jump on things by letting go of a raft of experienced quality engineers and technicians - only to have to bring them back.  

“Mistakenly, we thought that by just introducing artificial intelligence and adjusting the design requirements that we had, that that would produce a high-quality product,” the automaker’s VP of vehicle hardware engineering Charles Poon told reporters, per The Verge. (Source: Futurism)

What happened should have been predictable. (They might have asked ChatGPT.) Among other things, Ford deployed:

...900 AI-powered cameras in its plants "to detect quality issues at the source and help us mitigate supply disruptions", [COO Kumar] Galhotra told investors. 

But Poon told reporters on Wednesday the firm's AI-driven checks had failed to live up to expectations.

"Mistakenly, we thought that by just introducing artificial intelligence and ingesting the design requirements that we had, that would produce a high-quality product," he said.(Source; BBC)

Instead, the company slipped in the quality rankings. Oopsa doopsa.

But you can't blame lil' old AI. 

Instead, it all went wrong because its experienced workers left before Ford could get them to transfer their valuable knowledge to Ford’s AI systems and help refine the tech intended to obviate them. (Back to: Futurism)

Ah, for the good old days, when Ford used to brag that "quality is job one."

Of course, they've only dragooned their engineers back so that they can improve AI enough to replace themselves and all the other workers that Ford's CEO predicts are going down.

My fear and loathing of AI is no secret. I'm no Luddite, and well understand that AI has and will continue to have many positive uses. But I just don't see why it's worth despoiling the environment and destroying the livelihood of millions of people so that some lazy-arsed kid can "write" a book report on a book they haven't read. So that someone's smarty-pants fridge can alert them that they're out of milk. So that a bunch of tech bros can become multi-billionaires while most folks are just trying to keep a meal on the table, a roof over their heads, and a Ford in their garage. 

Something tells me that Ford doesn't always have a better idea.

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Image Source: Sotheby's

And you thought Lyme disease was bad...

New England is pretty much ground zero for Lyme disease. (The name itself comes from the town of Lyme, Connecticut.) And I know a couple of folks who've been diagnosed with it. It's the No Fun Zone, for sure. The friends I know "just" have the long-run joint pain, but there are all sorts of pretty serious symptoms associated with Lyme.

I'm not out in tick territory very often, but have had a couple of scares over the years. 

The bulls-eye rash was probably from a spider bite acquired in the wilds of Maine, but my doctor prescribed an antiobiotic just to be on the safe side. 

With the second scare, the rash wasn't so bulls-eye-ish, but I sent a picture in and had a tele-appointment with a doctor. Turned out to be big nothing. Phew!

Who wants Lyme disease?

Not I, said the fly. Or the tick. Or whatever.

And if I thought Lyme disease was a must-avoid, what am I to make of alpha-gal syndrome, brought to you by the lone star tick and now breaking out in Massachusetts' elite island environs:

Likely brought to Martha’s Vineyard and Nantucket by migrating birds, lone star ticks are native to the American South, but climate change has allowed them to survive in northern coastal areas and given them a longer active season. Their typical period runs from April through September. (Source: Boston Globe)

Which, natch, is vacation time for the rich and famous, and everyone else who loves these islands. Although I've only been to MVY and ACK - I see cars in my 'hood with the airport designation stickers on the rear window -  a few times, and not in years, they're both beautiful, charming, and all sorts of other good things.  

And they are more likely than deer ticks, which carry Lyme, to be found in the short grass of a mown lawn. 

As in just outside your front door. Supah! 

Alpha-gal syndrome sounds sort of jaunty. Kind of like girlboss. But the gal is for galactose (a simple sugar), and the syndrome is anything but jaunty. A tick bite can result in an "incurable allergy to red meat, dairy, even some medicines found in everyday life across the island. " While some folks aren't affected, in others:

 ...sugar primes their immune system to wildly overreact when they eat food that contains that same molecule, such as red meat and dairy. Symptoms range from a mild rash, hives, itching, stomach pain, and diarrhea to, in some, anaphylaxis. It is believed that repeated bites from lone star ticks can worsen the allergic reaction.

Swell!

And, unlike the deer tick which brings us the gift of Lyme disease, the lone star tick doesn't just dwell in woods and tall grasses, which you can kinda-sorta avoid. Or wear long pants and socks pulled up over the pants legs. (A nice look which I have sported on occasion in walks in the scrub on the Cape.) The lone star tick is everywhere, including lawns. 

Longtime islanders have to be wary of going in their own yards, and school lunches pose a threat to kids who might be allergic. Even some medicines pose a risk if the gel caps they come in are derived from animal proteins that could trigger an outbreak.

Residents are trying all sorts of things - chemical and organic sprays.  But also:

...pesticide-treated clothes, acupuncture, herbal medicine, even genetically engineered mice — all are on the table as preventatives or cures.

Pesticide treated clothing? Yikes. I'm sure that's a real joy for parents. Does this come in a onesie?

And there are the inevitable tensions between the chemical and organic advocates. 

The lone star ticks are, of course, on the march. Some have been spotted in Massachusetts. Good thing I don't have a lawn, I guess. 

Culling the local deer population is also under consideration. But the lone star tick is wilier than the deer tick that's responsible for so much of Lyme disease. And:

Lone star ticks are also faster and more aggressive than other species. Their larva cluster into what’s called a tick bomb. When disturbed, the larva, about the size of a grain of sand, can swarm a person by the hundreds.

Restaurants are responding with "alpha-gal friendly" menus, but some folks are so sensitive that even a whiff of a hamburger broiling away on the grill can cause a reaction. And forget taking a gel capsule medicine. Chalky tablets for you, my friend. 

The good news is, once you're on the beach, there are no ticks. Just don't walk through scrub and dune grass to get there. But once you're in the sand, it's still okay to go barefootin' and flip-floppin'. 

But overall, alpha-gal syndrome sounds just ghastly. Sure, you can convert to being a vegan, but if just smelling a burger being cooked can set you off, this one is a must avoid. 

And I thought Lyme disease was bad...

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Image Source: Fortune

What's a kitchen for, anyway?

Eleven years ago, I gut reno'd my kitchen. In a small-footprint, greenhouse galley kitchen, there's not much choice about what goes where, but I got to pick out all new: appliances, cabinetry, countertops flooring. Everything plus the kitchen sink. 

For colors, I went basic: gray and white, with an a pretty mid-turquoise as my accent color. You can't see much of that accent color in this pic, but there are other spots where there's more wall space. The accent color was dictated by my sister having given me a Caribbean blue Le Creuset Dutch oven. (That color is now discontinued, but not before I was able to acquire a large skillet and a small skillet. I love me my Le Creuset. Bonus feature: upper-body workout to lift it.) After I decided on the blue walls, I unearthed two decorative tiles I've been gifted with by some friends. They're above the stovetop, and have the same Caribbean blue in them.

The one mistake I made with my kitchen was not having a pull-out drawer for pots and pans. So every time I need to get out a pot or a pan or a lid, I have to unpile them from their shelves. I do keep the Dutch oven and large skillet on the stove top, as they are my most used items, and are probably used for a good 80% of my cooking. 

I keep a lot of stuff out.

All my utensils are contained in three decorative pitchers. I should weed out the ones I don't use and get that down to two, but it's fine for now. Flanking the stovetop, there's a spoon rest on both sides. 

I keep out my food processor, paper towel holder, knife rack, most-used salad bowls. Water bottles, and some aluminum cups - the old timey kind, which I like for drinking cold water out of. Trivets. A couple of small vases that I sometimes put a flower in. Sometimes. Cutting board(s), including the titanium one which I recently ordered after reading about how dangerous wood and plasticky ones are. I just haven't unboxed it yet.

Over my sink, I have a strainer, which is especially useful for washing fruits and veggies. 

Next to the stove there's a box of Kosher salt, which I use pretty much whenever I cook. 

Other stuff on my counters: toaster oven, bread box, electric tea kettle, tea caddy, a couple of mugs, my Keurig for the occasional coffee drinker stopping by, a few smallish bowls - various sizes, various uses. Salt and pepper shakers - some old timers that were my mother's. My recipe box.

In addition to the ones hanging in front of the oven, I typically have a few dishtowels, keeping them handy on the counter. 

Even though the kitchen is small, I like having things at the ready for when I need them. Who wants to go rooting around in their time of need?

I love my kitchen, and although it is now nearing its 11th birthday (this fall), I've never grown tired of it. And although I deliberately went with a never-in-style-never-out-of-style design, I still think of it as very up to date and modern.

Think again! 

In the country’s wealthiest enclaves, like New York City and Miami, concealment has become the defining aspect of the contemporary kitchen. What began with “appliance garages” and refrigerators and dishwashers that look like cabinets has evolved into a far more ambitious practice of disguise, with custom millwork and technology obscuring everything from sinks and cooktops to electrical outlets and small appliances...

Sharon Dranko, the former chief executive of Isla Porter cabinetry and a consultant for kitchen brands including Nobilia, said the rise of open-plan living has helped fuel the trend. “Kitchens are more open and visible than they used to be, so people want all the capability without every appliance becoming part of the aesthetic.” (Source: NY Times)

Never thought of it that way, but I guess my appliances and all that other kitchen stuff is part of my aesthetic.  

But if you're going with a luxe "hyper kitchen" - which will run into the hundreds of thousands of dollars, if not scooting above and beyond the million dollar mark - you want things hidden.

At one NYC design firm:

Its most popular offering is a marble island with a mechanized sliding countertop that glides open to reveal a sink and induction cooktop. Other pieces include cabinetry with retractable panels that completely obscure shelving, storage or appliances. 

OK. My trash can is hidden away in a pull-out drawer cabinet. And I known plenty of folks with Sub Zero refrigerators that have a cabinet front. But a hidden sink???? If I want to rinse some blueberries, the last thing I want to do is try to remember how to retract the "sliding countertop" to find the sink. 

As it turns out, a lot of these "hyper kitchens" aren't for use. They're for show, or for entertaining. Some of the folks that have them have secondary or even tertiary kitchens were the work of preparing food gets done. Plenty of them don't cook period. And if these modern kitchens are in second or third or infinity and beyond houses, they'd only be used a few weeks a year, anyway. 

One designer created a space with yet another hidden sink and cooktop:

The island portion features a sink and cooktop hidden by a retractable winged countertop that lifts and disappears into its body; the piece also incorporates A.I.-controlled lighting and voice activation. The refrigerator, oven and dishwasher are housed in a separate component: a massive box coated in metallic black lacquer. 

Because nothing says homey, says comfy cozy, like "a massive box coated in metallic black lacquer." 

The one thing I don't like about my kitchen - other than not having a pull-out drawer for pots and pans - is that there's no room for a table in it. No place to hang around in.

Some of my most cherished memories are of time spent in the kitchen.

Cups of sweet milky tea at the table in my grandmother's shambly old kitchen. (She never fully replaced the linoleum when it wore out, so her kitchen floor was a patchwork of unmatched pieces - red, yellow, green, gray - that she used to patch worn spots.) 

Until I was 6, we lived in a flat in my grandmother's three decker. The kitchen was so large (same footprint as Nanny's shambly kitchen, which was directly below it) that it doubled as the guest room, with a studio couch that opened up into two beds. 

Playing Canasta and Boggle around the table in my mother's crowded little kitchen. Endless cups of tea in my friend Marie's kitchen in Providence. (I did my kitchen reno the year after Marie died. She had a couple of kitchen renos under her belt and I'm sure she would have advised my about the pots and pans drawer!) Arguing (as adults!) about who was going to get to sit at the children's table - the kitchen table at my cousin Barbara's - when she hosted Christmas dinner. 

Cooking and socializing. Isn't that what a kitchen's supposed to be for?

Hyper - and hyper pricey - kitchens with everything hidden away? Phooey!!!

I truly want this 3D house printing thing to work...

God knows, Cairo, Illinois, isn't the only community in dire need of housing. After all, I live in Boston - one of the most expensive cities in the country to rent or own in - AND I volunteer in a homeless shelter. 

The other day, I spoke with a young woman originally from Alabama who came to Boston because, she told me, there was no help for folks like her - a poor Black woman fleeing an abusive relationship - in Birmingham, Alabama, and she heard she might find some in Boston. She's been her a few weeks, and is living in her car, hoping to find a place to call home. I hope she finds what she's looking for - she's sweet and funny, and incredibly proud of her daughter, a sophomore at an HBCU - but it may not come quickly and easily. We just don't have anywhere near enough affordable housing. 

Neither does Cairo, Illinois, a rundown, poor, largely Black river town on the banks of the Mississippi. (Pronounced KAY-ro, if you're not familiar with it.)

There, two local men decided to take out a loan, invest in a 3D construction printer, and build 30 duplex houses for the city of Cairo - the first new homes built there in 30 years or so.

Sadly, things didn't quite work out. In 2024, work began, and the first duplex was kinda sorta almost done. Then cracks started to appear in the walls. The project skidded to a halt and now "the parts of a massive 3D construction printer sat disassembled on a flatbed trailer, weeds climbing the wheels."

Propublica decided to take a close look at this project gone bad, and found out that it had pretty much had fiasco written all over it from the jump. The fellows who had gotten the project off the ground were way in over their heads, and their are rumors of fraud. 

It wasn't just Propublica that started poking around the situation. The FBI is also investigating. To date, no charges/arrests. So not clear whether this is a case of the road to hell paved with good intentions - those OG guys with the 3D printer idea and others (individuals, organizations, and busineses) that got in on the action along the way - or something more nefarious or a combination of naivete and bad-acting. Not to mention governmental screw ups, of which there is no short supply of. 

The story is long and complicated, and worth a read, if you've got the time for long and complicated. 

But back to 3D printing of houses.

I truly want this concept to work out. I don't know whether it'll be able to do much for the chronic housing needs of Boston and surrounds. One of the problems with housing in older, built-out, and densely populated areas is that there's not a lot of open ground to build on. Thos of us in old-timey cities need to forget about the notion of single-familyl homes (or duplexes) as the ideal and grab that available space and build up. 

"My" shelter - Saint Francis House - has been involved in creating affordable housing for years, and is now in the process of welcoming folks into 100+ spiffy new apartments. Studios, 1BR, 2BR - they're going to some who have been homeless and to others who just need a place to live. There will here will be support services on site to help those making the transition from homeless to homed. And nice communal space I got a tour the other day, and the apartments are terrific. And so much in demand!

But I'm hopeful that where there's room to build, in places like Cairo, 3D will turn out to be a boon for housing. Decent, reliable housing that's cost-effective to build. 

The Cairo project didn't work out, but here's hoping. 

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Image Source: Crafts and Art on You Tube

Shut this startup down!

The last thing in the world I would consider doing is renting my home out as an Airbnb, VRBO, or Home Away. Even if I had a spare place to spare for transient, paying guests, I wouldn't want to be a landlord.

I'm saying this even though I've always enjoyed my short term rentals, which go back to the pre-Airbnb days, when we were finding apartments in Paris and Rome through the classified ads in Harvard Magazine. It just wouldn't be for me.

I don't want anyone nosing around my stuff. Criticizing my taste. Thumbing through my books. Swiping that cute little lemon bowl that cost four bucks at Home Goods. Trying to pry their way into the locked owners closet in an unobvious way. (Of these things, I am guilty of nosing, criticizing, and thumbing, but never of swiping or prying.)

The most interesting things I've come across were in a short term rental on the East Side of NYC. The apartment was owned by an heir to the W.R. Grace fortune. The fortune had petered out over the generations, but this particular scion had inherited a very nice small Degas ballerina painting, which they didn't bother to lock away.

Weirdly, in the same apartment, I went to put my clothes away in the dresser in the bedroom, only to find that the drawers were stuffed with the owner's clothing, or, rather, his wife's. (There was no indication that the dresser was off limits. In every other place I've stayed, there have been drawers that are empty and available.) Anyway, the drawer I opened was stuffed - and I do mean stuffed - with every color imaginable of thongs. Ewwwww. Needless to say, my clothing stayed in my suitcase for the duration.

So while I stay in them on occasion, I don't like what these short term rentals have become. And that's a big business in which some owners have multiple places that they use for transients because they can make more money than they could renting to permanent residents. In many cities, they take scarce apartments off the market for "real people," making it harder for "real people" to live in their own cities. So, a pox on a lot of these short term rentals. I don't blame cities (like NYC) where Airbnb is heavily regulated, limiting the number of days a home may be rented, limiting occupancy, limiting the type of place you can rent (e.g., must be your primary resident - not a secondary home or vacation property).

Anyway, however he does it, Sean Donovan runs an Airbnb in San Francisco (a city that does have significant regulations on Airbnb rentals, even if it's the city where Airbnb was founded and is headquartered).

He thought he was renting to a group of colleagues who needed a place to stay while on business in SF. But things were a bit mysterious from the jump. Donovan's doorbell camera captured the renters moving in large black cases. Then the security system was turned off.

Two days later, Donovan stopped by the house to take out the trash. He looked through a window and saw black cables taped to the walls. A man was typing on a laptop sitting next to what appeared to be a robot.

When his guests checked out 11 days later, the house was a mess, Donovan claims. Glasses and dishes had been removed from kitchen cabinets and left elsewhere. The dishwasher, refrigerator, and washing machine were scratched. Dishwasher racks were bent and removed. Wooden furniture was scratched and stained. Bathroom tiles were chipped. A shoe rack and several pairs of shoes were missing from a locked bedroom closet.

"What the hell is going on here?” Donovan recalled thinking. (Source: SF Standard)

What the hell, indeed.  

After a bit of detective work, Donovan was pretty sure he had solved the mystery. The renters were, indeed, colleagues. But they worked for the Bot Company, a San Francisco robotics outfit headquartered, oddly enough, on the same street as Airbnb. 

The group had, Donovan alleges, taken the place "under false pretenses." They weren't using it as their bed and breakfast They were using it to "conduct prototype testing on robots they’re training to do household chores." So Donovan's suing them for the relatively modest amount of $12,383.50, which he figures will cover the damages and lost income he would have received if the renters had been honest about wanting to use his place for commercial activity.

“The dishonesty is really what upsets me the most,” he said. “If they had come straight up, ‘Hey, we would like to rent your house for testing of our robot,’ then we could have come to an agreement. But it’s the lying and the misrepresentation that makes me feel violated.”

He's apparently not the only Airbnb host to be violated. 

...at least 12 other Airbnb hosts alleging they damaged the property and personal belongings, failed to clean up, exceeded the limit on the number of guests, or violated other house rules during their stays.

But, but, but, the Bot people are geniuses, above and beyond the rest of us.  

Our team comes from Tesla, Cruise, OpenAI, Google, Pixar, and many other great companies. (Source: bot.co)

They wouldn't even have had to mention that they come from Tesla and other genius hangouts. Just using the .co extension tells us that they're special. They're the cool kids. Using .com as your extension? How pedestrian. How boring. How yesterday. (Okay, they couldn't have used bot.com if they'd wanted to, as it's already taken by a Canadian board of trade.  Still...) 

And it goes without saying, they're a VC darling (and are currently valued at $2B).

We are backed by Greenoaks, NFDG, Spark, Eclipse, Kleiner Perkins, Y Combinator, and many others who share our belief that robots belong in our everyday lives.

And even if the investors really don't give a hoot if robots belong in our everyday lives, at least they're all hoping that bot.co is a unicorn that will make them all richy rich richer. (Who wants to be a millionaire billionaire trillionaire?)

But for now, the geniuses (or genius-adjacent workers) trashing these short terms rentals sure look to me like a bunch of entitled, ahole, feckless, slobs.

There is no danger, of course, of this startup getting shut down. But geez Louise, pick up after your robots, why don't you? Maybe you can find a better robot - or better yet - an actual human to take care of it for you.

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Image Source: Popular Mechanics

A note on Popular Mechanics. This magazine was founded and, until the early 1960s, was headquartered in Chicago. It's now located in NY. During the 1940s, my mother worked there as an admin/assistant editor.  In January 1945, she met my father - who was in the Navy, stationed in downtown Chicago and working out of Navy Pier - on a blind date and they hit it off. They were married in November of that year and moved to my father's home town, Worcester, Massachusetts. So she was something of an intra-country war bride. Anyway, I did get a kick out of finding an image on her magazine's website.