The Antique Mystique

It's the Weekend Gene Pool. You know the drill.

Erado’s clock-wound dentist’s drill, circa 1866

My new dentist’s office is no larger than the basement of a modest two-story house. That it is because it is the basement of a modest two-story house. It is on residential street in Washington D.C. The “dentist” sign is on a pole in the front lawn. Reminds me of life in simpler times, when men wore fedoras and ladies shellacked their updos and dentists gave kids big ‘ol lollipops as incentives not to cry.

On the internet, the office has a grandiose official name, something like “The Northeast Washington Dental Consortium,” but it is actually one guy and three chairs. The chairs are in the same room, and you have to walk past one to get to the other, like in a barber shop. There are no sinks. You spit into a small funnel that is connected to a suction tube, and is held under your chin by a dental aide.

In my initial appointment the other day, the doctor just deep-cleaned my teeth, which he did skillfully. In fact, what he did instantly solved a problem I was having, as he had improbably predicted it would. This is a no-frills operation. I assume he attacks cavities with a hammer and chisel, and numbs you with a blackjack upside the head. I’ll find out soon enough.

After 60 years of dentistry, I have finally found a guy I really like. He doesn’t charge a lot. He serves the inner city. He doesn’t try to upsell you. He fixes your problems.

Mostly, he appeals to my deep-rooted sense that, in matters of art, artistry, design and the functional genius of machinery and simplicity, ancient things were better. I shave with a straight razor, using beef tallow for cream. The youngest clock in my house was manufactured in October 1951 … as I was. I think furniture made in 1910 is far more beautiful and sturdier and more utile than the crap made today. And so forth.

That is your Weekend Gene Pool challenge for today: Tell us about ways in which you do, buy, have or use outdated things or services — technology or otherwise. Make it funny and/or poignant. Make it celebratory or critical: Feel free to tell me how I have my head up my arse on this subject.

Send ‘em here.

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Here is, perhaps, the most deliberately misleading advertisement of all time. It is a watch for sale on eBay, sold as Antique WWII Era Military Officer's Omega GMT Wristwatch -c.1940 - 43mm- Working.

All of that is true. And this watch, made by Omega, is extremely well made. It is probably worth what they are asking, which is $3,477. So, what’s the problem?

Please note what they do NOT tell you overtly, anywhere in the ad.

Thank you for your attention to this matter.

—

(see answer at the bottom of the column.)

Good. Today’s mailbag:

Q: Regarding unforgettable anecdotes: About a year ago, I was in Colombia in the airport in Medellin getting ready to fly to Cartagena. Standing across from the gate against the wall of of the passageway where travelers were going to and from the various gates. I noticed that my shoe was untied, but since I was burdened with my heavy backpack, I was unable to bend over so, I stuck my foot up on the wall and as I leaned toward the shoe to try to tie the shoe, a Colombian woman stopped as she was walking by and tied my shoe very quickly and giving it a final tug, looked at me, smiled and laughed and went on her way. I will cherish this moment forever.

A: Beautiful. Elegant.

—

Q: How do we deal with the reality that AI just hallucinates made-up facts about people, especially people for whom there's not a lot known? ChatGPT claims my dad was born in 1988, but correctly notes he was married to my mom for 35 years as of last December, which would mean they got married when he was two. And it thinks he's a Freemason, which he most certainly is not.

Sooner or later, AI is going to make up serious accusations against someone using it for a background check on someone, and they're going to suffer consequences for something they didn't actually do and were never accused of doing, and there's going to be a whole lawsuit which they'll lose because AI isn't a person and can't be sued for libel or slander.

We really need a legal framework to deal with this new reality.

A: AI frequently tells me that I am dead.

—

Q: Regarding initially misunderstood situations: I was working in Bangladesh on a forest-related project, talking casually with a senior government forest officer. Bangladesh has some of the world’s remaining wild Bengal tigers, and the forest officer was among the government officials charged with their conservation.

“You know,” he says to me, “The day will come when, if we want to see a tiger, we will have to go to the Jews.”

“Oh?” I said.

“Yes, they have many and they want more. They’re breeding them!”

It’s at this point that I remembered that Bengali speakers sometimes mix up J and Z.

-- Ken Rosenbaum

A: Thank you.

—

Q: Around 1992, driving though central Indiana to meet a friend at a state park to picnic with our young children, I was singing along to the kids' Raffi tape a little too carelessly and slightly exceeded the speed limit. I already was decelerating when I spotted flashing red lights behind me. I pulled over and (as I'd read recommended, though it isn't now), exited the minivan and stood by it trying to appear harmless. Oddly, the police car well behind me on the interstate shoulder had another car stopped behind it. Had a cop pulled over two drivers at once?

The Indiana trooper exited his vehicle, walked back to the second car, conferred with the driver, then turned and yelled back to me, gesticulating animatedly. I couldn't make out his words over the highway noise, but took his gestures to mean that the second driver, not I, was his actual target, and thus I was free to resume travel. So I did.

Within seconds those flashing lights were in my rearview mirror again. Woops. Again I stopped and stood by my van, shrinking to look as small and nonthreatening as possible. As the trooper stomped angrily toward me, I'd never seen anyone look more like a cartoon character blasting clouds of steam out his ears. I abjectly apologized, almost crouching, and explained that I had thought he'd waved me on and I was complying. My little kids and I are on our way to a picnic, sir, not looking to start trouble. I'm sorry, sorry, sorry I misunderstood you!

I've never watched someone make such a visible, strenuous effort of will to grab hold of his raging temper and wrestle it down! I remember the scene almost as a Looney Toons cartoon, with a thermometer's red mercury line stopping its climb and descending into the bulb in the nick of time. But to his credit, the honorable trooper did self-compose and sent us on our way with the obligatory warning. That was a great demonstration of the power of appeasement through body language.

— Nancy Meyer

A: I once saw a man, in a bar, start to punch another man, and at the last minute, through an act of incredible will, diverted his fist. You could see it happen, see that it was a deliberae, split second decision. It hit a wall and dented it. No followup fisticuffs ensued. You could see both guys had been defused.

We’ll end here.

—

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answer:

The ad did not point out that this was a Nazi officer’s watch. “Gott mit uns,” means “God is with us.” And that’s the Nazi Iron Cross on the dial.