Clear!

You know, I haven't been to Amazon.com in a while. I guess I haven't particularly been on the lookout for anything, and Lord knows (as do my buddies) I haven't updated my wish list in months.

But fortune (and one of my buddies) smiled upon me, and for my birthday I received a gift certificate from, yes, Amazon. And today I thought I'd go to Amazon and browse around a little. However, something happened that kept the browsing to a minimum. Well, less than a minimum. In fact, it kept it to a decided non-browse.

Amazon, being one of those corporations that not only revels in the computer age but is the computer age, is also one of those corporations that, upon their main webpage, like to give me "suggestions" of things I might want to order from them. They do it in emails too, I get emails from Amazon all the time telling me what new CD has been released that's just going to change my life, but they do it on their website as well.

Sometimes it's funny. Currently Amazon thinks I should be pee-my-pants excited about the new Prince album, an album by someone called the Yeah Yeah Yeahs (good name, I'll admit), and something by Diana Krall (maybe they're aware I love her husband). Amazon has also, over the years, thought of me as quite the Leonardo DiCaprio fan, and that I must love that girl from the Food Network's "Semi-Homemade," Sandra Lee. (I detest Sandra Lee.)

Amazon also, of course, has my little Gold Box, as do they have yours as well, full of 10 items they've hand-picked for me that are apparently major, major deals on stuff I need in my daily life. I feel about the Gold Box like I feel about Starbucks Coffee. There's only one flavor. Just as, at Starbucks, Kenya is Gold Coast is Christmas Blend is Light Blend is Yukon, the Amazon Gold Box's suggestions for items guaranteed to make my life a big steaming bowl of happiness are probably everyone else in the world's suggestions for a steaming happy life. This is the only explanation I have for the fact that my Gold Box contains items like a $1200 espresso maker, $250 kitchen knives, and a string of pearls for somewhere around $500. Does anyone else have these? And razors. Boy, does Amazon think I'd like a razor. I hate razors.

But today was the day I began telling you about way up there at the top of the screen. Today was the day I saw something when I opened up my Amazon.com page that took all the browsing off the table for me. When I opened up Amazon, here is what it was telling me I needed. Wanted. Couldn't live without.

In case you didn't want to follow the link, the entire page was filled with this item Amazon wanted me to have. "Welcome, Elizabeth! Here's an item we're sure you want!" It's a home heart defibrillator set.

Now, there are two ways I can go at this. The first is, of course, the "why." Does Amazon know I just celebrated my 46th birthday, I still haven't given up my flirtation with smoking, and that I've gone into a phase of exercising almost daily? If so, they did a good job of brainstorming. For just turning 46 is in fact a perfect time to start thinking about a home defibrillator set. It made me think. In fact, it made me think enough to actually read all about the home defibrillator set.

And that's the second thing. This home defibrillator set is something else.

First of all, the home defibrillator is almost $1250. And although my buddy was exceedingly generous in thinking of me on my birthday and giving me a gift certificate, well, you know. However, for my almost $1250 I do get a nice set of defibrillator pads (a $69 value) for free. Well, why didn't you say so! It also boasts the feature of only delivering an electrical shock "if needed." Does that mean if I think I'm having a heart attack and I put this baby onto my chest, shout, "Clear!" and have at it only to get a fizzle of nothing, that I should go back and sit down in the Comfy Chair? "Whew. I thought I was a goner there for a minute."

But there's a problem. You see, the description of item also says clearly it is not for use on oneself. Which, for a person living alone, is a bit of a downer. *knock knock* "Um, excuse me, sir, I know you moved in a month ago and I've never introduced myself, but I seem to be having something of a heart attack and I was wondering.... Yes, sorry, I am taking off my shirt and bra, but it says I can't be wearing clothes while I'm defibbed, and, OK, I know you're grossed out, but just try to look the other way. And be sure to yell 'Clear!' just to make it fun."

And if I live alone, as Amazon surely knows I do, why else would they think I need Leonardo DiCaprio videos, why would I need this item I cannot use upon myself? So am I supposed to spend almost $1250 to have it sit there in a corner? Or am I supposed to spend almost $1250 so I can use it on other people? I find it hard to believe Amazon.com doesn't know that I can't beg people to come and visit me at the Poderosa, that my guestbook is practically devoid of signatures, and those few who have visited me seem to have quite healthy hearts. Does Amazon want me to take my new defibrillator around wherever I go, ready to jolt someone back into consciousness at a moment's notice? Is this the purpose for the last half of my life? I mean, I guess I could take it along with me when the Community Band plays those retirement homes, the saxophone section alone could cause a massive heart attack epidemic, but really, those places have to have their own fancy defibrillators, don't they?

And here's the little tidbit that really intrigued me. For my almost $1250, here's what I get: the defibrillator itself. A red (red says "Emergency!") carrying case, and a 911/EMS card. Why exactly do I need a 911/EMS card if I've got my own defibrillator? I'm cutting out the middleman, I don't want his card! A battery that lasts 4 years. "Please: if you cannot remember to buy batteries as needed, try to have your heart attack before 3 years, 11 months." And a training video. Does it tell me how to get someone to my house to use this thing on me? Maybe I should have an "I'm going to have a heart attack" party and invite everyone I know to come watch how to jolt me back to life.

But my favorite of all? After I've spent my almost $1250, and gotten all those things, plus the free pads and carrying case, I also get enrolled in a program that will give me, amongst other things, "post-use counseling." Now - is this counseling after I've used it on someone, or after someone's used it on me? And more importantly, do I get the post-use counseling if I try and use it on myself, because I fear that's when I'd need counseling the most.

So the question begs - do I go ahead and fritter away my gift certificate on something fun and useless, like CDs or movies, or do I bank it and keep saving up for the home defibrillator? It's a tough choice.

I think I'll go ahead and fritter. Having a friend like Mr M, I have a feeling a home defibrillator isn't something I want close at hand. All it would take is the first argument, wrong note on the clarinet, or boring movie rent, and I fear I'll be shocked into submission, to the point where I probably won't see age 47.

I'm thinking of putting it on my wish list, though. Just for kicks.

Betland's Olympic Update:
* Acrowinners, we have acrowinners. So tell me about your Winter Olympics experience.
- Honorable Mention goes to Michelle with her, "Beautiful stamps!" OK, it's not an acro, it's not about the Winter Olympics, but no one else saw fit to enter, so Michelle, Honorable Mention's all yours.
- Runner-up goes to LilyG, with her, "Watched E! -- Better in revealing drugged groupies." Yep, that sounds way better than the biathalon.
- And this week's winner goes to Kellie, with her, "When Erica Broomed, Ivanna's Rock Did Go." You're sneaky, Kel. A curling entry. And it rocked.
- Thanks to all who played! And Michelle!
* OK, stamp time. Here are two clouds. One's a happy little cloud. One's an unhappy little cloud.