B(U)Y(E) AMERICAN
or A ROOMBA REVIEW
I remember when Roombas first came out.
To all of you “don’t call it googling/a bandaid” people, you are going to hate this article. I love you, and I’m sorry.
The concept of a robot vacuum seems really obvious when you think about it. What easier-to-automate chore is there in a modern household? You walk around, run the thing over the floor a bunch, and boom, now you have to pull three pounds of hair out of the roller again.
The joy of a robot vacuum is you pull three pounds of hair out of the roller again, but it’s also a robot and holy shit that is cool.
Facetious is my brand, and I wink at the fifth wall.
I add these breaks to make my shit easier to read, and to also provide logical points for you to stop and consider what you’ve read so far. As a “faggot fucktard” (I believe we now call these ‘People of Reading’) I aim to fix the things that irk me as I read. I would not need do this were the rest of you doing your jobs.
Alas.
There was a time when I was a patriot. Not in the simple and wholesome way of our boomer forebears, nor in the complex and homosexual way of our zoomer charges, but in the Bud Light and George Dubya Bush Gonna Fuck Them Hadjis Up Brother way most southerners are.
The American Flag, flying side by side with the Texas flag, as God intended.
Though it may beggar the mind, Your Humble Author was indeed once young.
My first Roomba I bought from Fry’s Electronics. Some of you know the Mecca of which I speak, some of you are either children or (may samsara forgive me) normies, and are picturing something like Best Buy.
This is like a virgin picturing sex to be as enjoyable as really good ice cream, and while it isn’t wrong, it also isn’t a useful perspectve.
Fry’s Electronics was on average 2+ acres of everything related to nerds and electronics.
Wanted to buy a drone in 2009, and enough carbonated caffeine to literally kill you? Head over to Fry’s, and you better let your fellow nerds know, because while Fry’s Electronics could be a quick in and out trip, who the fuck can walk past a clearance box of CAT5e at $50 for 1000ft and not skip a meal or two to make it work?
A literal clearing of nothing but gaming chairs long before twitch.tv was getting the dicks of children hard.
An entire aisle of mechanical keyboards.
An entire aisle of RJ45 crimpers and accessories. You don’t need a $200 cable crimper, but man would it be useful. The fucking $20 ones always fucking break.
I have distinct memories of spending entire weekend afternoons in this store with my friend group in school. We never spoke about it, much like we never commented on how good sugar tasted, we just knew that these were the good things in life.
It hurts sometimes, to know that there’s no way to know you’re in the good old days while they’re happening (yes, I am ripping off The Office here, may god forgive me), but even with that said, on some level we knew.
Teenagers with car keys and money from our part time jobs and parents, and an entire weekend where the world was ours.
In hindsight, coming of age in the late 00s really was patrician.
In either 2018 or 2019, I decided I wanted a Roomba.
I am prone to fits of whimsy like this, but they’re also padding overlaying a tungsten girder.
I was tired of fucking vacuuming my goddamn house, and it was absurd to me that years after The Future in Back to the Future II, I was still pushing around the grumbling suck-stick like some kind of goddamn fucking third world peasant.
No offense to the hobosexuals or differently-moneyed, of course, all incomes are valid.
I am not wealthy, I am not even middle class, I am just the anti-new-rich: I am Old Poor.
I come from a long proud line of alcoholics, addicts, morons, imbeciles, jackasses and literal third world peasants.
My lineage is complex and storied, but, alas, and all together now, that is a story for another time.
The point is, I have seen most of the failure modes involving ‘Humans’ and ‘Money’. I have no idea how to do these things well, but I say with Authority how to definitely do them wrong.
The difference is subtle, but in it lies entire worlds.
The point is, I am willing to spend money on things that will save me time or effort and not much else. I do not value appearances, I have trouble even understanding the mindset. Recently I’ve realized that this is why my friends with money treat me as the sort of person you make a point to introduce to other people you know.
Ay this my nigga the author and they cool, they gonna say some shit but real they cool
Imagine being the kind of dipshit that just doesn’t notice that. As they say,
> be me
In 2018 or 2019, I forget honestly, I decided I wanted a roomba. I did some cursory review of the subject, found out that yes, the lil niggas did have a camera, yes, it was networked and yes the corpo retains ALL control and you can’t even see what the camera you own that drives around your house sees BUT the corpo can see it BUT you’re supposed to believe they’re cool.
Fucked, right? I have dogs, I was that over vacuuming. NEETs may not engage in discussion on this point, fellow wagies may bully me as they see fit. You nasty fucks that just live in that shit, oh god, dude, what the fuck please man like, please.
So I did more research. In the dark deep past before times, these lil fuckers (Roombas) used VSLAM, and weren’t using true vision (like what modern shit like Frigate NVR uses. I run Frigate personally and while it’s autistic and awkward, it does fuck, and does use local AI as claimed. for all you uneducated fools poncing about as if ignorance won’t get you killed, these things are isolated visual fucking cortexes running on hardware that would fit in a wallet. I’m not shitting you.)
-and were thus at least theoretically tolerable to having roaming around.
If you can jack off to a 32x32 bit picture of my ass, shine on you crazy diamond (yes, yes, I know, it’s a joke, join the goddamn computer nerds in the no talking corner please).
So, it’s called we do a little “buy a roomba 960” googling, it’s called absolute purchasecel fuckin’ shopmaxxing.
Holy shit Fry’s Electronics still exists. Holy shit they have one in stock! And it’s open box so it’s cheaper! WE ARE SO BACK!
Fuckin’ off work, sober enough to drive, grab my keys, pat the dogs, booyeah 30 minute drive here we go baby. I’m excited, but not entirely consciously. This place rules and it’s got so many memories.
It’s been over a decade but some part of me almost wants to text people I used to know.
Long ass drive by freeway to a part of the city I don’t usually organically go to. Dealerships, HOV lanes, all the ‘higher end’ chain restaraunts that are probably still owned by Darden Foods or whoever the fuck.
I pull in to the same parking lot, same building, same sign. I am smiling, but I don’t entirely realize it, and it’s small.
I walk through the doors, and the dream comes apart.
The warehouse you could fit a regulation football field inside is now bereft of shelves, things, empty. Now it feels its size. Whale bones.
Immediately to my right is customer service, and it’s in an alcove, so I won’t have to look upon the corpse I used to know.
I spot a nerdy white guy in a suit, and I scoot in a straight line.
“Hey, uh, I saw online you guys have an open box roomba 960 and it made sense to ask you first since it might not be on the floor?” I have done enough time in customer service that I know exactly what to say to break through most standard work autopilots and engage the person’s mind so we can work together to get me the fuck out of there after parting with my money. I am ever a pro-social person.
“Sure, do you have more info?” He asks, and I hand over my unlocked phone. At that point I was years in to quitting porn and I’m that person so the most risque thing I’m gonna get is “bitch where are you” or “nigger where are you” depending on who’s texting me. Many of the people that call me a nigger are black or brown, and I am visibly some kind of not white, though what varies burger to burger, and on how much sun I’ve gotten.
He types like someone who can hit multi-hundred WPM speeds, and he takes seconds to flip through his computer system.
“Yeah, it’s in stock, lemme go get it.” He saunters off, and saunter is the right word. He’s being nice to me but is radiating “I do not fucking care” while being maximally polite. Those of you who know the IRL know this vibe, those of you who don’t, I don’t know how to explain it except to say that it generates an animal level response of “I should not fuck with this person” in near everyone.
He came back with the roomba, we made small talk. I inquired as to ‘what if it was fucked’, he told me to just return it regardless if it’s at all fucky and get a full refund, not a gift card. I must’ve been visibly shocked, because that’s when he turned to me and told me the news.
“This place is closing, I’m taking my retirement and who fucking gives a shit, here, I’m gonna discount it more.” I paraphrase several exchanges I cannot quite remember. I remember his face working to not look sad.
He was a normal enough dude that struck me as an actual nerd, someone I could’ve argued about processor architectures with under different circumstances.
Alas, meat selling meat electronics was obsolete. I’m pretty sure it was 2018.
The roomba’s battery was fucked, I returned it. For cash.
Last time I’d ever set foot in Fry’s Electronics.
I was hellbent on the 960.
As all wise people making good choices do, I turned to craigslist.
I do not mean any of the following to be derogatory, as this individual sold me a working roomba 960 that was in good condition, and are thus somebody I would casually ally with in a post-apocalyptic scenario if we encountered each other by chance. Not full trust, but more than I would give a cold stranger.
That said.
She ducked to walk in the door to a standard Starbuck’s.
I do not know how to explain her height differently. She was built such that I would have certainly lost a physical confrontation just because force equals mass times acceleration.
I was so, so so so glad I had picked such a public and well lit and busy place. I was also glad I was armed. God bless Texas.
She wasn’t fat, she was just gigantic.
“Do you want to plug it in and test it?” She asked me, guileless as the day she was born.
Behind her, a man is picking up coffee while more stand in line. There are outlets on the walls, we could do this, and it would be fucking hilarious, but, but, it is after dark on a winter night, it is the weekend and I am still sober, and, oh my god the amount of talking to people would just be too much. Plus, it would be goddamn retarded.
“C’mon, if you can’t trust strangers off craigslist who can you trust?” She laughs, and I swear to god this really happened, and nobody else did or even noticed. We were in that bubble of public isolation you get in large cities, I could’ve waved a gun in the air and would’ve had to fire a shot or two to actually get attention. It’s Texas, so if I did that I’d probably get shot (as god intended).
I thank her profusely, her me, we both feel like we got the better end of the deal and as usual actual capitalism is pretty based.
I spend the next few miles glancing at my mirrors casually to spot tails.
You never lose some habits.
I ponder that maybe the crazy nephilim people have some points, corroborated by my own lying eyes.
How the fuck was she that big.
The roomba works, and is grand. It is surprisingly capable of navigating, and will actually slow down and gently slam in to your leg.
My dogs are at first uncertain, but after I name and pet it, they provisionally accept it. It is nowhere near as loud as the one I have to drag around, so they and I are far less annoyed by it.
I have to manually empty the little fucker, and it’s dense and even with the app all it does is the whole house or nothing.
I still use the big boy occasionally for the big suck.
Years pass.
I am now renting a house with hard floors.
Buying? In this economy? In my generation? Oh honey bless your heart!
I have a moneyed person in my life who has the fanciest american roomba. It vacuums and nothing else, and is apparently mid as fuck.
I mop my new floors somewhere between the second and third time and go “nope”.
I had mopped the patches of hard floor in the old house, but it was a quaint adventure and honestly a rag and some good cleaner and elbow grease did plenty fine, because it was just some foyer type shit, y’know?
Nah, fuck actual mopping.
To THE GOOGLE, we go!
roomba that mops
open source roomba
can i fuck a roomba?
how to not get hurt while fucking a roomba
I find Valetudo.
Devs clearly have no time for my or anyone’s bullshit, so I RTFM (Read The Fucking Manual).
Time passes, I install Valetudo. I drop my new chinese roomba, breaking part of it. I can just fucking buy the mainboard as a part. I can buy any part of my new chinese roomba. I can SSH in to my roomba.
Life is good.
In a rare defiance of form, I will note here that the developers of Valetudo have no fucking idea I’m writing this, or who I am. They don’t endorse or condone me, though I do endorse and condone them. Their project is great, leave them the fuck alone you are not entitled to their time or effort. Respectful people should still also not waste their time.
My chinese roomba can be taken apart with a phillips screwdriver and patience.
My chinese roomba vacuums and mops and does so intelligently.
My chinese roomba washes its mop pads dilligently and has clean and dirty water tanks.
Oh my god the shit this thing pulls off the floor. Living creatures are nasty.
It’s so goddamn smart it cleans around stuff that falls on the floor.
My small dog figured out he can corner it if he just patiently walks directly at it, I’ve had to shoo him away from it.
Chinese hardware is rootable (this is why the software is so good, it is NOT the stock hardware), DIY fixable and has a mountain of parts bumper to bumper.
The american shit uses hardware security modules on par with modern phones to make sure you do not have control over the camera driving around your house.
The chinese try to do this, but they’re willing to accept a pareto distribution, and make their money on replacement parts. They don’t move heaven and earth to make sure you don’t have root access on your own fucking vacuum cleaner, just the earth.
Increasingly I am told ask not what America does for me, but instead, what I can do for America.
"There was a time when I was a patriot. Not in the simple and wholesome way of our boomer forebears, nor in the complex and homosexual way of our zoomer charges, but in the Bud Light and George Dubya Bush Gonna Fuck Them Hadjis Up Brother way most southerners are.
The American Flag, flying side by side with the Texas flag, as God intended."
It is impossible to read this and not read to the end.
Hey I saw you liked my note, so naturally I followed the trail to your publication, and I really like your writing. I had a Roomba once. It's a cleaner yes, but it also doubled up as a pet I didn't have to feed. It bumped around my apartment like a drunk uncle at a wedding, occasionally gnawing at furniture legs. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. What you’ve written isn’t just about vacuums - it’s about finding small joys, even if they sometimes roll right past you. PS great writing!