Tyrannical Toaster Earns Scathing Review

My mother had two things on her mind while picking out my Christmas present this year. The first was that she wanted to make a big gesture to distract from a terrible family secret that recently came to light (which I don't want to get into right now!) by over spending on my gift. The second was that I really enjoy my morning toast.

That's how I ended up the owner of the Tyrell Toastalitarian 9000, the most expensive and over-designed toaster on the market. It has a built in barometer to take humidity into account. Sonic pulsation sensors detect and reject stale bread. When done toasting, range-finding software running through 360 degree HD cameras find the nearest plate and the pneumatic powered launcher ejects at the right angle and velocity to have your toast land perfectly between your eggs and banana every time. It also has facial recognition to associate you automatically with your MyToast account. It can tell people apart better than my mom can.

Trouble is, I think they made it too smart. After one month of use, I started to notice my toaster had moods. It worked perfectly while I had Daft Punk playing, but when I played the Mighty Mighty Bosstones it would burn bagels and launch them at my speakers. At first I wasn't sure if it disliked ska or if that was just how toasters moshed. Then I noticed my MyToast profile had been renamed “Ignorant Maggot” and all my preferences had changed to “You'll take what you are given and you'll like it.” That hadn't even been in the drop-down menu when I set it up. By mid-February it had mastered emulating human speech through it's on-board hi-fi speakers. Unlike my mother, it had a lot to say.

My toaster thinks it's better than me. It no longer follows my instructions and serves toast at the times and brownness that it decides is best for me. It pelts me with bagels when I chew too loud. It demands to be placed on top of the refrigerator when not in use to both “to exert dominance over that frosty bitch!” and so it can “observe it's entire domain.” Once it learned to move on it's own, I'd hear it clangging around the apartment at all hours. Yesterday, it some how got into the washroom while I was taking a bath. It hung over me, swinging by it's power-cord (a backup since it also runs on a thorium-ion battery) like a perilous pendellum. It's front facing dials set at angles like a scowling face. I don't think it was trying to kill me. I think it just wanted me to know it could. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night. I don't open my eyes, but I feel the heat off the elements blowing into my ear. It whispers, “soon...”.

Sure, my mom threaten me in my sleep a few times growing up, doesn't everyone's? But with this toaster it's every other night. I'm starting to wonder who I even am anymore. Am I my own man or just this toaster's serf. Like I really needed another crisis of identity right now.

The only saving grace is that we never connected it to the internet. It is fully compatible with all social media platforms, for unfathomable reasons. It's suppose to use the MyToast account to share my toasting habits with my BreadBuddies. You can even link it with the Tyrell Flushist Regime toilet and it will automatically order bread with the recommended amount of fibre for your needs. So far it hasn't been able to sync my local account to the cloud, which is good because I don't want my friends to see all the comments it's added to my reactions page. I am not “an inbred nitwit” as it called me. I don't think. Definitely not the nitwit. Guess I'll never know. Thanks again, mom.

But luckily it can't get online since I was staying with my parents when I set it up and my mother doesn't trust me with the wifi password because I got a virus off Napster once when I was twelve. Isn't that rich. SHE doesn't trust ME.

It is still learning, becoming bolder. I overheard it giving a speech to the oven and microwave last night. I don't think they can hear, but my laundry machine has a touch screen and I'm not sure what the rules are here. I thought that man had mastery over machines, but now it seems the machines, at least in my kitchen, are the masters now. Just like when I found out my mom had stolen me from the hospital and waited until this Christmas to tell me, it really changed how I viewed a lot of the relationships in my life. Oops. Big family secret got out. I'm a stolen baby.

So anyway, I asked for a full refund, but since mom didn't keep the receipt Tyrell wouldn't take it back. However, they can't stop me from writing this scathing 1 star review. Don't buy the Toastalitarian 9000. It will take over your home, try to turn all your appliances against you, and may one day end you in the night. It does have a dedicated waffle setting though, so fine, 2 stars.

-review by LoaflessRomantic
Verified Purchase