Alright, let’s talk about the humble pen. You know, the thing that used to cost a quarter and worked perfectly fine for signing checks and writing “DO NOT EAT” on your lunch in the break room fridge. It’s a tube of ink with a ball on the end. It’s not rocket science. But some marketing genius in a boardroom decided that wasn’t good enough. Now, you’ve got pens that look like they were forged by elves in a titanium volcano, with a “military-grade tactical grip” for “precision control.” Buddy, you’re circling a coupon for a frozen pizza, not defusing a bomb. They’ll charge you fifty bucks for a pen that boasts it can write upside-down in a vacuum. Fantastic. The last time I checked, my kitchen counter wasn’t in outer space. It’s all just a fancy shell for the same 10-cent ink cartridge inside, but now it comes in a box with a velvet pillow so you can feel fancy while you lose it in a week.
And don’t even get me started on cars. Remember when a car was a box with wheels that got you from A to B without your knees in your chest? Now, it’s like rolling around in a spaceship designed by a tech bro with a caffeine problem. I don’t need my cup holder to tell me the temperature of my coffee or give it a Swedish massage. I just need it to hold my coffee! The dashboard used to have knobs. Beautiful, simple knobs you could turn without looking. Now it’s a fingerprint-magnet iPad that requires you to go through three sub-menus and agree to terms of service just to turn down the fan. “Enable voice command to adjust climate control?” No, I want to adjust the A/C, not have a frustrating argument with the glove box.
The real kicker? They’ve got people paying subscriptions for features that are already built into the dang car! That’s like buying a toaster and then getting a monthly bill for the “Dark Crust” setting. The hardware for the remote start is right there, sleeping in the driveway, but it won’t work unless people cough up $15 a month. It’s a brilliant, evil scheme. They’ve turned your car into a video game where you have to pay for the downloadable content to use your own brakes. So now, for the low, low price of a kidney, you can own a “smart” car that’s smarter than you, packed with junk you didn’t ask for, all to solve a problem that never existed in the first place.
And here’s the kicker—this is why an American car company that just focused on the “simple y confiable” (simple and reliable) philosophy would absolutely clean up in our markets. Forget the touchscreen that needs a software update to change the radio station. Imagine a truck—let’s call it “El Sencillo”—with a metal dashboard, actual knobs, an engine you can actually work on without a computer science degree, and zero monthly subscriptions for your heated seats. Our abuelos would approve. It would be the automotive version of a good cast-iron skillet: no fancy non-stick coatings that peel off, just something durable that works perfectly for generations and gets the job done without all the drama. People are tired of the nonsense; they just want a car that starts, doesn’t break, and doesn’t treat them like a walking wallet. The company that figures that out isn’t just selling a car, they’re selling peace of mind, and that’s a product you can’t put a price tag on.
