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Every morning, I make coffee. I use a blade chopper to chop the beans into something vaguely resembling a coarse drip grind and then prepare it in a french press. Some days I make decaf, some days I make the real stuff. I'm learning to live with my addiction without letting it rule me, and we seem to have reached a compromise.

I like very oily beans, so after tapping out what I can from the chopper into the press, I'll reach in with one finger and scoop out the dusty residue that collects along the stainless steel sides of the chopper bowl. Every time I do this, I'm habituated to pulling the electrical cord out of the wall, lest the chopper mysteriously start up on its own and injure me.

Every time I do this, I have a flashback to the scene in Doom 3 where you find a recording from some poor sap, reporting on how a machine grabbed someone else on his team and started mangling the victim's arm, and kept doing so even after they unplugged the machine (spooky!).

I don't know why that serves as my PSA. After all, his machine kept working without power. But it is what reminds me to unplug dangerous machinery before sticking my hand into the works.
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Elf Sternberg

December 2025

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