The personal GPS system my uncle gave me is one of the nifty ones where I could even go online and choose a new accent for it. After plugging it in for the first time, I knew I had to, and I held hope against hope that someone over the Intertubes came to the same conclusion as I:

Wouldn’t it be great if these things didn’t pretend they spoke anything but broken English?

Someone had already thought of this. Lo and behold, what for I found the perfect voice for my personal GPS device. For whenever I get to where I’m going, now I hear, in a thick, eurotrash accent:

Oh! Here we are, at destination. You drive like you are drinking fermented horse urine, very nice. High five.

Very nice, indeed. Next up: Stephen Hawking.

Postscript: Suddenly, I feel like a little piece of my soul died. It’s almost as if I had wrote:

Gone are the days of stilted telemenu voices, friends. Let us put new use to and make much light of English learners and the disabled.

It’s like I’m Jerry Lewis.

Maybe I’ll go back to the default voice. It, at least, doesn’t damage me morally.




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