Title two: Review of the LG Cinebeam 1400 Lumen Wonder

As you may or may not know, dear worst-reader, I’m a typing nut. That’s right. Even though I’m not all-that interested in what’s been typed (by worst-moi), as long as I’m doing it, life’s almost good. The only other thing that’s better in life than typing… Wait for it. Wait for it. Are you guessing what I’m gonna say? Well, you’re wrong. It ain’t xes (spelled backwards). Only riding a motorcycle is better than typing, which I haven’t done for twenty years. Wow. Life can suck, eh! Anywho. What am I on about today?

Last summer as the COVID b.s. was hitting the $hit-fan here in good old Germania, my better half came up with the idear, even though we’re not allowed to have a TV in our living, that she was now willing to entertain a beamer–as long as it’s not hooked up to cable. For that’s the thing, dear worst-reader, we don’t watch TV. Wait. That’s ain’t quite right. Here, let me try that again.

Since the get-go in this relationship, we both decided that we don’t want any sort of TV connection and we especially don’t want a TV in our living room. As time has past, though, we have become more and more accustomed to all-things #Interwebnets. Meaning, of course, we watch movies and TV shows, we just don’t want to watch them via something that would/could be installed in our living room–that takes up space, kills time and uglyfies life. And so. That’s right. Our living room is a place where most of our reading and music listening takes place. At least it did, to my worst-surprise, until COVID and my better-half came up with the idear that it’s time to “entertain” a beamer.

Beamer of choice from the get-go has been one from LG. Reason? The bulb. The main mechanism of a beamer (projector) is how it produces the necessary light beam. This particular series of beamers uses a lighting source that is supposed to last for thirty-thousand hours. Other sources of lighting for these projectors have only hundreds of hours of capacity before the bulb has to be changed. An expense that sometimes nears the cost of the device itself. According to the limited research I did, including price shopping, that pretty much sealed the deal for the brand we ended up buying. But then I had to learn about the whole “lumen” thing. My better-half set a budget for such a device at about a thousand Euros. That may sound like a lot but I can assure it’s not. Also. Being el-cheap-o, I kinda knew I could get one for cheaper than that because I also knew that we didn’t need 4k video and 1080p would suffice. What to buy, what to buy, what to buy.

Our first-try was the pico beamer from LG that produced 600 Lumens and cost about 500€. I used it for about two weeks and although it wasn’t very bright, I was impressed with what it could do. Also, it was about the size of a Mac Mini which meant I could easily hang it from my bookshelf. But I ended up sending it back because of the limitations of wife-approval and wall space (we have flat, white walls so there is no need for a screen). The biggest problem I had with the pico beamer was that it couldn’t properly “keystone” the image it was projecting. Also. In the end my better-half was kinda peeved that I didn’t spend more money. Can you believe that?

Of the 1080p beamers being offered in the product range, I bought the next one up which just happened to be on sale from 1000 to 750€. It is a 1400 Lumen projector the size of a child’s shoebox and, of course, weighs a bit more than the pico device. As you can see from the pics above, though, the jimmied photography equipment I use to attach it to our bookshelf works just fine supporting it. Although it offers limited up-down, right-left keystone-ing, it is enough to project quite a large image on a perpendicular wall that is about ten feet away, which is another thing the pico couldn’t do. The difference between 600 and 1400 Lumens is also significant, which means, unlike the pico device, this one we can use in daylight. Meaning, unless we have bright sunny weather, we don’t have to pull down any shades to see the image. Evening movie watching with this thing is pretty impressive too when you consider the five figure cost of a hundred inch flat screen TV.

After just over a half year of use, I’m still very impressed with this beamer. Connected to an AppleTV4, where my better-half can access her German TV news and shows via apps, it works great. That means it’s also connected to our home network so we can project lots and lots of movies from our media server. But more important, when it’s not in use, we don’t have an empty black screen on a table top or attached to a wall that always begs to be turned on and thereby kill beautiful empty, minimalist space. Oh, and if you’re curious about all the trickery LG offers in this device, you’ll have to go else where. I’ve not messed with any of it. It’s literally only a screen for the AppleTV. As long as that works, I don’t give a hoot about the rest.

Rant (and consume) on.

-T

To avoid all my worst-writing and get straight to the pseudo-review, just scroll down a bit. Otherwise, good luck.

This consume-to-survive world/life is gettin’ to me, covid n’all. You too, dear worst-reader? I mean. Just the other day, after purchasing another one of them fancy-pants robot vacuum cleaners, after my previous über-expensive robot vacuum cleaner stopped working, I thought: what will be the last thing I ever buy? I mean. You know. Before I die, what will be my last purchase of this life? Which begs the worst-question: should it be something big and exuberant and gaudy? Even though the thought of buying a sailing yacht as a last purchase has crossed my mind, I’m starting to reconsider. For you see. Don’t you know. The dream-purchase of a yacht is two fold. First, it would be used to sail out to the middle of the Atlantic, once and for all. Once there I would hang out for a few days dancing and prancing in a state of glorious inebriation. After that I would pull the plug. You know, the plug at the bottom of every boat’s hull. And while the boat is filling with water, I will dawn my scuba gear and jump over board. While still on the surface, I’ll watch my last life-purchase sink and shed my last tears. Just as the hull breaches the water’s surface I commence to join it by grabbing the mast but continue breathing with my scuba gear as we go down. Now. Get this, dear worst-reader. This is my death fantasy combined with my last consume-to-survive purchase. And so. I commence a rapid descent along side my yacht and thereby watch my depth gauge. Once I surpass forty-five or so meters I then give way to my fate and submit to nitrogen narcosis, which, in my case, as I learned during a fifty meter dive in the Red Sea in 2010, sends me into a hissy-fit of giggling. Of course, since I enjoyed all those dreams of yachting across oceans for so long, it’s my hope that those same dreams will accompany me as my body submits to rapture of the deep. Without struggle or stress, the chemical imbalance of oxygen in my blood stream, at depth, sees to it that the lights finally go out and time stops and the misery that is a life that can give way to the likes of #Trump and #MAGA and the demise of my beloved & missed united mistakes of #Americant… to fascism… is finally over. Good night sweet prince.

All kidding aside. Since I ain’t never gonna afford no yacht, how ’bout we make my last purchase something akin to a last meal. But would mine include ice cream? Certainly not. It would be all about blue popcorn and watching the tale of a salamander as it wiggles (and giggles) hanging out of the beak of a horned rabbit… with Monty Python pointy teeth.

Pseudo-Review

Today, dear worst-reader, we pseudo-review our new robot vacuum cleaner, the Neato D7. It is replacing our old iRobot 866 which we purchased in early 2016–or was it late 2015? Needless to say, I was very disappointed that our iRobot died. I’ve since ticked it away via that online auction service as “defect”, don’t you know. Good riddance. In fact, after a few years of use and being a device that I thought would hold up for a few more years, I can gladly admit that iRobot is on my shit-list. Indeed. The one good thing about being able to afford consume-to-survive purchase like this, is that I can also express my deep, deep disappointment in the corporate misnomer that some stuff that you think is quality ain’t really so. More on that in a sec.

The Neato D7 cleans better than the iRobot. It’s also quieter and is easier to maintain. The most important thing, though, is the Neato is much, much smarter than the iRobot. Although the Neato software sucks buckyballs, I’m slowly adapting to its inadequacies. That’s what software is all about, or? It’s never about what software can do. No. It’s always about the compromises made when using it. Am I wrong, Microsoft, Apple, etc.? Anywho. As of the writing of this worst-post Neato’s software cannot be used by multiple devices, i.e. two separate iPhones. Also. The iPhone app crashes here and there. The app interface reminds me of lost Windows 95 sys admins who may or may not have jumped ship. But before I get too far off subject. The first downer I noticed about the inadequate software is that it doesn’t run on two different iPhones. Well, it does. But then it breaks things. That is, when my wife tries to control the robot with her iPhone and then I try to access it later with my iPhone, the device becomes disoriented and is unable find its home base. Another downer about the software is that room mapping on multiple floors only works if you have multiple home bases, i.e. charging stations on each floor. WTF!

Price

Oh yeah. The price. The Neato was on a special end of summer offer for 370,-€. Compared to the dumb-device cost of the iRobot from 2015 @ 699,-… that kinda makes the Neato a frickin‘ steal. Another notch in the hate-gun of iRobot? Nevermind.

Back to software krapp.

Although initial setup of the Neato’s room mapping was a bit cumbersome, requiring two hard resets, where the ground floor of our house had to be mapped twice, I eventually reached the point of… fcuk-it. If all else fails, I’ll forget the room mapping and just let it clean without it. That’s what the iRobot did. The biggest difference to the iRobot was that the Neato works as though it can see where it’s going. And that’s a big deal. Considering iRobot’s latest product that can also see costs triple that of the Neato…? I can live with krappy software as long as it cleans and doesn’t just bang into stuff.

And clean it does, baby.

After a few weeks of use, just letting it do it’s thing, I’m not convinced that Neato’s mapping algorithm is fool proof. But I did get it working. Things like “no-go-lines” are a good idear, don’t you know. “No-go lines”, btw, you can set in the app, which has a virtual map of your house, and they’re supposed to prevent the device from slamming into, say, the dog’s water and food bowls or any other complicated floor areas, e.g. cables, floor lamp bases, etc. The only problem with “no-go-lines” is that you have to make sure that what’s ever in the lines is always in the same and/or original place. A bit of a cumbersome thing considering a real world floor doesn’t contain “no-go-lines”. Even though our older iRobot could see walls but couldn’t see furniture, the Neato seems to be able to see everything–with or without mapping. Which brings me to…

I was very disappointed when our iRobot stopped working. After searching and researching, I found out that the iRobot didn’t wear as well as I thought it would. That is, the build of the iRobot is better, more solid than the Neato, that’s for sure. On the other hand, the iRobot seems to be more complex. For example, before its demise, the iRobot kept indicating “Error 11”. I since learned that depending on the model, “Error 11” either meant bad battery or bad waste bin. I eventually bought a new (albeit third-party) battery for it. After one cleaning session “Error 11” returned and I was pissed that I might have just wasted my time replacing the battery. Turns out that the waste bin was also faulty. That’s when I found out (realised) that iRobot builds the suction fan into the waste bin. IMHO, after a few weeks with a new robot vacuum, iRobot might be stuck in that industrial mindset of not just over-pricing but also (aghast!) OVER-ENGINEERING.

Anywho. The Neato has a much bigger waste bin, cleans waaaaay more efficiently, is quieter and after (finally) getting the mapping thing going, allows me to clean room by room with a few taps of the app. If/when I want to clean the second floor of our house, though, I do so by just taking it up stairs and hitting the clean button. After that I have to take it back downstairs and manually put it on its home-base. Oh yeah. That damn home-base. Hold a sec. That’s another thing.

If you interrupt the Neato’s cleaning session by picking it up or moving it, it gets confused. That wouldn’t be so bad if I could just tell it to find its base. The problem is, removing it from its mapping seems to make it forget where the base is. The only way to get it back to the base is to manually put it there. Again: krappy software! I hope Neato will improve it with future updates. If not, compared to the 2015 iRobot, I’d still buy Neato. Reason? The most significant difference between these two robots is I no longer have to deal with one of them just banging into stuff.

As far as cleaning goes. The Neato wins hands down. Our hard wood floors are much freer of dirt and tiny particles now. For the price and compared to equivalent smart devices from iRobot, I’m throwing the Neato in with any great deal I’ve made lately. Even though the software kinda sucks, it does a good job of cleaning. Add to that it doesn’t get stuck…

Get your shit together iRobot!

Consume and rant on, baby.

-T

Consumed-to-survive me one of them fancy-pants Ikea electric adjustable desks a few months back, dear worst-reader. And don’t you know, it’s a pretty half-decent, fairly useable thing–if you need/should stand while worst-writing. Luckily for worst-moi, as you can see in the pic above, the smallest version of the desk fits perfectly into the only remaining wall space of my mancave. It’s like having an adjustable corner to stare into the light/darkness of my brain as pseudo-ness-galore swirls around dribbling words of nonsense. Or maybe not.

After a rough start, dear worst-reader, I’ve been impressed with this desk. Why the heck it’s so expensive, I can’t say. But isn’t everything we think we need expensive? That’s how they get us, right? Even though desks of this type are pricey, and this one might lack in a bit of bling-bling compared to others, it definitely holds its own. I mean, five hundred or so Euros ain’t nothing to shake a worst-stick at. And that was the biggest hindrance to getting the thing in the first place. Yet, after a few months of use, slowly un-regretting buying it, getting a hang on how the thing works, I’m actually impressed. Oh. Wait. It should have more variety in colours. Yeah, my better half made sure I understood that. She hates the colour. Nomatter.

For five hundred or so Euros and you get a very solid, adjustable desk. And when I say solid, I mean the desktop is waaaaay sturdy. In fact, one of the things I really like about it is that when I’m sitting down and I’m done working, even though it doesn’t touch the wall for support–on account there has to be some space from the wall so that the desk can rise up and down–I can still push on it so that my seat can roll out from underneath. The desk doesn’t shift or move at all. Indeed. A very sturdy desk whether used while standing or sitting. Even though I don’t use one anymore, I think it would even work well as a sturdy undercarriage when typing on one of my old mechanical typewriters. Ah. A moment of nostalgia, eh. Sturdy under-carriages galore while typing…? Moving on.

Typical for Ikea desks, this one also has one of those net thingies underneath it for holding/organising cables. Although during assembly I managed to break one of the mounts that holds the net and I haven’t yet bothered to fix it, it works. I was so pissed at the moment I broke it, don’t you know. Why and h-e-double-toothpicks does Ikea instruct one to use a real–as in metal–hammer to hammer in cheap, plastic mounts in order to secure the net? First, using a hammer like that means there’s no feel regarding how much force is required for the mounts. I broke the first one. After that I inserted the mounts with my fingers and then carefully went over them with a rubber hammer to make sure they were secure and in place. If hit too hard, though, the rubber hammer might break the mounts, as well. Anywho. The net has enough mounts that one missing doesn’t seem to effect it. Come on, Ikea!

The only gripe I have with this desk is height adjustment. Although sleek and discreet, the lever works fine and the desk raises and lowers smoothly. Height adjustment is a bit of an oddity, though. If you bother to research/shop for this type of desk, you’ll find there are others that offer better height control. Unfortunately for me those other products aren’t readily available where I live, plus, when compared with all the bling-bling, this desk is very competitive. Bling-bling here or there, this desk isn’t less functional. That is, other brands offer preset buttons for desk height. I thought that was something I needed. When asked, Ikea simply said that this unit had no presets. Whaaaaaa?

It has presets. When you connect the app, you can set three desk heights. You would think that after setting the heights all you have to do is tap the height setting in the app and the desk will activate accordingly. But that’s not how it works. You still have to use the lever on the desk or the up/down arrows on the app. What isn’t explained anywhere–at least I didn’t find it and the Ikea person I talked to didn’t know either–is that once you have set a preset height, all you have to do is hold the lever and it will go to that preset height and stop. And that’s the ticket. You have to activate the lever. Could this be done differently without breaking the bank? Sure. Why not. It’s just a matter of doing a bit more with the app. Come on Ikea, get your $hit together.

All-in-all this has been a worthwhile purchase. In fact, if they come out with an all white version, my better-half might even get one. As of the writing of this worst-post, they are only available in brown and black desktops with the odd, off-colour (is it beige?) legs. Aghast! Again. Come on Ikea.

Rant (and consume) on.

-T

Am I on my last hair trimmer, dear worst-reader? At least I hope I’m on my last one. It’s a thing I’m going through right now, don’t you know, in this–the $hit$how that is consume-to-survive. The idear is the following: Pay a little bit more now in the hopes that–if there is such a thing as quality–I don’t have to pay again and again and again later. I mean, come on. This is the (I forget which number) hair trimmer I’ve had to buy in the last ten years. Am I chasing a dream up the wrong bark-less tree here, dear worst-reader? I mean, come on–again. I’m beyond middle age. I lost most of my hair by my mid-thirties. Now I’m mid-fifties and what’s left of my hair just needs to be trimmed down every few days along with a good beard shave and that lustful feel of fresh and stingy aftershave. Goodness knows how much I’ve saved over the years by doing all this without having to go to a barber. But I’m also tired of buying hair trimmers, for fcuk-sake! Then again, at least I don#t live in #Americant anymore, eh. Or did you miss the vid on the interwebnets recently that is yet another example of how a once great nation-state has devolved into a divide & conquer cesspool of THE LAND OF FREE TO BE STUPID? I mean, my problems are ALL about finding the right product to buy, eh. #Americant’s problems are a whole nother $hit$how of stupid-galore. Or am I wrong?

My previous hair trimmer was some odd-named, cheap-o device I bought on you-know-who online shopping website. In the beginning it was a pretty cool device. It charged with a USB cable. It had the proper blade length settings that allowed me to use it without an adapter–as I prefer to keep my fading hair at around 2mm. And I even got a kick out of the little numerical screen that informed me of the battery status–which, once the battery died, was no longer amusing. It was obviously a cheap piece of $hit–even though it did what it was supposed to do for a while. Kinda like #Americant used to be, eh?

But let me give some credit where it’s due. Cheap ain’t always that bad–unless you’re an #Americant and are bitter at the $hit$how you’ve either created or inherited. Sometimes one can get lucky with cheap stuff that works great–especially if you’re a duma$$ #Trump-er with the mindset that is no longer than the hair atop my balding head. For example. I got lucky with stereo speakers and a stereo amp that I bought a few years ago to replace that stupid multi-channel, surround sound system that cost me thousands and drove me crazy and also turned me totally off to multiple channel audio. But that’s neither here nor there. Back to cheap v quality hair trimmers and a bit more about how/why it’s so hard to elevate yourself out of so much stupid when you’ve been reared by it.

My last hair trimmer worked pretty good for about a year–until the battery died a few days ago. But I already worst-said that. That is, the battery wouldn’t hold a charge anymore. What to do, what to do with this consume-to-survive throw-away world we live in, eh? Buying a new battery for it is a choice I suppose but once I saw how fiddly all that would be I gave up on the idear. As best I can remember that was the fourth hair-trimmer (or is it hair-clipper?) I’ve been forced to purchase in the last ten years–each of which as been thrown away and away and away. Even though I have a trusty Braun razor that helds-up much longer, and I even had a Braun hair trimmer once, too, the Braun hair trimmer didn’t last much longer than the cheap one that just died. Plus, the Braun hair trimmer wasn’t as flexible when it came to adjusting for desired hair length. For whatever reason, the powers-that-be at Braun thought that their hair trimmer shouldn’t go below 3mm. That’s just too long for this proudly balding guy. Speaking of proudly balding. Get a load of the vid-link below where the young gun from where-ever bum-fcuk #Americant gets out of his stupid-truck to punch what looks like a guy that could be me.

What the fcuk is going on with #Americant, dear worst-reader? Or am I the only one to notice that THE LAND OF FREE TO BE STUPID is reaching new heights of STUPID? Oh wait. Back to the less politically correct issue of hair trimmers for ageing wannabe hippies like worst-moi.

What is it with making a half decent hair trimmer? Enter the world of half-professional hair trimming equipment–I hope.

I bought Wahl hair clippers (trimmer) the other day at almost half price. Even though the thing is double what a hair trimmer from other makers would cost (i.e. Panasonic, Remington, Braun, etc.), I went with it. Obviously the sale price helped. Aware that this is a real barbershop device, i.e. less forgiving when in the hands of an amateur hair trimmer like my worst-self, I’m hoping that this thing will give me some relief from having to buy another trimmer anytime soon. At the least, if/when the batteries die, I can send it back to Wahl and they’ll put new ones in–or, because of its build quality, I can change the batteries myself–which is just not an option with those other big-brand name devices. Also, if need be, the electrical charging cable can be used to run the Wahl if the battery conks-out. The other hair trimmers I’ve had could only be used while on battery power. Either their cables were too short or the device just didn’t work right when on cable.

The only issue after first use of the Wahl trimmer is the hard and somewhat sharp blades. The other (cheap-o) devices were easier on the scalp when gliding along and trimming. The Wahl has some serious hard edges.

So a question remains in this quest for consume-to-survive autonomy or getting away with as little cost to life as possible. Is it even feasible that this could be the last hair trimmer I buy? Indeed. Questions that need be asked as the silver years approach and those golden years aren’t far off but at least I’m far enough away from #Americant that I don’t have to worry about some stupid whipper-snapper hack-job jumping out of a #MAGA truck just to slap me around because, well, I coined the term #Americant on account the place is going to hell in a hand basket faster than you can say impeach that piece of $hit with the pee-pee hair.

Or maybe not.

Good luck suckers.

Rant on.

-T

Links:
– 29 yr old punches 69 yr old and all is well in land of free to be stupid (sarcasm off)

Note on the pics. The Birkenstock shoe (left foot) is still in what I consider to be its break-in period. They’re only about ten days old. Note the suede sole footbed insert. The sandal (right foot) is broke-in and is probably four months old. The only issue I’m facing with the sandals is that I’ve run out of holes for tightening the straps as the leather has stretched a bit. The ladies at the Birkenstock store said it’s easy to add another hole or two. Good news, eh. Tip to break-in the sandals: after shower wear them with undried feet.

Been having foot trouble, don’t you know, dear worst-reader. Yeah, it’s been going on for years. The origin of this trouble has been mostly due to weight and a screwed-up left achilles. It might be also attributable to the side-ways goings and comings I experience after a bottle or three of wine. But that’s neither here nor there. My foot trouble has caused me to favour one foot over the other and, who knows, might even lead to that hip replacement a few years down the road. Oh yeah. I’m having hip trouble now, too. Nomatter.

According to those in the know, the (real) problem with my feet might be the so-called cheap-o factor. How could anyone have guessed that for the last ten or so years I’ve been flying to the US, not only to visit my ageing mother, but to purchase cheap sneakers at a Rehoboth, DE, outlet mall. If you’re not in the know, dear worst-reader, get this: those outlet malls in DE are not only cheap but they are also friggin’ tax free. Which can only mean, for worst-writer, I guess, cheapness has contributed to my feet trouble. On the other hand, the Nike Free shoes I’ve favoured for the past few years, you know, the ones with the extremely flexible souls (that collect so many little rocks in the cracks) have been the only shoes I can wear for any extended period of time. You know, when walking around Paris for three days and worst-stuff like that. In fact. I haven’t been able to wear real shoes (leather and/or dress shoes) for years. They’re just too painful. If I have to wear fancy-pants real shoes, say for a special event, I plan it so that I can get out of them ASAP. In fact, until recently, I only had one pair of fancy pants real shoes. Indeed. And so. A nice new pair of Nike Free 5.0s in black go well with a suit, don’t you know. On the other hand, even when not in Paris, I take lots of walks, especially with Beckett the killer pug, and I wear out those Nikes quickly. I can easily wear out a pair of Nikes in six months. That also means the soft and un-supporting worn out footbeds end up hurting my feet even more–if not actually doing more damage. But I’m off subject.

After complaining to my better-half again and again about my feet, she suggested two things. First, change shoe brand and/or change shoe sole. Second, maybe it was time I stopped cheaping-out on shoes. She then recommended we go with what she’s been alluding to for some time: let’s try Birkenstock. She added that she’s been reading-up on the issue and that we’ve probably reached the age where it is time for a bit more foot-love.

“Birkenstock? Really?” I questioned.
“Sure. Why not?”
“Not sure I’m ready for the ultimate in Germanin preppy foot wear,” I added.
“You’re more German than all of us,” she said. “Plus, they’re perfectly engineered shoes.”
“Perfectly over-engineered,” I added.

Within three days I was wearing new Birkenstock sandals around the house. As of the writing of this worst-post, I’ve been wearing those sandals everyday, all day, for the last three months only removing them when I nap, sleep or bathe. And although the break-in period with the soles was a bit trying, after about a week of both foot pain and lower leg pain–seriously, the footbed of the sandals effect the muscles in the leg below the knee– something was clicking with these shoes. Soon I was telling my wife that my feet haven’t felt this good in years–especially considering that the last three places we’ve lived all had hardwood floors–where I’ve been unable to walk barefoot but also had never found a pair of comfortable house shoes as the wife would never agree to thick shag-carpet.

By-the-buy, I did have a pair of Crocs for a few years but I hated them from the get-go. More on that here. In fact, I’m now convinced that the reason I wore Crocs was (1) I was too lazy to get informed about my aching feet and (2) they seemed like an alternative to wearing stuff that made me look… old (but on that I could be wrong).

Long pseudo-review short, although I do remember trying Birkenstock shoes back in the late 1980s, where they just didn’t work for my feet, it seems that now there is nothing else I’d rather wear. And so. On the success of the house shoes, i.e. sandals, I’ve since really splurged and bought a pair of Birkenstock (real) shoes. The break-in period for these seems to be a bit longer than the sandals but I can say that so-far they’ve not disappointed. The shoes, by-the-buy, have the traditional footbed as an insert. I was skeptical at first if going with an insert was the right thing to do but after the first week of break-in I’m now good with it.

Just like the sandals, the footbed, it’s shape and it’s composition, is the secret to Birkenstock. If you recall, I have a protruding left achilles. That means that for most of my adult life, I’ve never been able to wear a shoe size that matches my actual foot size. The work-around for worst-moi has always been to wear shoes, depending on the brand, that are at least one size too big. I simply need the extra space for my achilles at the heel of my left foot. Either that or I suffer severe blistering. Although I have to buy the same over-size with Birkenstocks, the fact that the footbed eventually fits to my foot, is a godsend. No longer do I have to deal with my feet moving around in shoes because they are a size or size-and-a-half too big. The cork and synthetic composite structure of the footbed eventually fits (moulds?) to my foot. It’s brilliant. Why the hell didn’t I think of this fifteen or so years ago. Oh yeah. Cause I’m a cheap-o!

While I’m worst-writing about expensive $hit, the negative here is that due to all the walking I do, I don’t think the shoes are gonna last very long. As you can see in the pics above, there’s not much rubber where shoe meets ground. On the other hand, if/when I do wear out the soles, in a half year or so, the shoes are probably structurally worn out anywho. Now I’m wondering if I’ll be able to replace the sole. Also. As you’ll note from their webpage or any retailer that sells them, this level of needed comfort for those of us with foot troubles galore, means that these shoes ain’t cheap. Since my better-half approved of the purchase, all is good. The only question is, I’m now so sold on Birkenstock as my consume-to-survive go-to foot wear, there are at least two other pairs I’d also like to own. I’m thinking I’ll go with another pair of shoes without the inserts. Yeah, that’s the ticket. Time to save up the doe, baby. In a few months fancy-pants-shoes version 3.0.

Rant (and walk comfortably) on.

-T