It seems early to be fussing about the cold, even here in the Great White North. In Ontari-ari-ari-o, our leaves are just starting to turn: a mix of the they-should-be-usual fantabulous fall colours and a depressing gray-brown.
Ooh, Brr
But this was not a comment on the ambient temperature. No, it was a mis-transcribed closed caption on a cooking show. What the charming host actually said was this:
The oil doesn’t have to be uber hot.
Automated closed captions are a technological marvel, one I am increasingly grateful for when watching TV with a loud soundtrack behind the actors’ voices, and TV where the actors speak in an accent other than mine, and TV where the actors mumble, and TV where the actors speak faster than my processing speed. For practical purposes, this might as well be all TV.
A marvel? Yes. Perfect? No. There’s a life lesson in there somewhere. We don’t have to be ooh-brr good to be a marvel to someone.