Daily Dabble: Amazon — Innovation or Annihilation?
Amazon is both the greatest invention of our time… and maybe the slowest form of societal self-destruct we’ve ever signed up for.
It’s like weed in that way — amazing when used in moderation, slightly terrifying when you realize how much it’s woven into your daily life, and capable of making you think you need things you didn’t even know existed until three seconds ago. I can’t remember the last time I went more than a week without ordering something from Amazon. That’s the innovation part — it’s just too easy. A couple clicks, a mental shrug, and boom: a package magically appears at your door faster than you can decide what to have for lunch. Need a new phone charger? Got it. A watermelon slicer at 2 a.m.? Delivered by breakfast. A case of dog treats for Kushie because she looked at you funny? Already on the way.
The Innovation Side: Prime Time Magic
Let’s be real — the concept is genius. One company connects you to pretty much every product on Earth, delivers it in a matter of days (sometimes hours), and packages it in that familiar cardboard with the smile arrow. You can be sitting on your couch in pajama pants, watching The Sopranos, and in the time it takes Tony to eat a plate of baked ziti, you’ve impulse-bought:
- A heated blanket.
- An essential oil diffuser you’ll use twice.
- A bulk pack of pens you didn’t realize came in quantities of 200.
For a closet stoner, this is next-level convenience. Amazon keeps me supplied without the awkward small talk of physical stores. No running into neighbors at Target while I’m holding three bags of Doritos and a suspicious amount of Febreze.
The Annihilation Side: Bye-Bye, Brick-and-Mortar
But here’s where it gets dark. Remember local stores? Yeah, me neither. They’ve been slowly getting Thanos-snapped out of existence by Prime shipping and “Buy Now” buttons. The little mom-and-pop hardware store where the guy knew exactly which weird screw you needed? Gone. The bookstore with the grumpy cat in the window? Closed. Even the big chain stores are feeling it — ever notice how half of them now just sell “seasonal items” and electronics you could’ve ordered online for less Every Amazon package that shows up at my door is a tiny nail in the coffin of the way we used to shop. And I’m not above admitting… I’m hammering away with the rest of them.
The Algorithm Knows You’re High
Here’s where things get freaky: Amazon’s recommendation algorithm. This thing knows me better than I know myself. It’s not just guessing based on what I buy — it’s predicting based on who I am when I’m high.
Last week, I got a “Customers Also Bought” suggestion for:
- A hammock.
- A meat thermometer.
- A Batman onesie.
I didn’t even question it. I just clicked Add to Cart because apparently my inner stoner camping superhero chef needed to be unleashed.The scary part? They know. Somewhere in a server farm, Amazon has a Bud D. Lite profile that says:
“Likely to impulse-buy novelty lighters and high-end cheese at 11 p.m. on Fridays.”
And they’re not wrong.
The Stoner-Amazon Relationship
For closet stoners, Amazon is basically a lifeline. Need rolling papers? Done. Need an air purifier to hide the fact you needed rolling papers? Done. Need a new hoodie because your current one smells like Pineapple Express? Delivered tomorrow. It’s discreet. It’s fast. It’s dangerously frictionless. I’ve even caught myself timing my highs around deliveries. You haven’t truly reached peak Bud efficiency until you’ve sparked up, tracked a package in real time, and timed your come-down to coincide perfectly with the doorbell ring. Kushie knows the sound of an Amazon van now. She hears that sliding door and immediately assumes there’s a box of treats in it for her. Half the time, she’s right — because high Bud is a sucker for the “People Also Bought” dog toy section.
Impulse-Buy Hall of Fame
Some of my most legendary Amazon buys happened under the influence:
- A waffle maker shaped like the Death Star.
- A ten-pound bag of gummy worms.
- A “grow your own mushrooms” kit (edible… sadly not that kind).
- A Japanese chef’s knife so sharp it scares me every time I see it.
Do I need these things? No. Do they bring me joy? Absolutely. And that’s the problem — Amazon doesn’t just sell you stuff, it sells you dopamine. That little hit of excitement when you click “Place Order,” followed by the rush when you see that delivery status change to Out for Delivery. It’s like a slot machine where the prize is random kitchen gadgets and suspiciously cheap electronics.
The Downside Nobody Talks About
Here’s the annihilation nobody really admits to: Amazon kills patience. Remember when we’d wait a week, sometimes two, for a mail order to arrive? That’s ancient history. Now, if something says “Arrives Friday” and it’s Wednesday, I’m pacing around like a kid waiting for Christmas. It also kills the joy of browsing. Wandering through a store, finding something you didn’t know you needed — that’s gone. Now, the algorithm finds it for you… which sounds cool until you realize it’s just feeding you what you already like, turning you into a narrower, more predictable version of yourself.
Amazon and the Apocalypse
Here’s my baked theory: if there’s ever an apocalypse, Amazon will be the last thing standing. Cities might crumble, but Prime vans will still be out there, dodging zombies to deliver your cat litter and Bluetooth headphones. And when humanity finally rebuilds? They’ll find old Amazon boxes blowing across the wasteland like tumbleweeds.
Innovation or Annihilation?
Honestly, it’s both. Amazon is a marvel of modern logistics, an empire of efficiency, and an enabler of my laziest tendencies. It’s also a slow, creeping eraser of local culture, personal interaction, and our ability to survive without two-day shipping. The truth is, I’m not quitting Amazon anytime soon. It’s too good. Too easy. Too… inevitable. The real trick is using it without letting it use you — keeping some purchases in the real world, letting yourself browse a dusty shelf once in a while, and remembering that not every “must-have” at midnight will still feel like a must-have in the morning.
Final Puff of Wisdom
Amazon is like weed:
- Amazing in moderation.
- Sketchy in excess.
- And most fun when shared with friends (or dogs who think every box is for them).
So yeah, innovation and annihilation. But until they start charging for Prime rolling paper deliveries… I’m staying subscribed