Why would anyone want a smart fridge?

After a hack in France, internet-enabled appliances are looking even less appealing – especially before the holidays

We are deep into the holiday season now, past Halloween and a mere two weeks away from American Thanksgiving.

I’ve already given up taking care of my body, surrendering fully to gluttony, vices, and going to bed at 7pm because it’s pitch black outside. I’ve begun to hibernate like a slothful bear, my blanket and pillow never too far from my grasp. The only thing closer to my hands than my bedsheets is a slice of cold pizza. I just want to eat in peace, thank you very much.

Grocery retailers are keen to take advantage of holiday-related binge eating, developing and releasing ever-more-depraved festive novelty foods to subdue us into carb-induced slumber.

In the UK, Marks & Spencer is expected to unleash hoards of weird, miniature packages of comical junk, affectionately known as “picky bits”, to prevent your digestive system from ever idling into park. “Ham and Barber’s Cheddar Crumpets”. “Twelve Mini Chicken Kyivs”. “British Melton Mowbray pork pie”. These dishes either sound like a thing a tertiary character orders in a Harry Potter novel or the last meal of a 60s British gangster.

In America, we have Trader Joe’s. There’s no fun name like “picky bits” for the plastic tubs of slop they sell in the refrigerator section. Instead, we turn to our spouses and partners and mumble: “Pick me up some of that crap.” Toffee-flavored cheddar cheese. Pumpkin spice yogurt dip. An advent calendar … for dogs.

I don’t begrudge anyone for cramming their shopping carts with intentionally whimsical perishable food products for depressed people. Overeating is a better use of your hibernation time than drunk-driving into an Arby’s at 2am. This is a holiday rite of passage: the junk food gauntlet. It’s as crucial to the festive season as a decorated tree and a surplus of good cheer.

But what if I told you that with the press of a button, the entire picky bits industrial complex could collapse before we even have a chance to open our canine advent calendars?

In France last month, supermarket refrigerators across the country were shut off remotely by Iranian terrorists. Other European countries have been hit with similar attacks, which occasionally lead to food having to be thrown out.

My entire body goes numb thinking about what it would do to US and British citizens if their supermarkets were similarly affected during the holidays. Can I muddle through another family get-together without a large, rapidly-warming bowl of chicken uncured bacon ranch dip to soothe my anxiety? Doubtful. The chaos would be unprecedented. It’d be like Judge Dredd, Blade Runner and The Purge rolled into one, but with worse catering.

You might be wondering how someone even hacks a fridge. Well, industrial fridges like the ones hacked in France are operated remotely via computer.

It makes some sense that large-scale operations like grocery stores need to have the ability to make temperature changes quickly, without a bunch of fumbling around with knobs and buttons. But internet-connected fridges are available to consumers, too. Refrigerators from brands such as LG and Samsung allow regular people to change the temperature of their fridge from a smartphone app.

My house is not nearly big enough to require me to adjust the settings on my appliances from another room. I only have six rooms (counting the bathrooms, with which I am very familiar during the holidays). Once again, technology aims to solve a problem that doesn’t exist.

All we’re doing is trying to get closer to the God-level control of everything at the push of a button. The issue with that is: if we are God to our machines, then the devil also exists, and he knows how to code.

Maybe there are a few useful applications of this technology for those of us who are supremely lazy. Some fridges have cameras and AI capabilities that tell you what food is inside, so that you might maintain a clean, tidy food storage system – one that tells you when your groceries are about to go bad.

As though your actual human eyes and hands don’t work. That old broccoli is in there. Do I need a computer to tell me what my poisoned nose already can sense? Yup, that’s rotten food. Confirmed. Until there’s a robot that can take the food out for me, move it to the compost bin, and hose down the interior, I’ll pass on the smart fridge.

I’ve already pointed out that computers have overwhelmed our cars, but this feels far more ominous. I need my holiday trash. I need my 2,000-calorie tandoori chicken bites. I can’t function without uncured ham and swiss cheese pockets.

This is existential. It goes beyond mere sustenance. This is my emotional support during trying times. If black-hat hackers can shut off my fridge and spoil my food, I might start picking my hair out or nibbling on one of my less crucial digits. If my mouth isn’t full of goop and slop, then I might be forced to have a conversation with an uncle. These are the things nightmares are made of.

The calamity is coming. Someone with more computer savvy will realize that the most vulnerable moment in our society is right now, during the holidays. The time when we need our buffalo chicken garlic bread bites the most.

The only solution is to rip the computers out and go back to the switches, toggles and tactile buttons that used to maintain our civilization. The alternative is risking a holiday season without parmesan-crusted chocolate chip cookies or peppermint orange chicken.

If you’re sweating right now, your blood pressure rising like a crimson tide, then you’re a normal human being. This is the proper response to a doomsday scenario otherwise unfathomable by the average mind.

Alternatively, we could go back to digging holes in the backyard and filling them with ice and food. Hackers can’t access your refrigeration hole. They can’t melt ice from thousands of miles away. We must go back to nature – potato cheese sticks and cookie dough ice cream bites preserved as the Lord intended.

Grab a shovel and get to work. Just make sure you have a functioning microwave.

Dave Schilling is a Los Angeles-based writer and humorist