So I got a PS4 and here's why

[This…](http://www.idigitaltimes.com/articles/21763/20140203/xbox-one-is-terrible-five-reasons-regret.htm)

> The Kinect Can’t Tell A Dog’s Ass From A Human Hand

> I wish that headline was hyperbole. I wish I was exaggerating. But in the two months of having an Xbox One it constantly confuses my dog’s ass for a human hand. Whenever one of my dogs hops on the couch, or even walks past it, the Kinect (more often than not) interrupts whatever I’m watching (because there’s no games, remember?) with a hand gesture icon. It doesn’t select anything, thankfully, but remains on the screen for a few moments and is generally just annoying. And the more it happens the more annoying it gets.

> And it’s not just my dog’s ass that the Kinect has problems with. Microsoft apparently failed to realize that actual human beings sitting on a couch might, occasionally, use their hands. I guess the Kinect test couch was in a setting without cellphones or snacks or lively conversation. If my wife makes a gesture while telling me a story, or I pull my phone up to send some texts, I usually hear the telltale “ding” and my screen goes dark and there’s the hand icon floating on the screen. And, according to Xbox support, there’s really no way to stop this from happening.

> So (nearly) every time my wife talks, or I send a text or my dog crosses the room I have to throw up a “Heil Hitler” gesture at my Kinect so I can continue watching what I want.

(I’ll tell you when it’s actually worth owning over a PS3. Right now, I’m still in [the first stage of grief, the best stage :-)](http://terrychay.com/article/relationship-clubs.shtml).)

Mailing list talk has consequences

One of my engineers was leaving the building for a late lunch and held the door open for me and another director. Before we parted, we had a short chat in the doorway about approvals on a purchase order.

“Hey, I need to see your ID!” Building security yelled at us.

“Huh? What?” H— replied?

“That’s the new policy. I need to ask to see everyone’s keycard.”

“It must be related to that mailing list thread.” I told H—, matter-of-factly. (For over a week now, an internal mailing list thread has been going on about building security. I stopped reading when someone suggested that the only way to solve this was to install lasers to detect when two people enter with one card, and another one argued that we should just make an HR policy to fire anyone who lets anyone in without proper ID. The reason I stopped was because neither post was trolling us in jest.)

The building security guy continued indignantly, “Even if I know you, even if you’re a manager—and I know you two are managers. L—, the head of the company, said I must to ask for your ID or call her down to greet you in the lobby.” (Sidenote: L— is not the head of the company. On the other hand, poor L— suggested on the mailing list that any solution hopeless because building security is seriously underpaid by the owners, perhaps to the point of illegality.)

I joked, “Even if I thought the discussion that touched off this policy was a waste of everyone’s time?”

Building security apparently has about as much humor as our company mailing list. So I reluctantly dug through my wallet and and pulled out a blank white piece of plastic, that may or may not have been my car parking card—they’re identical and I do not have an RFID reader on my person.

He let me through anyway.

That’s good, because to this day I do not know the average airspeed of an unladen swallow.