I flunked a student last week for citing “The Onion” in his research paper. He called me a “digital native phobe.” Which is rich, coming from a kid who thinks a bibliography is a place to store horror movie recommendations. But I digress. This review is about a product that, after 22 years of teaching, has finally made me question my entire rubric system.
I bought the Zojirushi Streaming Stick (amazon says 4.2 out of 5 stars, 10,672 ratings — which is 10,672 people who either have great Wi-Fi or terrible judgment) because I was promised it would “stream anything.” I assumed that meant it could stream my lesson plans directly into my brain, bypassing the hour I spend convincing myself “yes, you do need to grade those essays, stop rearranging your desk.”
Instead, I found myself wondering something no teacher should ever wonder about a $15.99 device: what happens when a Zojirushi Streaming Stick meets the human body’s least cited orifice?
The product is sleek. Small. Plastic. I could tell you the ASIN is B0DJGDC3BD, but what I really want to tell you is that B0DJGDC3BD looks like the love child of a USB drive and a suppository that got separated at birth. The packaging doesn't suggest rectal use. The instructions don't suggest rectal use. But the shape suggests nothing but rectal use. It’s practically screaming, “use me for what nature intended: filing your tax returns while clogging your colon.”
So, naturally, I did what any overworked, under-caffeinated high school teacher would do. I conducted a peer-reviewed experiment. In the breakroom. During second period. (The janitor will never be the same.)
If you’re reading this, you’re probably wondering, “is the Zojirushi Streaming Stick safe?” And the answer is: technically? Probably not. But neither is grading 150 essays on the symbolism in The Great Gatsby while your back gives out. I approached it with the rigor I expect from my AP students. I did not have the Zojirushi streaming stick actual experience involve Wi-Fi. I kept it local. Purely physical. No streaming necessary. Just me, the stick, and the existential dread of knowing I have to be back at 7:30 AM tomorrow.
The results were... mixed. On the “getting it in” scale (I’m avoiding the “s” word per the rules), it’s an 8/10. The rounded tip helps. The body, however, is where it gets tricky. The body has a USB plug at one end. That’s where you should plug it into your TV. Do NOT, under any circumstances, plug the stick into yourself thinking it’s a charging cable. That’s a different kind of “electronics rectal use” that involves a trip to a doctor who will not be amused.
The danger rating is high because I sneezed. The resulting “return to sender” trajectory sent the stick flying across the breakroom, hitting a student’s vending machine bag of chips. I call that a “zero-day exploit.” The product is now in the lost and found, where it will live forever, a monument to my curiosity and poor impulse control.
