There is a particular brand of exhaustion that comes with watching the human race try to innovate its way out of the fundamental misery of being alive. We have reached the 'transparent bowl' stage of late-stage capitalism, a period where the only thing left to sell us is the ability to witness our own caloric intake in real-time. Enter the Ninja Crispi, a device that ostensibly 'turns the air fryer on its head' by putting your food inside a heatproof glass container. Because if there is one thing the modern, sedentary consumer lacks, it is a high-definition view of a frozen mozzarella stick slowly hemorrhaging its processed cheese-analogue soul under the relentless glare of a halogen heating element.

Ninja, a company named after silent, lethal feudal Japanese assassins but primarily known for making loud, plastic boxes that pulverize kale, has decided that the primary flaw in our current kitchen topography is a lack of transparency. The 'Crispi'—a name that sounds like a marketing executive’s desperate attempt to mimic the speech patterns of a toddler—is being touted for its 'super savings.' This is the first lie in a long chain of deceptions. In the warped logic of the American marketplace, 'savings' are merely the discount we pay for the privilege of cluttering our countertops with more specialized junk. We are told we are saving money, yet our cabinets are bursting with the skeletons of previous 'innovations'—the George Foreman grills, the Instant Pots, the bread makers of 1994—all of which were supposed to revolutionize our lives but instead only revolutionized the amount of dust we have to clean.

Then there is the claim of 'semi-portability.' This is a masterpiece of linguistic cowardice. What, exactly, is 'semi-portable'? A grand piano is semi-portable if you have enough pulleys and a lack of self-respect. By branding this glass orb as semi-portable, Ninja is suggesting a lifestyle that does not exist. They want you to imagine yourself whisking your air fryer to a trendy rooftop party or a rustic campsite, because nothing says 'communing with nature' like dragging a heavy glass vessel and a power cord into the woods to ensure your tater tots maintain their structural integrity. It is a delusion sold to a demographic that finds the walk from the sofa to the microwave to be an arduous trek. The reality is that 'semi-portable' simply means it’s slightly easier to shove into the back of a closet when the realization hits that you’ve spent over a hundred dollars on a glorified lightbulb and a bowl.

The glass itself is 'heatproof,' a word that acts as a metaphor for the modern psyche. We are all encased in our own heatproof glass, watching the world burn around us while we remain focused on the internal temperature of a chicken wing. There is a voyeuristic quality to this product that is deeply unsettling. We no longer trust the timer; we no longer trust the smell of cooking food; we require visual confirmation of the Maillard reaction. We must see the grease bubble. We must watch the transformation. It is the pornography of the pantry, a way to stimulate the lizard brain without the inconvenience of actually developing a skill like, say, using a traditional oven without burning the house down.

The Right will likely view this as a triumph of the free market, a testament to the endless bounty provided by the Great God of Consumerism. They will ignore the fact that it’s just another piece of future-landfill manufactured in a factory by people who couldn't dream of owning the very luxury items they assemble. The Left, meanwhile, will find a way to performatively agonize over the energy consumption of a 'semi-portable' glass heater while simultaneously ordering their organic, free-range nuggets through a delivery app that exploits the gig economy. Both sides will eventually buy one, because both sides are equally susceptible to the siren song of a 'limited-time offer' on a product that promises to make their miserable, hurried dinners 15% more 'crispi.'

Ultimately, the Ninja Crispi is not a kitchen appliance; it is a diagnostic tool for a dying civilization. It is a monument to our collective inability to be bored, our obsession with 'hacks,' and our desperate need to see through everything because we no longer believe in anything. We are a species that has mastered the art of heating air in a glass box, yet we cannot figure out how to stop hating our neighbors or how to pay for healthcare. But at least now, as the lights go out on the American Experiment, we will have a perfectly clear view of our last meal, cooked to a golden brown in a semi-portable tomb of our own making. It’s on sale, after all. It would be a crime not to buy it.