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Buds Never Stop

The Mucker by Edgar Rice Burroughs, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . BARBARA IN MEXICO BARBARA IN MEXICO THE manager of El Orobo Rancho was an American named Grayson. He was a tall, wiry man whose education had been acquired principally in the cow camps of Texas, where, among other things one does NOT learn to love nor trust a greaser. As a result of this early training Grayson was peculiarly unfitted in some respects to manage an American ranch in Mexico; but he was a just man, and so if his vaqueros did not love him, they at least respected him, and everyone who was or possessed the latent characteristics of a wrongdoer feared him. Perhaps it is not fair to say that Grayson was in any way unfitted for the position he held, since as a matter of fact he was an ideal ranch foreman, and, if the truth be known, the simple fact that he was a gringo would have been sufficient to have won him the hatred of the Mexicans who worked under him—not in the course of their everyday relations; but when the fires of racial animosity were fanned to flame by some untoward incident upon either side of the border. Today Grayson was particularly rabid. The more so because he could not vent his anger upon the cause of it, who was no less a person than his boss. It seemed incredible to Grayson that any man of intelligence could have conceived and then carried out the fool thing which the boss had just done, which was to have come from the safety of New York City to the hazards of warring Mexico, bringing—and this was the worst feature of it—his daughter with him. And at such a time! Scarce a day passed without its rumors or reports of new affronts and even atrocities being perpetrated upon American residents of Mexico. Each day, too, the gravity of these acts increased. From mere insult they had run of late to assault and even to murder. Nor was the end in sight. Pesita had openly sworn to rid Mexico of the gringo—to kill on sight every American who fell into his hands. And what could Grayson do in case of a determined attack upon the rancho? It is true he had a hundred men—laborers and vaqueros, but scarce a dozen of these were Americans, and the rest would, almost without exception, follow the inclinations of consanguinity in case of trouble. To add to Grayson's irritability he had just lost his bookkeeper, and if there was one thing more than any other that Grayson hated it was pen and ink. The youth had been a “lunger” from Iowa, a fairly nice little chap, and entirely suited to his duties under any other circumstances than those which prevailed in Mexico at that time. He was in mortal terror of his life every moment that he was awake, and at last had given in to the urge of cowardice and resigned. The day previous he had been bundled into a buckboard and driven over to the Mexican Central which, at that time, still was operating trains—occasionally—between Chihuahua and Juarez. His mind filled with these unpleasant thoughts, Grayson sat at his desk in the office of the ranch trying to unravel the riddle of a balance sheet which would not balance. Mixed with the blue of the smoke from his briar was the deeper azure of a spirited monologue in which Grayson was engaged. A girl was passing the building at the moment. At her side walked a gray-haired man—one of those men whom you just naturally fit into a mental picture of a director's meeting somewhere along Wall Street. “Sich langwidge!” cried the girl, with a laugh, covering her ears with her palms. The man at her side smiled. “I can't say that I blame him much, Barbara,” he replied. “It was a very foolish thing for me to bring you down here at this time. I can't understand what ever possessed me to do it.” “Don't blame yourself, dear,” remonstrated the girl, “when it was all my fault. I begged and begged and begged until you had to consent, and I'm not sorry either—if nothing happens to you because of our coming. I couldn't stay in New York another minute. Everyone was so snoopy, and I could just tell that they were dying to ask questions about Billy and me.” “I can't get it through my head yet, Barbara,” said the man, “why in the world you broke with Billy Mallory. He's one of the finest young men in New York City today—just my ideal of the sort of man I'd like my only daughter to marry.” “I tried, Papa,” said the girl in a low voice; “but I couldn't—I just couldn't.” “Was it because—” the man stopped abruptly. “Well, never mind dear, I shan't be snoopy too. Here now, you run along and do some snooping yourself about the ranch. I want to stop in and have a talk with Grayson.” Down by one of the corrals where three men were busily engaged in attempting to persuade an unbroken pony that a spade bit is a pleasant thing to wear in one's mouth, Barbara found a seat upon a wagon box which commanded an excellent view of the entertainment going on within the corral. As she sat there experiencing a combination of admiration for the agility and courage of the men and pity for the horse the tones of a pleasant masculine voice broke in upon her thoughts. “Out there somewhere!” says I to me.  “By Gosh, I guess, thats poetry!” “Out there somewhere—Penelope—with kisses on her mouth!” And then, thinks I, “O college guy! your talk it gets me in the eye, The north is creeping in the air, the birds are flying south.” Barbara swung around to view the poet. She saw a slender man astride a fagged Mexican pony. A ragged coat and ragged trousers covered the man's nakedness. Indian moccasins protected his feet, while a torn and shapeless felt hat sat upon his well-shaped head. AMERICAN was written all over him. No one could have imagined him anything else. Apparently he was a tramp as well—his apparel proclaimed him that; but there were two discordant notes in the otherwise harmonious ensemble of your typical bo. He was clean shaven and he rode a pony. He rode erect, too, with the easy seat of an army officer. At sight of the girl he raised his battered hat and swept it low to his pony's shoulder as he bent in a profound bow. “I seek the majordomo, senorita,” he said. “Mr. Grayson is up at the office, that little building to the left of the ranchhouse,” replied the girl, pointing. The newcomer had addressed her in Spanish, and as he heard her reply, in pure and liquid English, his eyes widened a trifle; but the familiar smile with which he had greeted her left his face, and his parting bow was much more dignified though no less profound than its predecessor. And you, my sweet Penelope, out there somewhere you wait for me, With buds of roses in your hair and kisses on your mouth. Grayson and his employer both looked up as the words of Knibbs' poem floated in to them through the open window. “I wonder where that blew in from,” remarked Grayson, as his eyes discovered Bridge astride the tired pony, looking at him through the window. A polite smile touched the stranger's lips as his eyes met Grayson's, and then wandered past him to the imposing figure of the Easterner. “Good evening, gentlemen,” said Bridge. “Evenin',” snapped Grayson. “Go over to the cookhouse and the Chink'll give you something to eat. Turn your pony in the lower pasture. Smith'll show you where to bunk tonight, an' you kin hev your breakfast in the mornin'. S'long!” The ranch superintendent turned back to the paper in his hand which he had been discussing with his employer at the moment of the interruption. He had volleyed his instructions at Bridge as though pouring a rain of lead from a machine gun, and now that he had said what he had to say the incident was closed in so far as he was concerned. The hospitality of the Southwest permitted no stranger to be turned away without food and a night's lodging. Grayson having arranged for these felt that he had done all that might be expected of a host, especially when the uninvited guest was so obviously a hobo and doubtless a horse thief as well, for who ever knew a hobo to own a horse? Bridge continued to sit where he had reined in his pony. He was looking at Grayson with what the discerning boss judged to be politely concealed enjoyment. “Possibly,” suggested the boss in a whisper to his aide, “the man has business with you. You did not ask him, and I am sure that he said nothing about wishing a meal or a place to sleep.” “Huh?” grunted Grayson, and then to Bridge, “Well, what the devil DO you want?” “A job,” replied Bridge, “or, to be more explicit, I need a job—far be it from me to WISH one.” The Easterner smiled. Grayson looked a bit mystified—and irritated. “Well, I hain't got none,” he snapped. “We don't need nobody now unless it might be a good puncher—one who can rope and ride.” “I can ride,” replied Bridge, “as is evidenced by the fact that you now see me astride a horse.” “I said RIDE,” said Grayson. “Any fool can SIT on a horse. NO, I hain't got nothin', an' I'm busy now. Hold on!” he exclaimed as though seized by a sudden inspiration. He looked sharply at Bridge for a moment and then shook his head sadly. “No, I'm afraid you couldn't do it—a guy's got to be eddicated for the job I got in mind.” “Washing dishes?” suggested Bridge. Grayson ignored the playfulness of the other's question. “Keepin' books,” he explained. There was a finality in his tone which said: “As you, of course, cannot keep books the interview is now over. Get out!” “I could try,” said Bridge. “I can read and write, you know. Let me try.” Bridge wanted money for the trip to Rio, and, too, he wanted to stay in the country until Billy was ready to leave. “Savvy Spanish?” asked Grayson. “I read and write it better than I speak it,” said Bridge, “though I do the latter well enough to get along anywhere that it is spoken.” Grayson wanted a bookkeeper worse than he could ever recall having wanted anything before in all his life. His better judgment told him that it was the height of idiocy to employ a ragged bum as a bookkeeper; but the bum was at least as much of a hope to him as is a straw to a drowning man, and so Grayson clutched at him. “Go an' turn your cayuse in an' then come back here,” he directed, “an' I'll give you a tryout.” “Thanks,” said Bridge, and rode off in the direction of the pasture gate. “'Fraid he won't never do,” said Grayson, ruefully, after Bridge had passed out of earshot. “I rather imagine that he will,” said the boss. “He is an educated man, Grayson—you can tell that from his English, which is excellent. He's probably one of the great army of down-and-outers. The world is full of them—poor devils. Give him a chance, Grayson, and anyway he adds another American to our force, and each one counts.” “Yes, that's right; but I hope you won't need 'em before you an' Miss Barbara go,” said Grayson. “I hope not, Grayson; but one can never tell with conditions here such as they are. Have you any hope that you will be able to obtain a safe conduct for us from General Villa?” “Oh, Villa'll give us the paper all right,” said Grayson; “but it won't do us no good unless we don't meet nobody but Villa's men on the way out. This here Pesita's the critter I'm leery of. He's got it in for all Americans, and especially for El Orobo Rancho. You know we beat off a raid of his about six months ago—killed half a dozen of his men, an' he won't never forgive that. Villa can't spare a big enough force to give us safe escort to the border and he can't assure the safety of the train service. It looks mighty bad, sir—I don't see what in hell you came for.” “Neither do I, Grayson,” agreed the boss; “but I'm here and we've got to make the best of it. All this may blow over—it has before—and we'll laugh at our fears in a few weeks.” “This thing that's happenin' now won't never blow over 'til the stars and stripes blow over Chihuahua,” said Grayson with finality. A few moments later Bridge returned to the office, having unsaddled his pony and turned it into the pasture. “What's your name?” asked Grayson, preparing to enter it in his time book. “Bridge,” replied the new bookkeeper. “'Nitials,” snapped Grayson. Bridge hesitated. “Oh, put me down as L. Bridge,” he said. “Where from?” asked the ranch foreman. “El Orobo Rancho,” answered Bridge. Grayson shot a quick glance at the man. The answer confirmed his suspicions that the stranger was probably a horse thief, which, in Grayson's estimation, was the worst thing a man could be. “Where did you get that pony you come in on?” he demanded. “I ain't sayin' nothin' of course, but I jest want to tell you that we ain't got no use for horse thieves here.” The Easterner, who had been a listener, was shocked by the brutality of Grayson's speech; but Bridge only laughed. “If you must know,” he said, “I never bought that horse, an' the man he belonged to didn't give him to me. I just took him.” “You got your nerve,” growled Grayson. “I guess you better git out. We don't want no horse thieves here.” “Wait,” interposed the boss. “This man doesn't act like a horse thief. A horse thief, I should imagine, would scarcely admit his guilt. Let's have his story before we judge him.” “All right,” said Grayson; “but he's just admitted he stole the horse.” Bridge turned to the boss. “Thanks,” he said; “but really I did steal the horse.” Grayson made a gesture which said: “See, I told you so.” “It was like this,” went on Bridge. “The gentleman who owned the horse, together with some of his friends, had been shooting at me and my friends. When it was all over there was no one left to inform us who were the legal heirs of the late owners of this and several other horses which were left upon our hands, so I borrowed this one. The law would say, doubtless, that I had stolen it; but I am perfectly willing to return it to its rightful owners if someone will find them for me.” “You been in a scrap?” asked Grayson. “Who with?” “A party of Pesita's men,” replied Bridge. “When?” “Yesterday.” “You see they are working pretty close,” said Grayson, to his employer, and then to Bridge: “Well, if you took that cayuse from one of Pesita's bunch you can't call that stealin'. Your room's in there, back of the office, an' you'll find some clothes there that the last man forgot to take with him. You ken have 'em, an' from the looks o' yourn you need 'em.” “Thank you,” replied Bridge. “My clothes are a bit rusty. I shall have to speak to James about them,” and he passed through into the little bedroom off the office, and closed the door behind him. “James?” grunted Grayson. “Who the devil does he mean by James? I hain't seen but one of 'em.” The boss was laughing quietly. “The man's a character,” he said. “He'll be worth all you pay him—if you can appreciate him, which I doubt, Grayson.” “I ken appreciate him if he ken keep books,” replied Grayson. “That's all I ask of him.” When Bridge emerged from the bedroom he was clothed in white duck trousers, a soft shirt, and a pair of tennis shoes, and such a change had they wrought in his appearance that neither Grayson nor his employer would have known him had they not seen him come from the room into which they had sent him to make the exchange of clothing. “Feel better?” asked the boss, smiling. “Clothes are but an incident with me,” replied Bridge. “I wear them because it is easier to do so than it would be to dodge the weather and the police. Whatever I may have upon my back affects in no way what I have within my head. No, I cannot say that I feel any better, since these clothes are not as comfortable as my old ones. However if it pleases Mr. Grayson that I should wear a pink kimono while working for him I shall gladly wear a pink kimono. What shall I do first, sir?” The question was directed toward Grayson. “Sit down here an' see what you ken make of this bunch of trouble,” replied the foreman. “I'll talk with you again this evenin'.” As Grayson and his employer quitted the office and walked together toward the corrals the latter's brow was corrugated by thought and his facial expression that of one who labors to fasten upon a baffling and illusive recollection. “It beats all, Grayson,” he said presently; “but I am sure that I have known this new bookkeeper of yours before. The moment he came out of that room dressed like a human being I knew that I had known him; but for the life of me I can't place him. I should be willing to wager considerable, however, that his name is not Bridge.” “S'pect you're right,” assented Grayson. “He's probably one o' them eastern dude bank clerks what's gone wrong and come down here to hide. Mighty fine place to hide jest now, too. “And say, speakin' of banks,” he went on, “what'll I do 'bout sendin' over to Cuivaca fer the pay tomorrow. Next day's pay day. I don't like to send this here bum, I can't trust a greaser no better, an' I can't spare none of my white men thet I ken trust.” “Send him with a couple of the most trustworthy Mexicans you have,” suggested the boss. “There ain't no sich critter,” replied Grayson; “but I guess that's the best I ken do. I'll send him along with Tony an' Benito—they hate each other too much to frame up anything together, an' they both hate a gringo. I reckon they'll hev a lovely trip.” “But they'll get back with the money, eh?” queried the boss. “If Pesita don't get 'em,” replied Grayson. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Edgar Rice Burroughs (1995). The Mucker. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022 https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/331/pg331-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org , located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html.

BARBARA IN MEXICO

Field, Forest and Farm by Jean-Henri Fabre, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . ADVENTITIOUS BUDS CHAPTER XVII. ADVENTITIOUS BUDS “Buds such as we have been considering appear in the spring and then spend the summer in gaining strength, after which they remain stationary and as if wrapped in deep sleep all through the winter. The following spring they wake up and grow into branches or blossom into flowers. It is plainly to be seen that these dormant buds, as arboriculture calls them in its picturesque language, must, in order to withstand the summer heat and the winter’s cold, be clothed so as not to be parched by the sun or killed by the frost. They are all in fact covered with a wrapping of scales, and for that reason are called scaly buds. Buds of this class are found in the lilac, chestnut, pear, apple, cherry, poplar, and in fact nearly all the trees of our country. But if a tree can wait and devote a whole year to the development of its buds, which are clothed in a sheath of scales because of this waiting, there are a multitude of plants that have only a limited time at their disposal: they live only a year, and hence are called annuals. Such are the potato, carrot, pumpkin, and a great many more. In a few months or days they must hastily develop their buds. These, not having to pass through the winter, are [ ]never enveloped in protecting scales: they are naked buds. As soon as they appear they elongate, unfold their leaves, and become branches taking part in the work of the whole. Very soon, in the axils of their leaves, other buds make their appearance and behave like their predecessors; that is to say, they develop quickly into branches which in their turn produce other buds. And so on indefinitely until winter puts a stop to this scaffold of branches and kills the whole plant. Thus annuals ramify rapidly. In one year they produce several generations of branches implanted one on another, sometimes more, sometimes fewer, according to their species and their degree of vigor. Their buds, designed for immediate development, are always naked. On the contrary, those forms of vegetation that have a long life, such as trees, ramify slowly; they have only one generation of branches a year, and their buds, destined to live through the winter, are scaly. 85 Certain examples of plant-life have both kinds of buds. Such, for instance, are the peach-tree and the grape-vine. At the end of winter the vine-shoot bears scaly buds lined with flock, and the peach branches scaly buds coated with varnish. Both belong to the class of dormant buds: they have slept all winter in their sheaths of fur and scales. In the spring they develop into branches according to the general rule; but at the same time there appear in the axils of the leaves other buds without any protecting covering, and these develop immediately into branches. Thus the grape-vine and the peach-tree [ ]beget two generations in one year: the first, the issue of the scaly buds that have endured the winter; the second, naked buds formed in the spring and developing very soon after their formation. The branches arising from these latter finally give birth to scaly buds, which sleep through the winter and reproduce the same order of things the following year. 86 “Both axillary and terminal buds are in the normal order of plant-life: they appear in all forms of vegetation that live several years. But when the plant is in danger, when by some accident the regular buds are lacking or insufficient, others spring into being here and there at haphazard, even on the root if necessary, to restore a languishing vitality and put the plant once more in a flourishing condition. These accidental buds are to the part of the plant above the ground what adventitious roots are to the part below the ground: the menace of the moment calls them into existence at any endangered point. The edges of the wound caused by the lopping off of a branch, the part of a tree-trunk constricted by a band, portions of the bark injured by contusion, these are the points where they appear by preference. They are called adventitious buds, but their structure does not differ from that of normal buds. “Adventitious buds lend themselves to valuable uses. Suppose a number of young saplings to be planted at proper intervals in the ground. If they are then left to themselves these saplings grow each into a single trunk and form collectively a wood or forest. But it may be of advantage to replace each [ ]of these single trunks by a group of several trunks. In that case the young plantation is cut down to the level of the ground, and around the edge of each cross-section there presently spring a number of adventitious buds which shoot up into an equal number of stems, so that each sapling that would have developed only one trunk is transformed into a stump from which start numerous sprouts or suckers, all of the same age and strength. Then instead of a wood or forest we have a growth of underbrush, or a copse. When the suckers have acquired the desired size, a fresh cutting back lays them low and induces a still denser growth of shoots by multiplying the number of wounds. It is thus that from a single stock, repeatedly cut back and as often reinvigorated by the growth of adventitious buds, a quantity of wood is obtained exceeding that produced by the free and solitary development of one tree. 87 “Spared by the axe, the poplar rises in a majestic obelisk of verdure. The willow, so ungraceful in appearance along the banks of our ditches, with its shapeless top bristling with shoots sticking out in all directions, is, in its natural state, a tree of rare elegance on account of the suppleness of its branches and the fineness of its foliage. Considered as a thing of beauty, it certainly has nothing to gain by man’s interference with its mode of growth. But, alas, productivity does not always go hand in hand with beauty; and if it is desired to make these two trees, the poplar and the willow, produce a great [ ]mass of branches and fire-wood, decapitation, repeated periodically, transforms them into pollards, seamed with scars, gaping with bleeding wounds, disfigured with bruises, but at the same time contending against all this hard usage by a never-failing growth of adventitious buds which constantly replace with increasing prodigality the brushwood that has fallen victim to the axe. 88 “To finish the subject of adventitious buds—buds that persist in multiplying even when the parent stock languishes, and that withstand destruction until utter exhaustion has set in—let us recall for a moment certain weeds such as dog’s-tooth grass, cock-spur grass, and other grasses that are so hard to keep out of our garden paths unless we do something more than merely rake the surface of the ground. You may have taken infinite pains, we will say, to clean the paths, and have left them immaculate, or at least you think so. But you are mistaken. In a few days the grass has all come back in richer tufts than ever. The reason is plain enough now: your raking simply cut back the stems, leaving wounds that immediately covered themselves with adventitious buds, which quickly sent up new stalks. Thus, instead of destroying, you have multiplied. The only way to clear the ground of weeds is to pull them up by the roots; that done, you may consider the job well done.” About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Jean-Henri Fabre (2022). Field, Forest and Farm. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/67813/pg67813-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org , located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html.

ADVENTITIOUS BUDS

When it comes to mainstream Bluetooth earbuds, Apple owns the lion’s share of the market. In fact, in 2021 Apple made dollars in revenue on Airpods alone. So when a new player enters the market, it’s always good to compare them to the most popular alternative out there and see how they fare. $12.1 billion This year, artistic tech manufacturer , extremely stylish and futuristic Bluetooth earbuds that look like they belong on the set of Blade Runner. Don’t believe me? Check out their product trailer: Angry Miao released the Cyberblade https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1aU39lb97Y0?embedable=true But fancy animated advertising materials aside, how does the Cyberblade compare to the Apple Airpods? Table of Contents What is The Cyberblade by Angry Miao? Specs Pros Cons Pricing Apple Airpods Specs Pros Cons Pricing Angry Miao’s Cyberblade vs. The Apple Airpods Verdict I have not been paid for this review. However, I did receive a pair of The Cyberblade earbuds for review from the company. I also did not pay for my Apple Airpods (I received those as a wedding gift =D ) Vested Interest Disclosure: What is the Cyberblade by Angry Miao? Angry Miao has quickly become one of my favorite . I would describe them as a luxury tech brand that produces mainly PC peripherals and accessories. I use the word luxury because they are to PC tech what Louis Vuitton is to the handbag market. tech companies Most people can’t afford them, but those that can are diehard fans. For example, their wireless keyboard goes for $600 USD and is already sold out on their website. Cyberboard Terminal The Cyberblade is Angry Miao’s first foray into the world of audio. They are taking their futuristic art style and implementing it into a pair of designer wireless earbuds that will make everyone stare (at your ears). In their own words, the design was inspired by the Focus effect from the videogame : Horizon Zero Dawn Cyberblade Specs Let’s take a look at what is under the shell. These specs are taken directly from the . product page on Angry Miao The Highlights: 36ms low latency Up to 24-hour battery life Dual mics Noise cancellation Transparency Mode Full Specs: Pros: Long battery life Futuristic Design Dual mics for high quality voice input Weighs only 6.5g per earbud and comes with an array of eartip sizes/materials for optimal comfort ASE connection mode supports a variety of devices* *A Note on ASE Connection One of the most impressive features of the Cyberblade is their ASE connection mode. Even if your device (PS4, Windows PC, Nintendo Switch, Android phone) doesn’t have a Bluetooth dongle or Bluetooth functionality for whatever reason, the charging case itself can act as a dongle. All you need to do is: Put the earbuds in Close the charging case Plug it into a USB-C port in your device of choice Once you do, your wireless Cyberblade earbuds connect to the device as if they were plugged in via an AUX jack. Using the case itself, you can raise or lower volume by twisting the cover. This was surprisingly easy to use and I tried it on my Windows PC, my Android phone, and my Nintendo Switch and had no issues at all. Cons: High price point Bulky charging case makes it hard to fit in your pocket Not available for sale on major ecommerce platforms (Amazon, Rakuten, etc.) Cyberblade Price & Where to Buy: Currently, you can only order the Cyberblade on their . On the page, the company lists the Kickstarter page Cyberblade at a $328 USD MSRP. That is well above other competitors on the space. As a comparison, on Amazon the Apple Airpods Pro retail for $239, and the as of the writing of this article. Airpods 1st gen are just $137 Apple Airpods 1st Gen The Apple Airpods are among the most popular Bluetooth earphones in the world. My hunch is that their sales are due to the market share dominated by the iPhone itself, rather than the performance of the earbuds. Sure they work well, but nothing really separates them from the rest of the market (other than their compatibility with iOS and MacOS devices). Below, we’ll take a look at the specs, pros, and cons of the device to back up my opinion. Airpod 1st Generation Specs These specs are taken directly from . the Apple website Over 24-hour battery (including the charging case) Dual beamforming microphones Dual optical sensors Motion-detecting accelerometer Speech-detecting accelerometer AirPods Weight (each): 0.14 ounce (4 g) Charging Case Weight: 1.34 ounces (38 g) (only on iOS devices) Live listen Assistive switch control Pros 1. Extremely lightweight and compact While it makes them easy to lose, the Airpods lightweight nature makes them super comfortable and easy to carry. The case itself is just around 1.8 x 2 inches and can easily fit in your pocket. Furthermore, because they are not the noise-canceling type, they’re also easy on the ears and can be worn for long periods of time with little-to-no discomfort at all. 2. Easy-to-Use and Quick-to-Connect Perhaps the most important functionality is just the connection strength itself. Many of the Apple Airpods surpasses many non-Apple Bluetooth headsets. Be it my Windows PC, Android phone, MacBook, or even Nintendo Switch, I had no issues connecting the Airpods to any device. They connected instantly and were never disrupted. claim that the connection distance 3. Best for iOS and MacOS Devices Almost as if it were by design, I find it painful to get non-apple Bluetooth earphones to connect and stay connected to my Macbook Air. However, with Airpods it’s plug-and-play with no connectivity issues. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zFy2TwKKw6Y?embedable=true Cons 1. Functionality is limited to iOS devices The biggest disappointment was learning that the Airpods had touch controls that only worked on iOS devices. I looked like an idiot constantly tapping my ears to try to get the song to stop playing, until I finally Googled it  and learned my Android phone wasn’t worthy of the function. Apparently you can only customize the touch controls on iOS devices. On my Android phone, the double tap feature worked, but it was auto-set to the skip function. 2. No noise-canceling abilities For those of you looking for wireless earbuds for gaming, the Airpods aren’t going to cut it (if you are playing competitive games). Sure, they will connect to your PC just as easily as any other Bluetooth device. However, you just lose the competitive edge in FPS games where footstep sound effects are crucial. Airpod Price and Where to Buy On Amazon the Apple Airpods Pro retail for $239, and the as of the writing of this article. You can also buy them directly on the Airpods 1st gen are just $137 Apple site. Angry Miao’s Cyberblade vs. the Apple Airpods Verdict I hope the comparison of the specs, pricing, and pros and cons of each device above helped you make your own verdict. But, here’s mine: If you want to keep your costs down, and multi-purpose general device, the Apple Airpods are your way to go. The Airpods 1st gen are less than half the price of the Cyberblade, and while they won’t help you become a pro gamer, they can connect to gaming devices, and both Apple and non-Apple products (albeit not as easily). If you are a tech connoisseur, and prefer to spend your money on hardware rather than fancy clothes, shoes, or designer furniture, the Cyberblade will make you look like a sci-fi character. The specs and features of the Cyberblade beat the Airpods in almost every category. They are good for competitive PC gaming, and have perhaps the coolest and sleekest design we’ve ever seen in a pair of wireless earbuds. And while they are much more expensive, at the end of the day who would you rather support with your cash? The billionaire tech conglomerate Apple, or this scrappy small team at Angry Miao putting their heart and soul into every design? I know my answer. What’s yours?

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