So, in a moment of questionable judgment, I decided to purchase a Fire HD 8 (2022). I wanted to experience the technological marvel crafted by the same people who know I need a 48-pack of toilet paper delivered by a drone. What could possibly go wrong?

Let’s start with performance. Calling this device “laggy” is an insult to things that are merely slow. This tablet operates with the blistering speed of a glacier. The aesthetics are equally breathtaking, assuming you find cheap plastic and a screen that smudges if you look at it too hard to be the pinnacle of design. It’s less “tablet” and more “futuristic lunch tray.”

The “home screen” is not a home. It’s a digital straitjacket, a relentless, seizure-inducing billboard for every single Amazon service. You are not a user; you are a captive audience. Want to hide the Amazon apps? Too bad. Want to remove them? Don’t be silly. They are your family now.

Naturally, it doesn’t come with the Google Play Store. That would imply giving you access to a functional and diverse ecosystem of applications. Instead, you get the Amazon Appstore, a sad, barren digital wasteland where apps go to die. I had to perform some unholy digital ritual following a guide from the dark corners of the internet just to get the real Play Store to work.

Oh, it has a camera! I think. It captures photos with the stunning clarity of a watercolor painting left out in the rain. Its most impressive feature, however, is its profound, philosophical refusal to scan QR codes. Why would a camera in 2023 need to do something so trivial? It’s a mystery for the ages.

But can it game? I bravely attempted to install Honkai: Star Rail. The Play Store took one look at my device’s specs and laughed, telling me it wasn’t supported. Undeterred, I found an APK. The “game” ran at a cinematic 0.5 frames per second. It was less of a gaming experience and more of a cry for help rendered in still images. Next, I tried Genshin Impact. The Play Store graciously allowed the download, then, in a delightful plot twist, informed me I was out of disk space. Checkmate.

So, what is this piece of e-waste actually for? It’s a purpose-built device for mindlessly shoveling money into Amazon’s gaping maw and consuming mediocre content on Prime Video. It’s not a tablet; it’s a shopping cart with a battery.

I’m returning it. Not out of anger, but out of a deep, existential sadness for the silicon that died to create this magnificent paperweight.