Kickass, the doorstop dog, allows the keeper to lament being reminded on a minute-to-minute basis that he is hopelessly buried in an avalanche of technology and must get comfortable with being viewed as quaintly out of it.
That he cannot make the transition from road maps to dashboard navigation, loses calls on his cell phone, creates backups at automatic check-outs, causes his computer to make odd noises until it is rescued by Phyllis, and is never quite sure that automatic doors are going to open for him—all of this and more has him in something of a permanent pout.
It helps some to realize that DNA is at play: Grandpa (“TJ” for Thomas Jefferson) Stokes never did fully make the adjustment from horses to automobiles. The big problem was that Grandpa TJ—an inveterate horseman, obviously did not realize that it was up to the driver–not horses, as to how fast you went around a corner with an automobile. After tipping over numerous times, TJ gave up driving and was content to be chauffeured by others, including the keeper’s father Forrest who laughed about how, as a passenger, TJ would say “turn here” when there had been no chance to slow down.
That is more or less where the keeper is—in the role of passenger after too much “tip-over” experience.