But that’s what modern packaging has driven us to. As I try to open things these days, I either think I’m seeing the first signs of feebleness brought on by old age or find myself prone to committing violence toward inanimate objects.

I don’t know where to begin.

How about the kitchen? As I shuffle between pantry and the refrigerator to offer my daughters the most nutritious meals that a microwave and Tupperware leftover container can provide, I am frustrated at every turn.

Cereal. Why in the name of Good Housekeeping don’t they use Ziploc bags rather than those plastic liners that you tug and pull this way and that, finally sending cereal flying once you do get a good rip?

Then, after you’ve poured a bowl, you stuff the plastic inside the box, hardly keeping the cereal fresh and ensuring that when you pour it next, kernels will spill down the sides, never to be seen again but annoying you endlessly with their rattling.

How about those dashed “Push Here and Pull Back” spots on macaroni boxes? They never push in for me.

Why have we regressed when it comes to packaging? Why can’t we insert an order of french fries right-side-up at the drive-through?

I bought a case of bottled water recently from a local discount store. I couldn’t open any of them. I finally figured out I could use my fingernails to slice the defective perforation between the cap and bottle neck. Good thing I’m not a nail-biter.

Juice boxes? I often can’t pierce the straw hole, the juice always comes shooting out over the upholstery when I hand it to the kids, and you can never suck everything out.

What were they thinking?

Trying to snap open a bag of potato chips takes all the groaning and heaving of lifting weights.

And how many of those silly labels on fruit do you think you’ve eaten in your lifetime?

Ever since the Tylenol poisoning in Chicago in 1982, most containers of foodstuffs have come with protective seals. “For Your Protection,” they say. I guess you’re supposed to be able to peel them off, but I usually have to stab them violently with a knife.

The manufacturers of that razor plastic that encases music CDs should be charged with assault with a dangerous weapon. Never opened one yet without scissors, knife or a sliced finger.

Those flimsy bands that you’re supposed to be able to pull and the wrapper melts off? The manufacturers’ long-running payback joke on you, the consumer.

How about those plastic strings they punch all over your new shirt or jeans? You either cut them in two and lose them in the rug, or you miss one and it scratches the heck out of your neck or hip while at work.

I used to rip a present open with a spontaneous burst of glee on Christmas or a birthday.

Now, I ask if there’s a Swiss army knife or a blowtorch in the house.

Hannah got a Power Rangers set this past Christmas. By the time I had cut through the hermetically sealed plastic and freed the good guys from all those twisties, Hannah was long gone and far removed from her suddenly Grinchy dad.

A colleague of mine bought a watch for her hubby. It was sealed in hard plastic with no obvious seams. She finally resorted to a table vise. “I believe a hammer was used, too,” she tells me.

Ever notice how packaging peanuts seem to fly out of boxes and are magnetized to your fingers? Ever wonder if that’s by design?

Maybe all of this really isn’t a standout failure in the otherwise stellar march of American technology. Maybe it’s a coordinated revenge by all those people toiling in Thailand, China and the Philippines, getting back at us for their monotonous, underpaid labor.

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The Voices column is written by a rotating team of New Era staffers. It appears Mondays.

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