On Monday, November 21, 2016 at 3:12:13 PM UTC-5, Dave Platt wrote:
In article ,
Jeff Liebermann wrote:

Having a component last longer than the warranty period is considered
wasteful by many manufacturers. Therefore, they select the cheapest
possible part that will work up to when the warranty expires but no
longer. The result is a product where every component blows up at the
same time, just after the warranty expires. The 10 flat screens in
your example will not show one bad component. Instead, there will be
dozens, all different brands and values. This is not due to crappy
manufacturing, but rather due to careful selection for the MINIMUM
lifetime of the component.

That's an "honorable" American tradition that dates back at least a
century. The story goes that Henry Ford has his engineers buy and
disassemble scrapped Ford cars, to see which parts had failed and
which ones were still in good shape. He pointed out that the company
could often save money by redesigning (more cheaply) parts which
rarely failed... so the new versions would wear out and fail at about
the same time as everything else.

Much further back than that:

by Oliver Wendell Holmes (1809-1894)
Have you heard of the wonderful one-hoss shay,
That was built in such a logical way
It ran a hundred years to a day,
And then, of a sudden, it €” ah, but stay,
Ill tell you what happened without delay,
Scaring the parson into fits,
Frightening people out of their wits, €”
Have you ever heard of that, I say?

Seventeen hundred and fifty-five.
Georgius Secundus was then alive, €”
Snuffy old drone from the German hive.
That was the year when Lisbon-town
Saw the earth open and gulp her down,
And Braddocks army was done so brown,
Left without a scalp to its crown.
It was on the terrible Earthquake-day
That the Deacon finished the one-hoss shay.

Now in building of chaises, I tell you what,
There is always somewhere a weakest spot, €”
In hub, tire, felloe, in spring or thill,
In panel, or crossbar, or floor, or sill,
In screw, bolt, thoroughbrace, €” lurking still,
Find it somewhere you must and will, €”
Above or below, or within or without, €”
And thats the reason, beyond a doubt,
A chaise breaks down, but doesnt wear out.

But the Deacon swore (as Deacons do,
With an €œI dew vum,€� or an €œI tell yeou€�)
He would build one shay to beat the taown
N the keounty n all the kentry raoun;
It should be so built that it couldn break daown:
€œFur,€� said the Deacon, €œtis mighty plain
Thut the weakes place mus stan the strain;
N the way t fix it, uz I maintain,
Is only jest
T make that place uz strong uz the rest.€�

So the Deacon inquired of the village folk
Where he could find the strongest oak,
That couldnt be split nor bent nor broke, €”
That was for spokes and floor and sills;
He sent for lancewood to make the thills;
The crossbars were ash, from the straightest trees,
The panels of white-wood, that cuts like cheese,
But lasts like iron for things like these;
The hubs of logs from the €œSettlers ellum,€� €”
Last of its timber, €” they couldnt sell em,
Never an axe had seen their chips,
And the wedges flew from between their lips,
Their blunt ends frizzled like celery-tips;
Step and prop-iron, bolt and screw,
Spring, tire, axle, and linchpin too,
Steel of the finest, bright and blue;
Thoroughbrace bison-skin, thick and wide;
Boot, top, dasher, from tough old hide
Found in the pit when the tanner died.
That was the way he €œput her through.€�
€œThere!€� said the Deacon, €œnaow shell dew!€�

Do! I tell you, I rather guess
She was a wonder, and nothing less!
Colts grew horses, beards turned gray,
Deacon and deaconess dropped away,
Children and grandchildren €” where were they?
But there stood the stout old one-hoss shay
As fresh as on Lisbon-earthquake-day!

EIGHTEEN HUNDRED; €” it came and found
The Deacons masterpiece strong and sound.
Eighteen hundred increased by ten; €”
€œHahnsum kerridge€� they called it then.
Eighteen hundred and twenty came; €”
Running as usual; much the same.
Thirty and forty at last arrive,
And then come fifty, and FIFTY-FIVE.

Little of all we value here
Wakes on the morn of its hundreth year
Without both feeling and looking queer.
In fact, theres nothing that keeps its youth,
So far as I know, but a tree and truth.
(This is a moral that runs at large;
Take it. €” Youre welcome. €” No extra charge.)

FIRST OF NOVEMBER, €” the Earthquake-day, €”
There are traces of age in the one-hoss shay,
A general flavor of mild decay,
But nothing local, as one may say.
There couldnt be, €” for the Deacons art
Had made it so like in every part
That there wasnt a chance for one to start.
For the wheels were just as strong as the thills,
And the floor was just as strong as the sills,
And the panels just as strong as the floor,
And the whipple-tree neither less nor more,
And the back crossbar as strong as the fore,
And spring and axle and hub encore.
And yet, as a whole, it is past a doubt
In another hour it will be worn out!

First of November, Fifty-five!
This morning the parson takes a drive.
Now, small boys, get out of the way!
Here comes the wonderful one-hoss shay,
Drawn by a rat-tailed, ewe-necked bay.
€œHuddup!€� said the parson. €” Off went they.
The parson was working his Sundays text, €”
Had got to fifthly, and stopped perplexed
At what the €” Moses €” was coming next.
All at once the horse stood still,
Close by the meetn-house on the hill.
First a shiver, and then a thrill,
Then something decidedly like a spill, €”
And the parson was sitting upon a rock,
At half past nine by the meetn-house clock, €”
Just the hour of the Earthquake shock!
What do you think the parson found,
When he got up and stared around?
The poor old chaise in a heap or mound,
As if it had been to the mill and ground!
You see, of course, if youre not a dunce,
How it went to pieces all at once, €”
All at once, and nothing first, €”
Just as bubbles do when they burst.

End of the wonderful one-hoss shay.
Logic is logic. Thats all I say.