In origins I was not in existence; this tube based system required manual assistance. Then a clicker came by, connected by string; until infrared changed the scene. My onomatopoeic name changed to this singular six letter answer, all about control.

I can't catch a break. Nobody likes me, even people who like the color blue. Even when I was Great, people hated me. People are constantly pushing me down - so to speak - and ignoring me, though I never let them forget that I'm always here, waiting to remind them of their failures. Probably the only people in the world that benefit from me are pharmaceutical companies and therapists. FML.

In Victorian times, men used to lay their cloak over me, so women could step down from carriages without ruining their shoes or dress. What am I, that, when stepped in, will make a mess?

I’m small and round with a heart of stone. On tables I gather, in groves I’m grown. Squish me to gather my liquid gold. A sign of peace from scripts of old.

I can be a great work Or a child's view of cheese. A gentle starry night, Or clocks melting on trees. I'm hung for all to see, Bringing some to their knees.