Also solves problem of people smoking or using cell phones while driving

Ford is thrilled to announce the latest of our fine environmentally-friendly products, the Gryn (GM already owns the conventional spelling of "Green"). The Gryn represents the ultimate in eco-friendly materials, an advanced carbon-negative drive system, and the most fuel economy of any car in America called the Gryn and manufactured by Ford right here in America-like regions of China. The Gryn is the most innovative product ever to bless the earth with its existence. Here are some of the ground-breaking (but earth-healing) developments!

The first thing our buyers will notice is the absence of hinged doors. Our studies found that door hinges constitute up to 0.034% of a car's weight and up to 0.53% of its drag coefficient. With the hinges removed, the Gryn enjoys an improvement in fuel economy you can only imagine! Entry into the car is made possible by the first major materials innovation in ten years: the glassless window. Drivers are liberated from the frustrating experience of having to roll down windows using the hand cranks currently in wide use by Ford, GM, and Chrysler, and they even are spared the risk of electrocution by the horrible "automatic" windows used in Japanese and Korean cars! Drivers also never have to worry about keys again, thanks to our doorless-entry system and the revolutionary powertrain and engine that gives the Gryn its green power.

Upon entering the Gryn, drivers may notice the absence of pedals, seats, or a steering wheel. We've hired consultants from Apple Computer to re-make the control systems of the automobile and do away with the cluttered and counter-intuitive controls that have marred generations of cars. We've used the same revolutionary system that made the iPod brilliant: the wheel. This propulsive technology has long been favored by hamsters, gerbils, and other creatures of super-human intelligence. The driver and passenger are both slung within ergonomic, round, circular, curved Eco-Wheels linked directly to the drive wheel (the back left tire) of the Gryn. The Gryn even gets the passenger in on the action, allowing the driver and passenger to work together to propel the Gryn to its truly disturbing maximum speed. Steering is enabled by the gimbals securing the Eco-Wheels in place. Simply try to re-orient one of the Eco-Wheels after spinning it up and angular momentum does the rest! The Gryn TryHugger premium model also includes a chart for working out the torque vectors and figuring out how twisting the Eco-Wheels will actually affect the orientation of the car. Our Gryn Sport model features heavy marble rims on the Eco-Wheels for added control and tighter cornering.

Speaking of which, firm and assured cornering are certain on any surface with the revolution in tire design perpetrated here at Ford. Normal tires are made of rubber, which sticks to the road but necessitates the killing of baby deer. The new Earth Whirl tires featured on the Gryn (and soon on all Ford vehicles) are constructed from the most eco-friendly material available: dirt. Simple yet elegant, the Earth Whirl tire is precision engineered from the finest Chinese and Mongolian clay. The tire is engineered to pick up new dirt on some surfaces and shed dirt on others, ensuring that, as long as the Gryn is driven off-road often enough, the tires are continuously rejuvenated! Our testers also found that the tires become sticky on wet surfaces, indeed "almost impossible to wash off," providing hereto unheard of performance in rainy conditions.

What about safety? Many fuel-efficient cars merely compromise safety to attain fuel economy. Not the Gryn! We've taken safety to levels not seen since the heyday of the American auto industry, specifically October of 1962. The frame is made of machined wood with a fire-retardant layer of tar and wax. Body panels are manufactured from recycled newspaper, organic starch, and natural springwater by Mrs. Norton's 2nd grade class. These panels are precision-engineered to crumple upon impact, channeling energy in one side of the Gryn, through the occupants, and safely out the other side. Airbags are available on premium models, along with foot pumps.

And yet, with all these technological triumphs, the Gryn still sets a new standard in style. Regrettably, photographs cannot yet be released for fear of Foreign Rip-Offs and Evil Competition in our Inadequately Tariffed World (and the Gryn seems to suffer damage from flash photography), but we assure you that the Gryn will change your perception of American cars forever. We began the latest version with the boxy configuration of such successes as the Scion xB and Nissan Cube and made the design bolder and boxier. The Gryn features 1904 vintage kerosene headlamps. Old prosthetic limbs mounted outside the driver's side window add style to signaling turns, and a variety of additional hand gestures are available at minimal extra cost for the discerning customer.

The Gryn also has the performance to match its appearance and is capable of running on anything the driver is willing to eat. Tester Mark Winningham managed to propel the Gryn 84 miles on the grease contained within a single order of McDonalds french fries, an astounding 57.3 miles per gallon. And the Gryn is perfectly adapted to the modern American's on-the-go lifestyle. The Gryn goes just as fast as you do!

What about cost? Well, thanks to generous federal subsidies and various death threats from the Earth Liberation Front should the price be too high, the Gryn is available for a mere $13,936, easily edging out such vehicles as the Toyota Prius, Honda Civic, and Ferrari Enzo, while consuming less gasoline than any of the above.

Slated for release in August, the Gryn will be available in one attractive designer color (that's Apple-style thinking again!) and later generations are expected to include cupholders and other luxury items. Buy a Gryn before they are all gone! We don't expect them to last long! Contact your local Ford dealer today to pre-order and sign the necessary releases.

It's very simple: just press "x" "triangle" and push the right thumbstick all the way to the left then depress it and hit "square" twice and...

Ah, video games. The source of joy for all mankind ages 8-29 in industrialized nations. But a few curious paradoxes present themselves in many of the most popular titles. Let;s break down some genre representatives.

Halo 3

This game is fun. It is also one of the few first-person shooters that is less violent than a good game of football. In fact the player's characters ("Spartans') look suspiciously like football players. More on that later. In the meantime, this game is easy to learn, easy to play, and fun. Unless, that is, you happen to be playing against people without social lives. In that case you will repeatedly be mowed down without fully understanding what just happened, especially with your competitors laughingly talking about "stickies" and "three-shots" and other esoteric phenomena. Just how I lose so badly is still beyond my comprehension. I'm supposed to find the other football players and shoot them if they are one color and not shoot them if they are another. There are obvious exceptions, though, because my own teammates often take me out, usually muttering something about "getting in the way." I am sure this is a specialized gaming term indicating that I am getting too good and must be kept in check. I explained this to them and told them to stop, but for some reason all they did was laugh and attach a plasma grenade to my Spartan's left knee. I have never seen a football player fly so far or fast...

Madden 2009

The football players in this game look just like the Halo people. I think some code was stolen at some point. I just wish there was more crossover so someone would take a rocket launcher to Brett Favre's avatar. Anyway, in the Madden games players get to watch football. Except that they have to call plays and stuff, which really cuts down on one's ability to focus on the munchies. Kinda defeats the purpose of football in my humble opinion.

The Sims

In this game, players get to control virtual people. I think they should just become an judge or a dictator or a mom and control some real people. It's less frustrating than figuring out the game menus.

Microsoft Flight Simulator X

This game could be more accurately termed "Horrible Death Simulator X" because of how many times new players usually crash. Incineration, head trauma, and "the hamburger pancake" are only a few of the options. By the time one figures out how to fly, all the fun has gone out of it. The game just feels too much like work. Specifically, it feels like the work of a professional airline pilot. More recent simulators feature month-long strikes until imaginary wages reach certain levels. The number of logos planes can display decreases as mergers decimate the competitive market.

Pac-Man

Still the best computer game ever devised, although River Raid comes close.

Not on a Grecian urn, thankfully

I have found a form of poetry I can appreciate! Enter the haiku, a Japanese structure consisting of a five syllable line, a seven syllable line, and another five syllable line. The following are my adaptions of needlessly long classical poems and a few of my own creations for our times.

Who is this Shakespeare?
Man with time but without wife
And so he remains

Shall I compare thee
Unto a midsummer's day?
Because thou art hot

We are hollow men
And therefore should eat dinner
Deep meanings aside

I find poetry
Resembles waterboarding
Except it is dry

I buy an iPod
Apple tax notwithstanding
It is soon stolen

Existentialism
I ask, "Who am I but me?"
Pointless exercise

Postmodernism claims
That this line has seven syllables
Think not? Go away

Blogging can be fun
But is often obnoxious
I conclude my post

There must be a more merciful way...

I just saw a news article on how Barack Obama's bow to the king of Saudi Arabia constitutes the end of all life on earth. Not so, only the end of some reporters' careers, but this close call with eternal doom has got me thinking once again about the end of the world. My list of doomsday scenarios continues with:

12. American Idol. This hit television show will result in the downfall of western civilization. How? Well, ninety percent of the population watches the show and persists in voting for contestants using cellphones. This is why, on the night of the season finale, cell phone providers will suddenly increase texting rates to as much as twenty cents a message. The ensuing phone bill--perhaps in excess of 14 quadrillion (yes, 15 zeros, count 'em) dollars--will upset the rotation of the earth.

13. Modern dance. Modern dance is perceived as a quirky or strange but harmless form of "artistic expression." What no one but a few elite medical professionals (by which I mean myself and my sister's pet rabbit) has realized is that "modern dance" is actually a highly contagious neurological disorder cause by a deadly virus. The virus multiplies in the nervous system, resulting in disconnected and jarring body motions, often accompanied by voting Democrat and crying for no reason. I should point out that not all cases of modern dance are caused by this plague, but all the ones caught on film probably are. When the disease spreads it will reduce earth to a realm of artsy flouncers. Our only hope is to revive the jig and Celtic music worldwide. The virus is highly susceptible to the sound of bagpipes at short range. The vibrations cause it to simply disintegrate. I wish that bagpiping had the same effect on:

14. Build-a-Bear Workshops. Build-a-Bear is a store where, for a mere twenty-five or so smackers, you can put the teddy bear together yourself. You can also purchase clothing, hats, shoes, and other simpering accessories for your ursine friend. What consumers fail to realize is that the warning not to expose your Build-a-Bear to the light of the full moon should be taken seriously. In order to succeed, the founders of Build-a-Bear struck a Faustian bargain with evil forces: they would enjoy unparalleled economic success and consumer gullibility, but the bears would animate when exposed to moonlight during months containing a, e, i, o, or u. Why is this a problem, you ask? Surely these creatures are cuddly and lovable? Normally, you'd be right. But there is no way of identifying gender on a Build-a-Bear. Which means half of them have been forced to wear gender-inappropriate clothing and perhaps even named "George" when "Clarice" would have been more fitting. I know I'd be ticked off when finally freed from my paralysis. The bear is in the home of his/her tormentors with access to power tools and maybe even old Beatles albums. Guess how many million Build-a-Bears have been sold?

15. Badgersbadgersbadgers.com. This website features endlessly dancing badgers you can watch for free! Forever! Workplace productivity has fallen 1.2 percent per month ever since this website went operational. Do the math. Our economy is doomed even if Barack Obama wakes up and smells the Marxism.

The good news, I suppose, is that there will still be cockroaches no matter what happens...

Who wrote this stuff?

Ah, old movies. Specifically, old science fiction movies. A good one has a few basic plot elements:

1. A brilliant but socially inept scientist who uses terms like "neutralization of mass." He should have glasses made from the glass bottoms of Coke bottles still available in the fifties.

2. A horrible monster. Giant insects are always a favorite, provided they don't break the movie's budget ($120, excluding the cigarettes everyone smoked back then). Carnivorous plants are better because you can get away with stop-motion animation. "Alright, Phil, now move the ivy a little further over the model of San Francisco." Alien robots are best because you can make 'em out of old milk cartons and talk about horrible alien weapons like the xenon-helium electron baryon ray pulse heat wave gun. It should look like the offspring of a stand mixer with an attitude problem and a .50 sniper rifle. It's waves/pulses/beams should be manually drawn on the film by a four-year-old.

3. Deep, thought provoking dialogue. "Oh no, I think it's going to eat the world." "If it reaches Los Angeles it will eat Los Angeles." "Millions are fleeing the doomed city/country/planet." "Gee, we really were thick, doing all those nuclear tests."

4. Special effects. Smoke is always useful, as are scale models. Just remember that a burning wad of newspaper does not look like a flaming planet. Also, stuff looks larger when slow motion is used. Rabbits scurrying through a model of a city can be turned into ponderous, thundering bringers of doom just by playing the footage at 1/4 speed. Oh, wait. Someone already tried that...maybe if they'd played "Eye of the Tiger."

5. Someone who looks kinda like Marilyn Monroe. She should end up with:

6. The hero. The hero is, ideally, six foot one, has dark brown hair (insofar as you can tell in black and white), and carries a lot of guns that don't work against the insects/plants/alien robots/giant rabbits until the scientist bails him out. I never got why the hero (instead of the scientist) ends up with the girl. Maybe the nerd in me is just jealous. Then again, I never really liked Marilyn Monroe.

So, let's break down an old sci-fi classic: Them. Them is a movie about ants that, due to nuclear testing, grow to abnormal size (think Rosie O'Donnell only with more human kindness) and proceed to kill and eat everything they encounter.

The movie opens with a little girl being found in a catatonic state in the desert. An eerie, howling wail is present in the background, indicating the Cubs have lost again. She is picked up by some kindly people in a car or plane or something (it's been ten years since I've seen this, okay?) and brought into town. Everyone wonders what happened to the people she must have been with, but all she ever does is flip out and start yelling about "them." This is where the movie gets its title. Clever, eh? I didn't think so either and I was eight. Cigarettes are bad for you in so many ways...

Anyway, a bunch of people on the outside of town are found dead looking like they've been attacked by giant insects. The townspeople are unable to figure this out even thought he ants left a business card on every table and a few Polaroids of themselves eating the deceased's belongings and legs.

Eventually, THE SCIENTIST is brought in, aided by THE HERO and escorted by his long-suffering daughter THE MARILYN. They find an ant and THE HERO blows it away with sustained fire from a Thompson that is apparently modified to accept five-hundred round magazines. His aim is terrible, but the sheer volume of fire was evidently sufficient. He then stares at this eight-foot long ant and asks what it is, confirming that listening to sustained gunfire without ear protection can also damage one's brain. THE SCIENTIST explains that it is a giant ant, earning him admiring glances from the townsfolk, who by now have figured out how to understand normal speech.

By the end of the movie, the ants migrate to a major city and are mowed down by machine gun fire. Life goes on, but the movie has proved its point: nuclear testing results in giant bugs and you have better odds of winning the girl if your brain is smaller the .45 rounds you lug everywhere.

Ah, old movies. At least they aren't new movies. But that, I'm afraid, is another post.

Recycling and the prospect of alien invasion

My sources (by which I mean the little voices) have informed me that the aliens are at it again. That's right, folks. Once again we face annihilation as a species. This case is peculiar, however. Previous means used by the alien horde have been comparatively subtle. This one is blatantly obvious. I wonder why I failed to notice it before. Recycling is evil. Follow carefully.

We begin with what recycling actually is: conversion of existing material into another usable form. This means that less production is necessary. Which means less production actually occurs. Thus the industry of Man becomes conversion of one substance into another, of McDonald's wrappers into newspapers, of plastic bottles into Tupperware. The impact of this is that Man eventually loses the ability to produce, to strip mine coal or pump oil or turn trees into houses or turn raw materials into massive directed energy weapons to engage the alien forces. We won WWII through sheer economic might and unrivaled production. The aliens will not allow us this strategy a second time. (That's right, a second time. No human has a mustache like Hitler's or Mussolini's.)

The effects of recycling reach beyond eliminating our ability to build directed-energy weapons. Even if recycling fails to completely supplant production the aliens are in excellent shape. Even a decline in production involves a decrease in the number of jobs available. Recycling jobs are all well and good, but most of them have already been claimed by robots and members of the Earth Liberation Front (often the two are hard to distinguish, but usually the robots are easier to reason with). The result, once recycling really comes into its own, is widespread unemployment. President Obama will respond by Creating Jobs and buying up the Legacy Assets (I kid you not, that's what he's calling toxic assets) because, as a lefty, that's essentially what he does. The ensuing economic instability will cause shortages and riots. Eventually America's (and soon the world's) population will be split into two factions: the robots and the Earth Liberation Front members (everyone else having emigrated offworld to escape the Congressional Hearings about how This Is Everyone Else's Fault and We Are Going to Frown Importantly Down at You and Watch Our Approval Rating Meters Climb Because of the People Who Are Grateful Not to Be the Targets of Our Multiple Chin-Quivering Wrath). The Earth Liberation Front will launch a savage attack on the recycling robots using eco-friendly weapons like sticks and dirt. Oddly enough, this will have exactly no effect. The robots will then begin converting ELFers into newspapers, Tupperware, and directed energy weapons. The aliens just have to do some quick reprogramming and they will have gained another planet. Not to mention a free, Energy Star-approved army of robots.

Is there a solution? Yes. Start suing your local environmentalist group for destroying the planet and/or conspiring to hand it over the alien forces. You'll be amazed at how seriously the courts take you.

My computer crashed twice while I was writing this...

I like computers. Really, I do. But I just don't understand some of their...eccentricities. Imagine if today's operating systems were cars.

Windows XP

This is a Volkswagen Microbus fifteen feet long with the engine of a Pinto. It's large, wobbly, cartoonish, and seems to heavy for the available power to move it an inch. Upon entering the vehicle we find large, squishy seat cushions in primary colors. They are actually quite comfortable once one overcomes the sensation of returning to kindergarten. Time to drive. Insert the key into the ignition and turn it. Three to five minutes later, the engine starts. Now gently press the accelerator. Nothing happens. But what did you expect? We need Service Pack One. Time to get out and push. After four hours of painful dragging, pleading, shoving, we manage to navigate the Macrobus to the Microsoft dealership. There we receive Service Pack One: 15,000 pounds of armor plate to protect against attackers. The engine now gives a sort of feeble moan when started. But not to fear, Service Pack Two has been released! It strips off the 15,000 pounds of armor plate and installs 15,000 pounds of Kevlar. Also included are extra rubber bands for the engine.

Windows Vista

This is a slight upgrade. Vista is a conversion van. It is painted an attractive designer color and has a smooth, understated interior. Lifting the hood, however, reveals that the engine in encased in a solid block of epoxy to prevent any amateur mechanics from tinkering. The overall effect, though, is rather better than XP. Now turn the key. A light comes on in the dashboard. "Are you sure you want to turn on Vista?" Hit yes. Five to eight minutes later, the engine starts. Now look at the gear selector. Your options are Documents, Pictures, Music, and Games. Click Music. The little light switches back on. "Are you sure you want to listen to music?" Hit yes, maybe a bit more firmly this time. It opens Windows Media Player, or WMP. If Iraq had been discovered to be developing WMP, Obama would not be President. Microsoft can get away with it. But your Vista system was not really meant for playing music or typing documents. No, it exists mainly to update itself. You can't turn in on, turn it off, or touch it without having to visit the dealership for chunks of armor plate until the smooth, designer interior looks like the inside of a blender full of random nuts and bolts. Even then, it asks, "Are you sure you want to attack your computer with an axe?" "Are you sure you want to withdraw the axe from the keyboard?" "Are you sure you want to prepare to swing again?" "Are you sure y--"

Mac OS X

This is a shiny white Lamborghini Murcielago. It's fast, pretty, and no one else you know owns one. Upon entering the vehicle, we find that the seats automatically adjust, the mirrors change angle, and the engine starts, emitting a low, powerful hum. You begin to pull onto the highway, anxious to put the car through its paces, only to be informed that the interstate is not Mac-compatible. It turns out that only 4.5 percent of roads in this nation will allow the use of your Lamborghini. Even more disturbingly, the car seems to drive itself. Everything happens almost magically and without clear input, although your checking account seems to be empty and mine is swiftly draining. It's been fun, but it is also time to move on to Linux. The doors will not open. The locks close again as fast as we can open them. Once you buy a Mac and "experience" it, there is no escape. Luckily for you, I remembered to pack an acetylene torch.

Linux

I'm not yet sure what the Linux car is, because all we currently have is two tons of assorted parts and assembly instructions derived by consensus. Its incarnations range from a Corvette to a Beetle. Thanks to my prodigious programming and system design skills, ours is a bird fountain with three awkwardly positioned wheels.

You'll note that the software industry is not receiving a massive bailout. Perhaps they are just not worthy. But I suspect that the government still uses a single, enormous, convoluted abacus.

But wait, there's more!

I hate infomercials. So I wrote one. I will give five dollars to whoever convinces Billy Mays to actually do this.


"Hi, Billy Mays here for UberOxiDiciPutty, the solution to all your household, global, and spiritual problems!" Random hand gestures that imply he is wearing invisible handcuffs and trying to stab you through the television screen.


"UberOxiDiciPutty is a Scientific Discovery made Right Here in America by German Engineers using Japanese Electronics and assembled by Swiss Craftsmen from Genuine Components." More gestures. The television creaks ominously.


"Do you have leaky pipes? UberOxiDiciPutty is the solution! Just apply it!!!!! So easy this untrained, unpracticed child can use it!!!!!!!!!!!!" Enter a frightened looking seven-year-old. She keeps glancing offstage, as though her parents are being held at gunpoint until she fixes the pipes.


"Here, Mandy--"


"I'm Stephanie."


"Whatever, brat. Now watch as Melanie mends those pipes in a snap!" The camera zooms in extremely close to the pipes so only Stephanie's hands are visible. They seem oddly large, hairy, and professional looking. The hands throw some UberOxiDiciPutty at the pipes. They stop leaking.

"And just like that Melanie fixes the pipes!!! Wouldn't you like to be able to fix your pipes?" Stephanie begins crying. "What's this? UderOxiDiciPutty can fix that!" Billy splatters approximately a kilo and a half of noxoius UberOxiDiciPutty into Stephanie's eyes. Her head bursts into flame. Parental voices cry out, followed by a scuffling noise and a warning shot.


"And just like that, UberOxiDiciPutty quiets upset children!" Stephanie manages to plunge her head into the tub of water awaiting the laundry demonstration.


"Why thank you, Melanie!!! I almost forgot!!! Even though I'm reading from a teleprompter!!! UberOxiDiciPutty is to stains as Rosie O'Donnell is to a buffet!!!" He grabs a pile of shirts that look like they've been home to a family of sick badgers for a few years. One of them is actually oozing something that looks suspiciously like warm roofing tar. Billy throws the entire pile into the water.


"Now watch the power!!!! Just one scoop of UberOxiDiciPutty can clean all of these clothes!!! They will look like new!!!" He tosses another handful of crud into the water. Smoke and steam erupt from the surface. A terrified badger scrambles out of the tub, it's fur falling out even as is mauls a cameraman. Billy pulls out a shirt, apparently from immediately behind the tub. It is gleaming white and has a faint halo of light surrounding it. He hastily yanks off the tag.


"Just like new!!!! No, it's better!!! This shirt is now imbued with the strength of UberOxiDiciPutty!!!! We stitched together a parachute from shirts treated with this amazing substance!!!" A skydiver leaps out of an airplane. We briefly see a parachute of shirts opening above him. The camera cuts to a skydiver standing on the ground, grinning. He gives a thumbs-up. He is wearing a different color than the diver who left the aircraft. The audio is indistinct, but screams are just discernible in the distance.


"And that's not all!!!!!! UberOxiDiciPutty offers the perfect means to prepare for inlaws and family get-togethers!!!" Camera cuts to a woman snickering as she balances a bucket of UberOxiDiciPutty on top of the front door. "Let's hear her mention my cooking now," she cackles. The ceiling over the bucket begins to blacken.


"Order now!!! $19.95 will get you a full tub! Two more payments of $19.95 will get you a tub full of UberOxiDiciPutty!!! But you must call now!!! Now!!! Now!!! But wait!!!! We will include, free, a set of premium asbestos cleaning gloves with a lifetime warranty!!!!!" Billy Mays passes out from lack of oxygen. His hands continue to gesture, causing the TV screen to crack. A small drop of UberOxiDiciPutty falls from the table and lands on his head. A faint sizzling noise begins. The badger, now completely hairless, darts over and begins to eat one of his hands. Stephanie throws a bucket of UberOxiDiciPutty over both of them. The result, ranking among the greatest moments in television history, levels most of southern California. She deserves a medal. She needs a wig.