Wires are only good for tying up your loved ones, and slowly spanking them. In my future, there is no place for those easily-tangled bastards outside of eroticism. Apple feels me! Apple feels me! A new patent of theirs outlines the future we’ve been waiting for, a future replete with wireless charging.
New science-technology wizardy has revealed that we begin our slumberous swagger all up in our mother’s guts. For reasons they’re still trying to figure out, Scientist Wizards have observed a soon-baby yawning. Ain’t easy coming into existence. It’s exhausting.
I’m all for progress. Science. Medicine. Don’t get me wrong. I just don’t know how I feel about unleashing a robotic snake in my body, even if that swag is under the guise of eradicating tumors. Eh, who the hell am I kidding. I’d probably get off on it. I’m freaky like that. How you doing?
Isn’t much time until Caprica Six is launching nuclear strikes and boning wily, narcissistic scientists. Researchers have found a way to grow human flesh around all sorts of technology. We’re talking nanowires! Pow! We’re talking transistors! Pow! The future isn’t arriving, it is here. Eating out of your refrigerator and casting uncomfortable looks at your Mom’s legs.
Apple has snagged up a security firm who is fat-gutted on a glut of patents. I’m sure their evil maestros could barely contain their priapisms and sloppy loins when they finished this deal.
Researchers have drummed up this fantastic way to get around eye-scanning security systems. Let’s see if you can understand exactly how they do it, because it makes my skull all sorts of shades hurt.
One day some brilliant biophysicist was hanging out at the New England Aquarium when he thought something I would have never dreamed. Dude said to himself, “I can build a jellyfish”, whereas usually I’m like “man…the fish, they like, swim. Really well.”
Key phrase: “help prevent” HIV infection.
Hey, this is totally awesome. We’re going to be able to store data for millions of years on these neat sapphire discs. Nothing will ensure our shame like when the Martians return, wondering what the fuck happened. They’ll spin up these discs, and see us fat, bloated, and giggling at cats on YouTube.
I don’t know if it’s going to be prostrate cancer, or Diet Dew-chemicals induced brain cancer that knocks me off the top rope. I don’t know which one shall do it. However, I’m glad that there’s all sorts of wonderful medicinal technological wunder-things arriving into the world to screen my dumb ass when the day comes.