I’m perpetually a bit disappointed in the world we live in today. I still get sick (including at this very moment, as I cough up a lung and seemingly have the immune system of a Haitian blood transfusion), I can’t eat healthy but delicious food in the form of pills, I still have to do most of the monotonous things people had to do decades ago. I guess what I’m saying is that I’m really not getting any of the pleasure from this hydraulic penis that the spam email promised me. “She’ll love your big pleasure drill,” said Babirye Barnard. “Melt her icy love glacier now,” he said. Oh, the sweet sweet lies I so desperately wanted to believe, as presented in the form of misspelled emails.

[via]

I don’t know how I feel about this. We’re pretty lazy already, I can’t imagine that making it so we have to do any less is actually going to be good for people. Most of America seems one PE class away from completely bedridden obesity, let’s not tempt fate shall we?

Plus I don’t know that I trust technology that much. What if I say “directions,” like the lady says in the video, and my house robot thinks I said “erections.” If I have to deal with a barrage of robot penises thrusting into my face, I don’t know what I’d do. The last time that happened, they had to fire the person dressed up like Rosie from The Jetsons at Universal Studios.

YES! Soon I will be flying my way to work, leisurely soaring above the world while drunk off of the magic of aviation. Also, rum and cokes. But while this flying car is awesome, more importantly, it’ll open a window to get all kinds of exciting new technologies that we’ve been promised for so long. Teleporters that won’t merge my DNA with a fly’s! Treadmills in the clouds that I can get stuck in, rolling around indefinitely until my wife Jane can stop it! ROBOT WIVES!

I’ve known love, friends. From real women, dolls, chimpanzees with lustful eyes. But no sensation will compare to the joy of inserting my genitals into a vagina fashioned out of a bladeless garbage disposal. Dare to dream.