Good technology, bad judgment

In 2009 certain Volvo models will offer to massage your back and blow on your butt while you drive. Just the thing to help out toward the end of a long drive, when your back is most likely to be sore, and your eyes want to close, a nice little massage would be just the thing, right?

Rear-view cameras so you don't run over Rover? Great. Automatic parallel parking (not on the Volvo, which will be busy blowing on your nether regions)? Great. Ports to plug in your MP3 player, built-in GPS, DVD players and screens in the back seat, real-live plugs to plug in your gadgets? All great.

Things that actually help keep the car upright and on the road? Great. Not as cool as the GPS and the rear-view. But still great.

Massaging the driver while the car is in motion? No.


On the other hand, when I'm jumping lanes at twice the speed limit, wind in my hair, bugs in my teeth, tiny little helmet perched ineffectually on my head, screams of startled motorists echoing in my ears as I blow by, stretched out over the tank of an overpowered superbike, organ donor card signed and safe in my wallet, I'm not worried about an involuntary dismount. I'm thinking about the inconclusive evidence that exposure to the electromagnetic fields generated by the engine might increase my risk of prostate or colon cancer.

Thank god someone worried about the real risks of motorcycling has developed a bike seat to shield your bits from an EM field that's completely different and more dangerous than those generated by your phone, your microwave, your laptop, monitor, TV and electric lines in your house.

Maybe if it could give a little massage or nice cool breeze.

Book handles? Bad enough Amazon wants us to pay $400 for a display screen with less going for it than the laptops or iPods or phones or handheld games that could all display large amounts of text with no problem. Now we need accessories for actual paper books.

This video, on the other hand, totally rocks, or did, once I realized the legs were part of the robot, not half a homeless person. Completely pointless, as far as I can see; purposely, elegantly pointless and therefore fully justifying its own existence. Until it caught fire and exploded.

Nothing's perfect.