Monday, May 19, 2008

I want to be bionic.

A couple of weeks ago my brother and I were playing football with our women watching, which means that we were both trying to be manlier than normal. I swear that 98.6 percent of all human progress is made because somebody is trying to impress a member of the opposite sex. In fact, history shows us that Oppenheimer and the rest of the gang only worked on the Manhattan Project to try to win the affection of Beatrice Jenkins, a very lovely girl who was impressed by large fireworks.

So anyway, there we are on the football field, and I kick the ball to my brother, who starts running towards me like he's going for a last second touchdown. I, of course, can't let him score on me in front of my woman, so I took him to the ground.

And, unfortunately, he broke a couple of ribs. Whoops.

Now I feel bad. Listening to him huff and puff around the house has made me realize that we will talk about this for the rest of our lives, much like how we still talk about how my brothers got me to spill the beans and tell them what they were getting for Christmas when I was four. Soccer Boppers! Damn older brothers. I still have Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome from that.

Wouldn't it be great if we could all be bionic? As we get older we could have the parts of us that are failing or broken replaced with high tech "super-parts", and we could get stronger as we get older instead of weaker. Broken ribs? Slap in some titanium alloy replacements. Wrist gets sore from typing? Hello robotic gripper hand and super strength. No more trouble opening bottles! Eyes failing? Borg-ish enhancements should be able to plug right in and give older people hawk-like vision.

Need viagra? Doctors could...

On second thought, maybe I haven't thought this all the way through.

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