I want a pair of wired granny panties that come with earbuds to track my pulse, hormones, fluids and temperature. The earbuds would whisper messages like…
Imagine grocery shopping on your hands and knees, walking home, and making dinner on your kitchen floor. My knees hurt just thinking about it.
I know I should fear an algorithm that doesn’t know the difference between rugs and shoes, but I’m addicted to eye candy.
If toys are templates for developing skills and behavior, what was the lesson I was supposed to learn from Betsy Wetsy?
If Einstein needed Botox to get a job, the Allies might have lost WW2, My Favorite Martian wouldn’t have been in prime time, and Dick Tracy would have been talking into his necktie instead of his wristwatch.
Ward Cleaver would have had a heart attack at the breakfast table if June had said, “Ward, I’ve been thinking. Now that Beaver and Wally are in school all day, I’d like to have sex with other men.”
Now I’m trying to picture Marlo Thomas with hairy legs and I can’t do it. Long leg hair in sheer stockings is like vacuum packed seaweed.