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If I pedal quicker and feed it spinach, my robotic barman might pull more pints

If I pedal quicker and feed it spinach, my robotic barman might pull more pints
Something for the Weekend, Sir? Help me up, would you, luvvie? Like any child of the Sixties, I dreamt a future of spaceships and robots, not of fat-arsed celebs, whinging royals and the manipulation of the feeble-minded by nationalists whose wealth accumulates off-shore. After growing up, I looked back to realise I had been dreaming…

Something for the Weekend, Sir? Assist me up, would you, luvvie?

Like any child of the Sixties, I dreamt a future of spaceships and robotics, not of fat-arsed celebrities, whinging royals and the control of the feeble-minded by nationalists whose wealth collects off-shore. After growing up, I recalled to understand I had been dreaming in sci-fi cloudland during the horrible occasions of the era: the Vietnam War, race riots, Watergate, the oil crisis, and Jimmy Savile providing Top of the Pops

The horror.

It wasn’t all bad. The moon objectives marked my creativity into reality, as did the eventual creation of smart devices. I had actually dreamt of one day having my own Star Trek communicator, you see. While friends from better-heeled families than mine would get walkie-talkies for Christmas, I would make do with my Papa’s disposed of cigarette boxes– the prototypal flip phone.

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Not sunshine, moonlight or great times– blame it on the buggy

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Obviously now we’re all connected on our mobiles.

Robots are currently here however just recently are they getting robotty enough for my tastes.

So I was over the moon to read this week about a British operation that has actually developed a “robotically optimised bartender”.

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I love the idea of all that innovation, all that brain power, all that standing on shoulders, is leading us into a brave era in which I can be served cocktails by ED-209

To arrive, I have actually now reached an age where, they state, one grunts when standing and whispers “nyaaaah” when taking a seat. That’s the theory, anyway. I evaluate my development along life’s journey of decrepitude by the content of targeted advertising. I do not imply digital advertisements, by the way, as they are constantly bonkers thanks to a little mischievous data misdirection, an activity that amuses me.

No, I imply direct mail that gets here through the letterbox.

This year, I was tracked down to my brand-new house and began getting the notorious Modern Guy brochure in my preferred new language.

Still, absolutely nothing rather ready me for what I received this week …

Zimmer frames in mail order catalogue

I’ll take the one with racing stripes please

Look down the bottom right of the photo and you’ll see they likewise attentively consisted of an advertisement for walking sticks. This indicates once I can no longer control the hoist to raise me approximately my zimmer, I will still have something with which to beat myself to death.

I do not believe I’m all set for a zimmer or a stick. Maybe I will not even reach that age however you never know. When I was more youthful and had adequate hair to spike, imaginative types still had the act of courtesy to pop their blockages at precisely 27 years old. These days, boomers fully anticipate to remain forever and consider it worthy of a public questions must they be cruelly ripped from their households while still in their prime in their early 90 s.

If I do get that far, I’m hoping by then zimmers will have been replaced by another of my dreams of the future: powered exoskeletons. I would be completely delighted to get brochures filled with Gundams and Appleseed-like choices.

The nearby I can get at the minute is the commercial Mate exoskeleton or the low-end equivalents created to assist nurses move morbidly fat bastard clients between beds. Mate will be releasing a new design next week so I’m crossing my Meccano digits it’ll make its way into L’homme moderne

Anyhow, the zimmer brochure sufficed to frighten me back to the gym … not that it is possible to go to a gym at the moment. Second lockdown implies numerous types of keeping healthy are either dissuaded or illegal. In France, right up till this weekend, you can be fined greatly for running more than 10 minutes in a single instructions from your front door. And you require to bring ID and an attestation— a time-stamped authorization kind mentioning your factor for bold to breathe outdoors– to reveal gendarmes who were drawn in by your loping running design and wish to have a laugh at your hair band and leg-warmers.

2nd lockdown has been an excellent chance for some. A baker in northern France began selling baguettes covered in attestations instead of plain paper or plastic, and found that customers who used to turn up two times a week were now going to daily.

Supermarket chain Monoprix even started taking the piss out of the arbitrary governmental guidelines on what amounts to essential and non-essential items. For instance, clothing for babies is allowed throughout lockdown, however other clothes is not. If you visit a Monoprix before Saturday, you’ll see a check in the clothing aisle: “Clothing for kids under 3 years of ages are thought about important. Other children are prompted to stop growing.”

Also considered non-essential are baby feeding bottles. Monoprix signs checked out: “We must have been cautioned to stop making babies during the first lockdown.”

In the end, I invested in an indoor exercise bike.

I’ve even become aware of research study that included using spinach as a precursor for high-performance catalysts required for the oxygen decrease responses in fuel cells. A mix of lots of indoor cycling and usage of spinach might leave us rather saddlesore but I’m willing to give it a go. If it’s excellent enough for Popeye, and so on


robot bartender

By the time they open bars once again in France– late January by the look of it– I will no longer be able to sit on a bar stool without stating “nyaaaa” or more likely shouting “fuckingshitbuggeration”. That exoskeleton might come in real convenient.

ED-209? Mine’s a pint of IPA, ta.

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Alistair Dabbs

Alistair Dabbs is a self-employed innovation tart, handling tech journalism, training and digital publishing. He has actually found that the indoor exercise bike counts calories at the very same rate despite which level you set the resistance. This is excellent news as it implies he can take it easy throughout workout for a change. More at Autosave is for Sissies and @alidabbs

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