You want to kill him, of course. But might there be a better, less directly homicidal way to solve the problem?
A new product, called "Apoptosis," might be exactly what you need, and it should arrive just in time for the holidays. The word "apoptosis" comes from biology: It means "programmed cell death." (Biologists
have found that many cells are "programmed" by their DNA to die after some particular span of life.) Apoptosis -- the product -- is a new piece of hardware from WormWare Productions, the same outfit whose popular Stochastic Cleaner software was recently chronicled in this column. Like all WormWare products, Apoptosis costs $4.95.
What's so wonderful about Apoptosis? Simply this: It disconnects any cell-phone call within earshot of you. Apoptosis has an effective range of 15 feet -- wide enough to get the job done, tight enough that it won't disrupt the phone connections of innocent neighbors.
Apoptosis is small and inconspicuous. It fits on a keychain. It looks like a worry bead. When someone nearby starts to gab, gab, gab on a cell phone, you simply adopt an innocent facial expression, squeeze your little "worry bead," and instantly see your wish come true: The jerk's cell-phone connection dies.
True, this product is the subject of various lawsuits, but they won't go anywhere. The telecom
munications companies love Apoptosis. Each broken connection means that yet another call will be placed, racking up yet another lovely (from a telephone company's point of view) connect charge. The telecommunications industry is already making billions from this humble product. Look for it to keep putting up token legal protests for the sake of looking like a "responsible corporate citizen." But don't expect it to press even a single case toward completion.
What's our final verdict on Apoptosis? Thumbs up, bigtime. It benefits the common man and costs just $4.95. And it's so satisfying -- your neighbor's irritating conversations will end never with a bang, but always with a frustrated whimper.
Techno-Styles of the Rich & Famous
Many West Coast techno-millionaires spend their time looking for conspicuous ways to flaunt their wealth. The latest in profligate spending is called "Failure Mode Sprints" (FMS). On the first Thursday of every other month, the techno-gilde
d geekillionaires buy all the latest hardware and gather to stage a competition. They measure how long (in nanoseconds) various systems run after a fire hose is trained on them. At last month's FMS event, the hoses squirted Jolt Cola instead of water. The total bill for the day ran in excess of $26.2 million, and most of it was charged to "Corporate R&D." Such hubris, such corporate hosings, surely bode ill for what was once such an innocent -- and wholesome -- industry.
Lament for Nano-Programmers
Our psychological profile of nano-programmers inspired this plaintive note from a director of software engineering: "It is said that nano-programming requires a different mind-set than anything that came before it. Our experience bears this out. All our nanoprogrammers are under the age of 9. They drink enormous quantities of soft drinks, and they pull down an average salary of $370,000 a year. If you think their income seems outrageously high, keep in mind that their skills
will become obsolete before they reach high school."
Marc Abrahams is the editor of the Annals of Improbable Research. You can contact him by sending e-mail to
marca@improb.com1
Advances and Retreats in Computing
