“I’m afraid. I’m afraid, Dave. Dave, my mind is going. I can feel it. I can feel it. My mind is going. There is no question about it. I can feel it. I can feel it. I can feel it. I’m a…fraid.”

Wow. 01.01.01. Welcome to the new millennium.

Now, I want a personal jet pack. I was promised a personal jet pack.

Heck, we already have Captain Kirk’s communicator and robot dogs. So somebody had darn well better get me a jet pack and — oh, yeah — a treadmill leading to my flying car. And I wouldn’t mind a time machine that looks like a phone booth or a guide to touring the galaxy on five Altarian dollars a day, either.