Death Wishes

What is it about men and our apparent ability to forgo logical thought because we think something sounds like it might be fun. This product for instance, raises alarm bells from sixteen states away and yet, and yet, I am still ever so slightly tempted. Because, it's a jetpack, man! I've been promised a jetpack since I was a wee tyke and I'm still waiting (along with flying cars, robot maids, and a meal in a pill, though in retrospect, the latter is not really high on my list anymore but still).

The idea that someone has cobbled a jetpack together in his garage workshop seems a bit chancy I will admit. And the fact that it will require an hour to cool down after a couple of short flights, okay, a bit of a limitation. Still it's only a few thousand and god knows people spend more money than that on sillier ways to kill themselves like ATV's or eating KFC.

Damn, okay, it turns out it's a fake. I guess I'll forgo tempting the fates a while longer. Someday though, like Icarus, I will fly too close to the sun. Or trip over a small yappy dog, do a face plant in front of a speeding ice cream truck, and buy the farm that way. Which seems much more likely.