WELL, Jeff? I'm waiting.
If you never heard of Jeff Bezos before last week, I bet you know his name now. On Sunday, the CEO of Amazon.com unveiled his version of the Brave New World: little unmanned drones that will deliver five pounds or less of purchases from Amazon to your doorstep in thirty minutes. Now, the more cynical types in the blogosphere accused 60 Minutes, who broke the story, of playing right into the hands of the Amazon marketing geniuses, especially since Bezos admitted that the drones are actually years away from flying, AND the story aired on the eve of Cyber Monday. Those cynical types say that this was nothing more than a brilliantly executed PR stunt to boost Amazon's sales. And those cynical people, who have marketing and journalism degrees, and facial hair, are probably right. But they are missing the point:
Jeff Bezos is actually GEORGE JETSON. He has come from the future in a flying car. And I want one.
Okay, Jeff/George. Your secret is out. We're onto you. Thank you for coming back from the future. You've given us technology and gadgetry that make our lives way more interesting and fun, with the possible exception of Candy Crush Saga, which I think we all could have done without. But you're holding out on us, and this crazy idea of delivery drones is the smoking gun.
First of all, Jeff/George, allow me to briefly explain why hundreds of buzzing little delivery drones is a horrible idea. I shall confine my argument to my home state of Texas, where we have a vigorous belief in the Second Amendment. Almost everybody here is packing heat, and not everybody with a gun has the time or opportunity to get to the gun range or the skeet field on a regular basis. Now, with your wacko idea, they won't have to. All they'll have to do is order a $5.99 paperback book on Amazon, walk outside their front door, lock and load, and wait for your drone. They'll get a nice book AND a moving target, and then they will stuff your little drone and mount it over the fire place.
Sounds crazy? Jeff/George, I have actual friends who are, at this very moment, counting the days to drone delivery. Because they have already created a drinking game called Drunk Drone Tag. The way it's played is, a group of friends begins drinking at three in the afternoon. About 5pm, they begin ordering stuff from Amazon every thirty minutes or so. With the firearm of their choice, they wait for the drones to approach. Whoever drops the drone first wins, and everybody else has to drink. (The winner drinks, too, because he or she is the winner, and should be allowed to drink if they want to. I didn't say it was a well-thought out game. But you see my point, yes?)
Think of the carnage, Jeff/George: an American landscape littered with the metallic remains of thousands of flying drones. It'll be just like The Terminator, except hopefully without all the human skulls and giant, people-murdering robots. (Please tell me that's not the next technological innovation from Amazon; even I know it's not good business to murder your consumer.) And it's all so unnecessary, especially since it's obvious that the technology for these things is based on the flying car you arrived here in, THAT YOU ARE SELFISHLY KEEPING FROM THE REST OF US, JEFF/GEORGE. Instead of delivering to the American consumer that which we have been promised since the 1960s - a real, actual flying car, that makes that cool, futuristic motoring noise - you tease us with the 21st century equivalent of the Flying Monkey, which we are just going to shoot out of the sky anyway, because we are drunk and angry about no flying cars.
Maybe you think we're not ready for flying cars, Jeff/George. Maybe you envision teenagers playing "Chicken" with their flying cars, or people who drink too much (not me, of course, but I'm told some people do that) crawling into their flying car after an evening bender. Maybe you have visions of "Air Rage," with angry flying car drivers literally trying to ground each other permanently. Perhaps all you can see in your mind's eye when you think about a world of flying cars is nothing but a perpetual rain of hot, twisted metal falling out of the sky. And you may very well be right.
But this is America, Jeff/George. We live in a country where a man is free to write a blog post suggesting that the CEO of a Fortune 500 company is actually a futuristic cartoon character from an animated series that aired in the 1960s. And we live in a country where some guy with internet access and no common sense might read that blog and go, Hey, you know what? This guy may be on to something. In short, Jeff/George, we live in a country where the bullshit I have been writing is PLAUSIBLE. Yes, we're crazy. But we want our goddamned flying cars. So you can give us what we want, OR...
Who's up for an afternoon of Drunk Drone Tag?
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