Well, it is the year 2004, and I’m still riding around in firmly grounded cars like a chump. I am truly disappointed with the 21st century, which is nothing like TV shows and movies led me to expect. I do not have a personal robot performing all the tedious daily tasks that I should not have time for what with the bustle of intergalactic warfare and the colonization of the moon and Mars. I am also still forced to make dietary decisions all by myself, without the aid of a charming but feisty robot maid or a pill containing all the nutrients I will need for the day.

2001: A Space Odyssey taught me that at the very least, there should be giant babies floating through space and evil computers that get their kicks releasing astronauts into the cold vastness of outer space. I always figured that I would get along quite well with these evil computers, as I would be totally happy letting them have all the power, while they took recommendations from me on candidates for what we like to call, “solitary space exploration.” Remember when you made fun of me in third grade? Yeah, see ya, fool. So you can see why I am sorely disappointed that 2001’s projected technological advances have yet to present themselves.

The Jetsons led me to believe that flying cars would be the norm by now, and that rather than have to get myself up in the morning, my alarm clock would simply force me out of bed and proceed to dress me and brush my teeth for me. Believe you me, I would go out and re-take the driving test if we had flying cars. I would even practice this time, and it’s possible I might even pass that test. And that convenient automatic dresser-teeth-brusher thing; well, I think we can all agree it’s time to end the painful procedure of getting up and functioning all by oneself after a long night of homework or heavy drinking.

I don’t know about you, but even the future projected by The Matrix seems pretty sweet to me. Serving unconsciously as fodder for super-robot-types seems a small price to pay in return for a fake but quite pleasant fantasy world filled with attractive people like Keanu Reeves and Carrie-Anne Moss.

And what about The Stepford Wives? I don’t know about your mom, but mine could sure use a replacement in the form of a delightfully polite and servile robot-housewife who cooks and cleans like it’s her highest aspiration. Forget this “problem with no name” crap. Not satisfied with your lot in life, feminists? Send in the robots!

I’m on a roll here. What about all the fruit that still has seeds? Can’t we do something about that? I thought we were getting somewhere with the watermelon, but it seems that was just a sneak preview of a time I’ll never see. That is, unless I freeze myself rather than die. And according to Austin Powers, cryogenic freezing of oneself should have been feasible back in the 70s.

I’m nostalgic for things that never came to pass. I guess I’m just a product of our modern times, influenced almost entirely by television and movies. You know, thinking about the world that never came to be really gets me down sometimes. At times like these, I thank God for the two good things to come out of this god-forsaken “future:” Anti-depressants and higher-purity illegal drugs at lower street value.