3 Exciting New Technologies to Expect in 2015

Quick. What's the best part of the body to use for identification? If you answered with 'fingerprint,' than congratulations! You, sir or madam, are behind the times. What the cool kids are using now is a device that scans the veins in your finger. This technology, aptly named Finger Vein Authentication Technology, reads the squiggly purple spiderweb that is your vein pattern. And it's actually more accurate than fingerprint scanning. 

"But...the guy before me was scratching his asshole with the same finger!"

The first application for this tech will be used in banking. All you do is stick your finger in a hole, it's scanned, and viola! It identifies you, bypassing the need for PINs, passwords, and authentication codes. This will be of tremendous value to the people who keep forgetting if they capitalized the 'a' in their password 'Pus$ySlAyer69.' 

So, which titanic moneygrubber will be the first to release this tech to the public? Is it the national Bank of America? The guardian of the secret Coca-Cola recipe, SunTrust? Maybe it will be the prolific Wells Fargo? Nah, dawg, it's Barclays, the London based financial company that has metastasized throughout the world. First, their 30,000 corporate customers will get to stick their filthy fingers into it before the mainstream customer base gets their turn. 

Hopefully, it won't take too long. It will be especially useful in retail. There's only so many times that one can handle the shame of trying to discretely buy a dildo but failing to enter their PIN properly due to a sudden case of Alzheimer's that forces you to hand the dildo over to the cashier with your head ducked in shame and walk out the store dildoless. 

"It's precisely three times." 

The heart. We all have one. And by "we", I mean everyone except murderers, sexual offenders, corrupt politicians, used car salesmen, lawyers, money-hungry corporations, and that one old scientist guy on Fringe in that weird-ass episode where instead of a real heart he had a heart made of glass. 

Seems legit. 

That glass heart, however, managed to beat on its own, even though it was fully synthetic. What's crazy is that this technology, conceived on a Sci-Fi show, is actually coming to life. 

Alain Carpentier, a French Professor, engineered a fully self-regulating heart in 2013 and implanted it in an old Frenchman. And, it worked! 

Carpentier isn't the first to design an artificial heart, but he is the first to create a permanent one that is fully automated, thanks to sensors that adjust the pulse rate, and a biosynthetic skin that prevents blood clots. 

Moving us ever closer to a cyborg reality, the heart will hit the market sometime in 2015. So, 20 years from now when your heart croaks from all the Big Macs you've been eating, you can just pop in one of these bad boys and continue on your Big Mac eating ways. What do you care? Your cyborg heart sure don't. 

 

"Inject that shit intravenously, bro! Those pansy arteries will have a field day!"

You can go ahead and buy one now if you need it. But, keep in mind it will cost you roughly the same as a new mortgage: $190,000 - $250,000. 

Just as Ferdinand Magellan was the first to circumnavigate the world by boat,  the team behind Solar Impulse will be the first to do so with a solar powered plane. Luckily, the craft only has room for one, so the chances of there being a mutiny or two, like with Magellan's trip, are pretty slim. As slim as this thing's body. 

 

"Wow, you really let yourself go, Boeing!"

Though it has a wingspan larger than that of a Boeing 747-8I, it's body is significantly smaller. The total weight ends up being no more than 2300 kg, or the same weight as that Ford Mustang the neighborhood douche drives.

What they promise with this craft is the ability of continuous flight, having no need to stop and refuel, since the source of its energy is constantly glaring over it like that perverted teacher from high school that always looked down the girls' skirts when their pencils dropped to the floor. I can tell you this much: he didn't look like sunshine.

 

 

"Hey! You can kiss my grits!"

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Hey, did you like this article? Try 3 Spooky Instances of Animal Premonitions

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Psychic Animals? 3 Spooky Instances of Animal Premonitions

 



If one were to make a list of the ten best reasons to GTFO, tornadoes would fall somewhere between an asteroid impact and a bag of literal shit about to hit your fan. What I'm saying is, it's up there. And these Golden Warblers sure knew it. 

"That's a nice fan you got there. Be a shame if I pooped on it."

Back in April, the Tornado Alley got an ass whooping. A whooping that cost $1bn in damages and 35 lives. During that month, 84 tornadoes landed and sprawled across the ground, doing to the earth what a kid with a hair blower could do to an ant hill. Redecorate it. And by redecorate, I mean....

 

"Honey, just think of it this way. Now there's room for that shoe closet you always wanted!"

Apparently, five birds had read the GTFO list and knew that it was time to bail. They left their nests like they had just been evicted and flew south approximately 400 miles, getting themselves out of the line of fire. One day later, the tornadoes hit their neighborhood. We know this information thanks to a team of scientists that placed trackers on the birds, five of which were used in their measurements. 

How did the birds know? They heard the distant rumble of tornadoes that were happening hundreds of miles away. I repeat: hundreds of miles away! To put that into perspective, you weren't even able to hear that used dildo salesman coming up from behind until he was already poking you with one of his products as part of his sales pitch. 

 

"What's the big deal? I wash them all by hand!"

The tornadoes were emitting infrasound, which occurs at a pitch way below what the human ear can detect. That range is between 20-20,000 hz. Infrasound occurs below 20 hz. Supposedly, the birds heard this low pitch and flew like hell. I like to imagine that whatever infrasound noise the tornadoes were making sounded a lot like the #1 reason on the GTFO list: dubstep.

I once ate an octopus. It was in the form of a sushi roll and had the vague resemblance to a tumor cut out of Lance Armstrong's testicle and wrapped in seaweed. I think the consistency would be roughly the same as well. The only thing I learned about octopi that day was that they do not belong in my mouth. Ever. Where do they do belong, however, is as my superhero betting sidekick that helps me predict the next winning sports team. 

 

"That was my cousin, Larry, you just ate! Fuck your sports teams!"

Meet Larry's cousin, Paul, a psychic octopus that received worldwide recognition when he successfully predicted the outcome of 8 matches during the 2010 World Cup. Housed in an aquarium in Germany, Paul would be presented two boxes with a tasty mussel in each. Each box bore a national flag of the competing teams. Whichever box he picked would be the team he predicted would win. And, testifying that we all live in an episode of the Twilight Zone, the team he chose actually won. Keep in mind that the mussels were in glass boxes, so he could not smell them. Meaning that he did not choose based on which smelled tastier.

Paul had an 8-0 record. His odds of a correct prediction each time were a measly 1 in 256. How da fuq? Is it really just coincidence that he picked the right box eight times in a row?

So, a member of Steere House Nursing and Rehabilitation Center in Rhode Island has an almost perfect record of predicting patients' deaths. He will go to their rooms and remain on vigil, bearing witness to their final hours. He has done this fifty times over the last two years. His accuracy is so spot on, that the staff will alert patients' families that death is imminent. His name is Oscar, and he's a goddamn cat. 

They managed to get this shot roughly two seconds before he puked a hairball.

Like the great majority of cute, furry demons, Oscar is antisocial. He paces the halls and avoids people. Well, most people. Rather than chill with us living and breathing folk, Oscar hangs with a much more niche crowd: the soon-to-be-dead type of crowd. But, he doesn't just hang out with them. He remains by their side, only stepping out for two minutes at a time to grab some Kibbles. Because nothing works up an appetite like watching Dear Aunt Jessie croak. 

The scent of death really adds to the flavor.

Are we supposed to believe that this cat is psychic? A doctor that works there, Dr. David Dosa, actually wrote an entire book to prove he is. 

 

  

He does manage to offer a sciency explanation. Oscar may have the ability to smell ketones, a type of biochemical that is released by dying cells. If enough cells are dying, such as in the case of a person about to croak, the scent hits Oscar and he comes around. Dr. Dosa, however, is not able to prove this ability. It is an educated guess at best. Meaning, there is room for me to offer my own educated guess. Oscar does no predicting. Oscar does what all demons do. He eats souls. Specifically, the souls of all those patients. I'm on to you, Oscar. You can't fool me with that cuddly fur coat!

"You off to do another 'prediction?'"

"Yesss. All of them. All their souls. They shall all be mine!"

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