Read Uncle John’s Bathroom Reader Weird Inventions Online
Authors: Bathroom Readers’ Institute
Uncle John’s Bathroom Reader Weird Inventions (27 page)
A
larm clocks are jarring and annoying, and they brazenly remove us from the deepest sleep. They’re a tool we use to wake ourselves up and stay on schedule, but it’s extremely easy to turn them off or hit the snooze button if we don’t like waking up at the time we’ve told them to wake us up. The morning battle with the alarm clock is a low-stakes game of man vs. machine, and man will always win.
Unless, that is, the man (or woman) is honest enough with themselves about their snooze-button addiction to buy Clocky. An alarm clock outfitted with two small baby-stroller tires, Clocky rolls off the night-stand and onto the floor at the pre-set alarm time, and it’s up to you, in your just-awakened state, to it track down, somewhere in the bedroom and turn it off. And then you’re up for good.
Clocky was invented by MIT graduate student named Gauri Nanda, who was inspired to come up with a better alarm clock when she was once two hours late for a class because she repeatedly hit her snooze button. She needed a challenge that would make her spring from her bed and wake her up with some activity. Nauri ultimately designed Clocky for an inventing class.
T
he Chicago Protector Palm Pistol.
This gun was disk-shaped, so it looked like a ladies’ compact and could be hidden or overlooked in a lady’s hand, like a ladies’ compact. This seven-shot .32-caliber revolver had a small barrel sticking out of one end and a squeeze trigger at the other end. (The bullets and hammer were inside the disk.) When trouble threatened, it was easy to palm the gun, with the barrel poking out between the index and middle fingers. To fire the weapon, all the user had to do was squeeze her fist. Nearly 13,000 of the guns were made in the 1890s. (Today they’re worth $2,000.)
The Frankenau Combined Pocketbook and Revolver.
In 1877 Oskar Frankenau of Nuremberg, Germany, received an American patent for a four-shot revolver concealed in a special compartment of a 4” × 2½” metal (but leather-clad so as not to look weird) purse-style pocketbook. All a lady had to do to use it was release a hidden trigger on the bottom of the purse and fire away. According to Frankenau, “The advantage of such a combination for travelers and others will readily be perceived, as it forms a convenient mode of carrying a revolver for protection, especially when attacked, as the revolver may be fired at the robber when handing over the pocket-book.”
B
y the mid-1960s, the Big 3 networks—ABC, CBS, and NBC—had nearly completed their gradual transition to broadcasting in color. Not that everybody had a color TV yet. Heck, not everyone even had a TV yet. Millions of people weren’t ready to spend another few hundred bucks (in 1960s money) on a color TV when they had only relatively recently bought a black-and-white one, also for hundreds of dollars in 1960s money.
The cheap, bordering-on-low-rent solution: the Instant TV Color Screen (cost: $1). Just place it on a black-and-white TV screen and enjoy instant color. Too good to be true? Of course it was. It was a multicolored sheet of thin, clingy plastic. The sheet was separated into four bands: blue, orange, yellow, and red. The manufacturer promised that the human eye would blend the four colors and create the illusion of color. It didn’t work. It made whatever was in the orange panel look orange and whatever was in the red section look red, and so on.
B
aseball players have long worn mouth guards. For hitters, especially, a rubber or soft plastic oral appliance can provide a little extra protection and reassurance, with a 90-mile-per-hour fastball zipping dangerously close to one’s face. But never before has a mouth guard actually helped to improve a batter’s swing. Never, that is, before 1999, when a patent was issued for the Batter Biter.
The Batter Biter may look like an oversized infant’s pacifier, dangling from a short cord that clips onto a ballplayer’s jersey. But when properly used, it not only protects the batter’s teeth, it also prevents him from turning his head, forcing him to keep his eye on the ball. By enforcing correct head positioning, the Batter Biter subtly reinforces proper body mechanics, giving hitters an extra edge.
The funny thing is, it might actually work. Baseball players are notoriously superstitious about hitting streaks. The great Wade Boggs ate a chicken dinner before every game to produce hits, while slugger Jason Giambi would don gold thong underwear to break a slump. The Batter Biter might conceivably give a similar psychological benefit, although it is awfully silly looking (albeit not any less so than a gold thong).
T
he idea of “dog years” is a simple ratio: Dogs live to a maximum of about 16 years, and humans live a maximum of 100 years or so, so this shorthand equates one calendar or “human” year with seven “dog years.” It’s not quite precise, but it helps all of us feel like our dogs live longer than they actually do.
But what about the dogs? Surely they are just as concerned about their mortality as we are about their mortality. With that in mind, in 1991 inventors Rodney Metts and Barry Thomas patented an alternative clock they called a “clock for keeping time at a rate other than human time.” In short, the watch takes the concept of one year equaling seven dog years and extends that all the way down to seconds, minutes, and hours. It presents time in a way your dog can understand…if your dog can tell time, that is.
H
ave you ever woken up in the morning and felt so lazy that you had absolutely no desire to cover up your naturally occurring, deeply offensive body stench, but still had just enough energy to eat some candy? Sure, we all have!
Thanks to Deo Perfume Candy, however, it’s now possible to do the latter and still achieve the effects of the former. Available in regular and sugar-free varieties, Deo—which tastes like tangerine but contains a heaping helping of rose oil—utilizes the same biological principle which causes you to stink like a brewery the morning after downing a 12-pack of your favorite beer, but in a far more fragrant fashion, literally making your perspiration smell like flowers. It is probably worth noting, however, that Deo also necessarily contains geraniol, one of the primary chemicals in rose oil, which has a disconcerting tendency to attract bees. So, unless you have a profound desire to get stung, you may find it in your best interest to bypass the deodorant candy in favor of just getting your lazy butt out of bed and taking a shower.
BETTER LIVING THROUGH LAWN MOWING
I
n 2002 the German garden equipment maker Wolf-Garten introduced the Zero, a mower that cuts grass with lasers instead of blades. It’s outfitted with a computer-guided array of four powerful lasers capable of cutting grass to an accuracy of 1 mm A stream of air then dumps the zapped blades back onto the lawn, so as to become super-futuristic mulch. The mower comes complete with a leather seat and WiFi, and costs $30,000.
But the future of grass-cutting isn’t all high-tech. While some scientists prefer the space age power of lasers, others prefer the agrarian competence of farm animals. Scientists at Australian National University have figured out a way to turn the grass-hungry power of rabbits into a viable mowing product. Introducing the Rolling Rabbit Run, the world’s first lawn mower powered entirely by rabbits. Constructed from bicycle wheels, chicken wire, and buckets, the device is basically a cylindrical rabbit cage that rolls around on the lawn as the rabbits eat the grass and fertilize it “naturally” (with their poop). Perfecting the mower took a little longer than expected because scientists couldn’t get the rabbits to roll the cage on their own, because they’d used one male and one female rabbit, who kept giving up the grass to do the thing that rabbits famously do a lot. (In the new-and-improved version, two male rabbits are used.)
W
e know you’ve been dying to break out your favorite pair of roller skates and boogie on down the sidewalk. Unfortunately, it’s not the 1970s anymore, so put them back in the closet next to your platform shoes with aquariums in them. If only there were some way skating could be updated and made cool again, right?
Well, at least one inventor gave it a shot. Their solution? Full-body armor and lots of extra wheels. Like, 26 wheels in all. We’re speaking of Robo Skater, which isn’t nearly as neat as it sounds. Rather than some kind of robotic servant powered by roller skates, Robo Skater looks like the brainchild of someone who watched way too many episodes of
American Gladiators
.
In addition to the expected wheels on the bottom of the boots, Robo Skater’s body armor is outfitted with wheels on the toes, elbows, bottom, back, chest, and hands. It seems likely that this product was designed for some bizarre sport competition that never materialized. It seems even more likely that the poor souls who test-marketed Robo Skater found the extra wheels helpful for when passing gangs of teenagers took the opportunity to push them down the nearest hill.
G
LH Formula Number 9 Hair System.
Popeil’s baldness cure is really just temporary spray paint. (“GLH” stands for “great-looking hair.”)
Inside-the-Shell Egg Scrambler.
Popeil came up with the idea for this gizmo because he’d always been revolted when he would get a plate of scrambled eggs that weren’t totally mixed, with the egg and white ribbons running concurrent. So he invented this motorized needle that fits inside of an egg and whips everything together, so you can crack it into the pan and make scrambled eggs the right way.
Mr. Microphone.
You might remember the ad for this from 1970s television: A carload of guys passes a lovely lady listening to a radio, through which the driver broadcasts a message from his handheld microphone: “Hey, good lookin’! We’ll be back to pick ya up later!” Mr. Microphone allowed a user to broadcast their voice over any FM radio—it was simply a very-short-range radio transmitter that would take over an FM signal… sort of, with lots of interference.
Smokeless Ashtray.
A tiny battery-powered vacuum would suck in the smoke given off by a cigarette placed in the ashtray, then trap the smoke in a charcoal filter hidden inside.
V
irtual reality? Oh, please. That is
so
passé. The preferred terminology to those in the know now is
augmented
reality, and the folks at Canon are doing their darndest to take the concept out of sci-fi films and bring it into the business world. What they’re offering isn’t a dream world, just a heightened version of the real one.
To experience Canon’s MREAL system (that’s short for “mixed reality”), you need only slip on the headset, which features two cameras, one in front of each eye, so that it’s able to capture precisely what you’d be seeing if you weren’t wearing the headset. Having done so, it then creates a 3D image which it combines with its own computer-generated material, resulting in an image which is equal parts real and fake but is hopefully accepted more as the former than the latter. Canon describes the device as producing “clear, solid-looking images with low distortion, reducing the impact of optical aberrations, even in peripheral areas, and further enhances the realism of the experience.” Setting aside the technical gobbledygook, it’s clear that Augmented Reality, while currently intended to help consumers imagine how, say, a piece of furniture might look in their home, is destined to end up being used for far more sordid scenarios. Either way, it’s not likely to happen until the pricetag comes down considerably from its current $100,000 point.
