I feel like having a green car today…

On Mondays, I want my car to be red
On Tuesdays, I want my car to be orange
On Wednesdays, I want my car to be yellow
On Thursdays, I want my car to be green
On Fridays, I want my car to be blue
On Saturdays, I want my car to be indigo
On Sundays, I want my car to be violet

By 2010, all I will need is one car. As they’ll have on the market a paint job that can change the color of your car at the touch of a button.

And of course…the paint job I suspect could be applied to other things as well…though it will have to be something that an electric current passes through.

Before the bodywork is covered in paint, it receives a coating of special ‘paramagnetic’ iron oxide particles. The small crystals within the iron oxide particles change its alignment when a current passes through it. Consequently, this results in a change in the way light reflects off its surface.

0 thoughts on “I feel like having a green car today…

  1. DL Emerick

    Mood-stones make-over and move-over!!!

    But, can you imagine the burden on police forces — as they will be forced to retreat in APB descriptions of vehicles under surveillance!!!

    Color would no longer be a primary visual clue — and saying model/make stuff is not as much of a clue, for the “visually” oriented police” “Beware of {color-deleted} van moving east on the Santa Monica {Lewinsky (give-it-away-for-)}Freeway…”

    It has long been a contention of mine that, while justice is alleged to be best when it is blind (and, maybe, deaf and dumb as well), the police are not. The police are supposed to bve precisely what justice is never allowed to be. The police are supposed to be all-seeing, all-hearing, all-intelligent (if we mean, by that latter term, spying on everybody to catch the smallest clues of the most minor crimes and most innocuous of offenses).

    Driving while black, driving while shaggy-headed or thick-headed, driving in any car, of any color, puts you out where the police can see you.

    Now, instead of car-color, if I could change my hair, eye, skin color as easily, and my hair length, clothing, weight and height, and so on — in short, if I could be the PERFECT CHAMELEON, then how could the police ID me?

    Color is just an illusion to a reality that does not exist, independently of you: the perception.

    Ah, the real ID technology is insidiously coming to you, sooner than you think.

    Uniquely coded, body-implants with GPS-transponders — databanks on you — yes, all the data banks on you being who you are — the registered offender — registered before you offend, so that when you do offend (and you will, for what man is perfect?), nabbing you will be no problem. There is a cell waiting for you — but it doesn’t have your name on it — just a number, and not even a number that you call your own, if you wanted to be so weird.

    You can’t run, you can’t hide, you can’t escape:
    your days are numbered as well as color-coded.

    Isn’t that what every law-and-order knuckled-headed, bone-headed truncheon wielder of the law – say, Joe Biden or the Hillary — keep promising us: a perfection of the Police State?

    For, if you examine, say, the Hillary, you will find that her only real complaint about the W is that the W bungles the execution of what she would do more perfectly, if not flawlessly.

    The War in Iraq? The Hillary would have won it by now, even if she had to take the lives of a million Iraqis and spend $2T, to boot.

    Health-care? The Hillary would have you paying for the profit-plus contracts she would hand out to her favorite big-box drug-stores; health care would be dispensed from drive-through MD offices. “Please pay at the first window, then drive forward to the next window and stick out your tongue, please!” Or, “drop your pants and turn the other cheek toward us…” Oh, and by the way, she wants “the shirt off your back, when she gives it to you in the shorts…”

    Corporate malfeasance? Environmental damage? Trade agreements that take what was mostly your product, once upon a time, and give you back the diluted chance to buy back what you used to make, but slightly cheaper, with dollars ever harder to come by, in your own life?

    Education, to marginally improve your remote chances of earning a meager salary in a job that will not last more than a few years of your adult life? Please — who buys such fairy-tales!!! What happens when your education becomes antique, a few years after college? Well, join the line into unemployment — go get some more education and training, boy — for the next job, slightly lower on the pyramid. Then, repeat this process several more times, before you get too old to work, enbding on the bottom of the pyramid, at the end of your career, “so-called”. We could even give you a “Lifetime Achievement Award” in Education that went nowhere.

    Is it any wonder that Man now believes in Lotteries far more than he does in God or such corrupted Democrats? And, it is far, far cheaper to believe in God, or fairies, than in such loathsome NeuDemocrats — who would be called Republicans in any other age, or if any journalist had an objective standard for judging such matters.

    “Just put some money in the envelope, please — we can work things out — but every hot economy runs on cold cash — the grease between the hard surfaces that reduces friction, and makes all resistance futile.” That’s what they are telling us.

    The Hillary can even change colors faster than the hypothetical car.

    We will know when there are alien life forms among us. More critically, we will know whose life form each image is. But, sadly, we won’t care about you, as a person, unique and valuable, but think of you as a number, waiting to be called and served.

    That’s the warp-and-woof of the Clintonian NeuDemocrats. I despise and fear them. They have no color at all; drained of blood — they do not even show up in mirrors. They suck.

    Ah, was all this called for, this rant, when new toys fascinate little boys like me? No, I’m not the Pied-Piper, with a troop of little boys and little girls trailing him, leading them to some hole in the mountain. But, whenever I find myself amused by some new technology promising me some tomorrow that will never come, with the happiness that I thought would be mine, with it, then I try to be firm and resolute.

    I try to say: “new toys become old toys.” I want to get out of the old-toys-network. I want to find happiness, unaided by any sense of what I own.

    Show me, as I am from Missouri, how to find happiness that’s not just a flash-in-the-pan!!!


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