he invention has been creating a buzz around the world before it was even revealed. Its inventors and investors guaranteed it would be the next big thing. And it’s finally revealed—the Segway HT, or Human Transporter, and it will forever change the world. Especially America, where Americans are barely walking on their own feet or engaging in any natural cardio exercise at all. The Segway HT promises to reduce American voluntary movement by up to 100%.

The Segway was invented by Dean Kamen, and its being hailed as the world’s first dynamic self-balancing human transporter.

In a recent commune poll, when asked about the major problems facing their lives, most Americans responded, in popular order: Terrorism, natural biological illnesses such as cancer and AIDS, lack of income and jobs with high mobility, medical insurance skyrocketing, the uncertain global economy, and random slasher murders. “Walking� received less than 1% of the poll, outranked by waking up nude outdoors and alien invasions.

Through a technology coined Dynamic Stabilization by the Segway LLC company, gyroscopes and tilt sensors calculate the device user’s center of gravity 100 times every second, adjusting accordingly and creating a sense of balance that makes the Segway safer to use than, say, a skateboard or surfboard with wheels. The device is also constructed to sustain the weight of fat people, who will likely be the first major market of the product outside of industry.

The Segway HT is now available for corporate and industrial usage in plants and offices, and will likely make its way to the general consumer by 2002, though those who use the product are expected to be subject to severe ridicule until the Segway HT implants itself in the consciousness of all America.

Once available, the Segway HT will retail for approximately $8,000. In contrast, even most expensive brands of shoes retail for less than $100.

If the device becomes a mainstay of American culture, for use beyond just yuppies and trendy pricks, scientists predict a drop in pollution, an average weight gain of over 80 lbs. per person, and the blood of Americans to contain about 40% butter.

oung musician and published author Jewel surprised few Friday when she revealed she's battled with pretension all her life.

"It's not something you want to admit, even to yourself," Jewel said in her calm, waterfall-like voice at a press conference Friday. "Your soul is kind, gentle, and without acclaim, and then tiny threads of a black spider wrap you up in pretension. It is a disease of the fiercest… uh… pony."Friends and confidants knew for years, yet kept her secret because they thought Jewel could handle it.

"The next thing I knew," said Bill Barber, a session player and friend, "she was on VH-1 against a white background reading snippets of poetry like she's a supermodel Maya Angelou. That's when I knew she had no control of the problem."

Even then, all were reluctant to speak up for fear of damaging her career or their own. An attempt at an intervention in March of 2000 disintegrated into a hootenanny and Native American bonfire ritual, and several members walked out nearly as pretentious as the one they came to help.

"Pretension is sometimes hereditary, but more often results from years of unearned attention festering, cultivating itself into the bacteria egous extremis," stated Dr. Simone Callow, Professor of Pretentious Studies at Columbia University. "Often through no fault of their own a victim can start out a perfectly healthy human being, and then before you know it they're taking themselves so seriously they're publishing their own autobiography, or accepting awards for ridiculously minimal accomplishments."

Pretension, though often confined to those with higher-income households without geographic boundary, is unfairly distributed throughout Hollywood and the New York art scene.

"There's no telling how many have it in Hollywood," Dr. Callow said. "When you pay people millions of dollars for doing virtually nothing, it makes for a breeding ground for pretension."

Jewel herself, recently releasing the new album This Way, has halted tour plans to check into the Martha Stewart Clinic For Pretension in Connecticut in hopes of treating her condition.

"A dark spot has begun to wander across my heart," she said with stilted, distant voice. "Until I corner this blemish, collect it in my cupped hands and whistle it away to the wind, I cannot share my gift with the world."

"In the glory days of childhood I could sit for hours and stare up at the sky, provided it was dark. I would count the stars, lose count, start over from scratch, lose count again, swear very loudly, give up, and just look at the moon.

An acquaintance of mine, Arch Hofstetter, would laugh rudely when I said one day we'll colonize the moon. He told me we'd never step foot on the moon, which I argued with. I had imagination and optimism, hope for the future. I told Arch surely one day science would be advanced enough to take a man to the moon. Again, he assured me:

'We'll never walk on the moon. I bet you a million ka-billion dollars.'

Later, Arch and I were stationed together in the final days of World War II. Just lying on our backs in some cold German minefield, afraid to move for getting shot, and we'd lay still and lazily talk about the moon and the stars. I talked about rocket propulsion and nuclear weapons, telling Arch someday mankind would get to the small gray orb floating over our heads.

'Trust me, we'll never walk on the moon. I bet you a million ka-billion dollars.'

Well, next time I saw ol' Arch Hofstetter was 1969, roughly September. He was getting out of a taxi and I was getting in, one of those strange coincidences perfect for anectdotal stories.

'I suppose you saw the T.V.? Read the newspapers?' I asked him with smug confidence. 'We put a man on the moon, Arch. I knew we could do it.'

Naturally I didn't expect Arch to get out a check and scribble in 'a million ka-billion dollars' or anything, but I didn't appreciate his reaction at all when he said: 'All I said was that we'd never get to the moon, Sampson, you and me together. I never said nothin' about other guys.'

I hate when people do that!

Arch Hofstetter died about a year later. Doctors say it was a bad heart and unhealthy lifestyle, but I think he realized we still had a good number of years left in which I could've found a way to get to the moon and dragged him, even involuntarily, and there ain't no way he could afford a million ka-billion dollars for a lousy bet."

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