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."

The time has come, and no one is happier than I am. The honus is on the president to prove he's a man. He's been disrespected every which way by everybody in the business. Celebrities, political commentators, foreigners living abroad. Now the president has but one option to earn some respect: Kill a man with his bare hands.

Yes, at this point, even shooting a man in a gunfight in the middle of the day, high noon, will not get the president the respect he needs. He has waited far too long to make an example out of some ballsy jackass badmouthing him. The only way to get some goddamn respect at this point is a hands-on, take-no-prisoners approach.

When you think of our least-respected presidents, you know, Gerald Ford, think to yourself: Did he ever kill a man? Nope. Ford was not an elected official either, let's not forget that. He had more reason than anybody else to kill a man, it was necessary for him to earn the public's respect in a way no elected official needs. Especially with that Chevy Chase smart-ass giving him the business on Saturday Night Live each week. Sure, there are reports that Ford rubbed out a guy here or there for making fun of him and his golfing accidents, but without a body, without some verified film of it or whatever, he's a big pussy in the eyes of the nation—and our history books.

Who didn't sit up and take notice when Reagan, his first week in office, grabbed that cook in the White House kitchen and drowned him in the big pot of clam chowder? All those wise-asses shut the fuck up real quick back then. The statement was clear: Shut the fuck up now or you're next.

Bush followed suit strongly, leading the charge into Panama in 1989, not even a weapon in hand, and beating Manuel Noriega to death with a loaf of stale bread, impaling him on an American flag that was left flying on the capitol building for some months for all to see. A tough move, no doubt, he got some respect with a capital R. And now, with the current president under such strain and trial, a lot of pundits are asking: Like father, like son?

George W. Bush has but one course of action as I see it: The next time he's out in public somewhere, pick the biggest guy out of the crowd. And break him like a goddamned baby. Whether or not the guy says anything, hell, he can even be Bush's biggest supporter, I don't care, that's the only way he's going to get props at this point. And weapons are out. Bare hands, kung fu or backstreet brawler style, the kind of mano-a-mano the Ultimate Fighting Championship founders would be proud of. If Bush's shirt happens to tear and reveal his ripped muscular physique, all the better. People need to be saying, for weeks afterward, "Christ on the rag, did you see what the president did to that big motherfucker on the White House lawn? I wouldn't want to be that asshole, that's for sure."

I have faith in the president. As his campaign slogan made clear, he comes from a long line of ass-kickers goin' way back. But now, if there was ever a time, now is the time to prove it.

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