Someone named P. Marchio filed this patent for a “banana extractor and ice cream injector” in 1932. What a wonderful idea! Unfortunately, there’s no evidence that this was ever actually made, nor is there any sign that a banana with ice cream in it will ever replace the classic banana split. [via Gizmodo ]

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1932 banana-ice cream injector patent

Yes, this ad shamelessly rips off Levi’s . Yes, the concept is silly. But, man, do I love it. Apparently much more so than our friends at Gizmodo and Gadget Lab, who aren’t too keen on the notion of catching a laptop in your buttocks. Lighten up, fellas! In fact, go watch some Tim & Eric (NSFW). [via Gizmodo via Gadget Lab ]

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Why I’m Buying An MSI Laptop

Matt Buchanan at Gizmodo already hit the nail on the head with his spot-on assessment of the N97: Nokia is doomed . So I won’t spend much time shooting a dead (well, dying*) horse dead-er, but having manhandled the N97 for a few weeks, I’ve also got a few thoughts. First off, I’m no fanboy. But I have been seduced by some of Nokia’s handsets. I carried the N82 for a year. At the time, Symbian felt utilitarian and easy to use. The 5 megapixel sensor, xenon flash and Carl Zeiss optics were pretty stellar. So much so, I used the phone as my main point-and-shoot on a trip to Japan , where I snapped some reasonably ok pics (not amazing, but good enough). I carried the N95 for a spell in 2007. Same deal. Solid hardware. Ahead of its time. And like a lot of us, I started scratching my head about when, how, and if consumers (and cell phone companies) in the U.S. would ever see the light. Sure lesser offerings from Nokia have been entirely forgettable. But that’s besides the point. When the company swung to the fences, Nokia tended to deliver. That said, I couldn’t wait to get my hands on the N97, the company’s first legit touch screen. Well, here’s what I found: 1) A clunky touch screen interface that merely mimics a non-touch OS . The Pre, iPhone and G1 all require the user to speak in elegant gestures that, in turn, make you feel elegant. Quick flicks, simple pinches, and de-pinches that are &mdash forget easy and practical &mdash actually FUN to do. The N97, on the other hand, offers no magic. If you want to scroll through your contacts on the iPhone, you press and drag, and watch the list rapidly flow before your eyes &mdash then bounce when it hits the bottome. With the N97, you’re stuck dragging a clunky nav bar or holding your finger in one spot (top, bottom) to get the list to scroll. 2) The hardware is both lackluster and not the least bit luxurious . The mostly-plastic frame makes the phone decidedly lightweight (a plus), but the hinge &mdash as several reviewers have noted &mdash is a little awkward to us. Same with the relatively cramped, too-minimalist keyboard, which I never really mastered or cared to. The more I handled the phone, too, it started to feel cheap. Less like a flashy status symbol, and more like a basic, no-frills handset I got with an upgraded contract (unfortunate, considering that’s far from the case). Evoking the word “cheap” is shameful for any product that boasts a price tag this high (see below). 3) $699?! (now reduced to $629). Nuff said. *Nokia’s profits are dropping faster than a virgin’s pants at a free brothel**. **Feel free to out-analogy me in the comments.

Excerpt from:
Review: 3 Reasons Why Nokia’s N97 Is a Bummer

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AT&T astroturfers invade twitter, whine about gadget blogger

Illustration by Rob Beschizza When Brian first brought his iPhone home, it was like he’d taken a mistress. All day, all night, he fondled its touchscreen and gawked at its shiny face. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of it for more than five minutes at a time. Like a good Japanese girlfriend, I let him get the lust out of his system instead of trying to stop the inevitable. I pretended not to care while he lay in bed smoothing his finger across the unlock bar, and sat stoically at the other end of the dinner table as he and the iPhone whispered sweet nothings to each other. B: This is so awesome. iPhone: Click click click click. I get it. It’s exciting to be in love with something new. But after several months of this, I started to question whether something was being lost because of my boyfriend’s intense iPhone infatuation. Did we still have stuff to talk about other than new apps and ATT’s shitty cell phone signal in our neighborhood? Was I just hating because I subconsciously want an iPhone, too? After he got over their initial honeymoon phase, we decided to lay down some ground rules. It took nearly two years to figure out the right balance, but I think we’ve finally got it down. Rule #1: It’s not romantic to have an iPhone in the bedroom. Brian once said that every time he goes online, he feels like he’s meeting a bunch of friends. Well, I don’t want a bunch of friends in our bed. He tried to use the “my phone is my alarm clock” excuse, but it was worth investing $10 in a cheap alternative at Walgreens not to have a phone in the bedroom, especially one that commands so much attention. Rule #2: It’s not cool to invite the iPhone over for dinner every night. This one’s a bit tricky, because as much as I despise sitting at a table with someone who is tinkering with his phone the entire time, anything longer than a half hour without it makes Brian antsy. It’s a delicate balance. I usually let a short half-minute peek slide every now and then, so he can scratch what itches. I don’t mean to sound like a luddite. I also like to send text messages and check email during the randomintervals in my life. I just think that for a relationship to work, we can’t forget to make real human connections, especially in bed or over a good meal. Advisor is a new weekly column about how to juggle technology, relationships, and common sense. Got a story to tell? Email it to mango [at] tokyomango [dot] com.

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Advisor: The case against iPhones in the bedroom

John Mahoney’s article about a meeting with famed audiophile Michael Fremer is wonderfully written. In fact, it’s the most effective pro-audiophile piece I’ve seen in years. He went in skeptical and emerged a believer, even after hearing the telltale hiss of dead technology. That it’s a well-crafted piece is what makes it so sad to read: his hypothesis is that even if normal people can’t appreciate what makes ultra-expensive gear special, audiophiles can. This is a myth, and to honor it like this is to sell it. His tests, of course, were entirely subjective. Mahoney’s conclusions emerge with an unremarkable discovery–that a 256kbs MP3 played on an iPod doesn’t sound as good as a well-kept vinyl record on high-end gear. It moves on in steps, however, toward serious discussion of the differences between varieties of thousand-dollar power cable and Flatland-like descriptions of the amazing aural world of the audiophile. I’ve met Fremer, just once. He’s a a nice chap who sincerely believes in the technology, unlike some of the people who sell it. But Mahoney’s journey from skepticism to poesy shouldn’t surprise you, because it’s how music store salesmen have been “turning” skeptics since the beginning of time: establish a difference between shit and sugar, and then say “But if you pay more, you get more sugar. Are you sure you can’t hear it?” The hard part in making sense of this is in challenging what we understand to be reasonable. When you think you hear a difference but haven’t done the work to rule out bad mastering or other variables, how can you be sure? And when you don’t even notice the hiss anymore, how do you trust your own frail senses with so much money? There’s only one way to rationalize it all: golden ears. Mahoney is not afraid to couch that epiphany in the requisite vaguely scientific terminology: Audiophiles are basically synesthesiacs. They “see” music in three-dimensional visual space. You close your eyes in Fremer’s chair, and you can perceive a detailed 3D matrix of sound, with each element occupying its own special space in the air. It’s crazy and I’ve never experienced anything like it. But John, was it danceable? The problem isn’t that expensive gear doesn’t sound better than rubbish. The problem is the claim that you can go from “98.6 to 99.1 percent by swapping out a $2,600 AC power cable for a $4,000 one.” There is not a law of diminishing returns here: there is merely the law of whether you can hear it or not. Tests under controlled conditions would justify these claims, but no-one ever agrees to do them . Such recalcitrance is fine, but it’s an admission that audiophiles have supernatural powers. And that is why it’s O.K. to shoot them. Why We Need Audiophiles [Gizmodo]

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Gizmodo mounted on maple blocks, sounds great