As far from my head as I can get • The Registry

Something for the weekend, sir? More good news for Team GB medalists at the Tokyo Games: you are going to the moon.

It’s true because I read it. It was in a press release sent to me this week. “Olympic medalists get free ticket to the moon,” he says. It’s going to be an expensive flight, with over 50 medals awarded to the British so far, and the Paralympics have yet to start.

Unless… yeah, here it comes in the first sentence. “LifeShip Inc. today announced that it will be sending the DNA of Olympic and Paralympic Gold, Silver and Bronze medalists to the Moon free of charge.”

Doug Quail has likely gained more space miles from his journey on the Rekal Road than the Gong Conquerors will get from their meta-visit to Earth’s largest satellite. I myself may only be 29,096th on the waiting list to be allocated a seat – you may remember I still have my mother’s ticket issued by PanAm – but at least when my turn will come, it will be me who is outside. I’ll be screwed if I stand on an observation deck, waving a tearful farewell as my nail clippings make the trip for me.

Genomics company LifeShip hopes to cram a million astronauts into a capsule, at $ 99 a piece. Hopefully the capsule has landing clearance, given that another company was selling real estate on the lunar surface per square foot in the 1990s.

And yet… LifeShip’s price of $ 399 for sending “the ashes of a loved one” in the capsule seems attractive. It’s just a little too late. My mother might have been able to fly this moonlight after all if only I hadn’t already distributed her ashes in the woods.

Come to think of it, $ 399 seems like a steal, given that “the ashes of a loved one” take up a lot more space and weight than Sky Brown’s DNA. This is because they are delivered to the bereaved in a large plastic container similar in size and weight to a 2kg jar of muscle gain protein. I made the spontaneous decision to take my mother’s ashes to the woods one afternoon after leaving my local gym with a taste of chalk in my mouth.

Fortunately, LifeShip is not Ryanair, otherwise they would charge extra for well-heeled DNA samples to take advantage of Speedy Boarding. Tea and coffee would cost $ 10 per stick. Or I would find the spacesuit is not included as standard.

At least I have my own Lévis.

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Out of the world aimless thoughts like these are a hangover from pandemic blockages. In normal times, people would have scoffed at the concept of spending “real” money on virtual artwork locked in NFTs. Art collectors bragging about their latest NFT acquisition would have been seen as floundering on the same level of evolution as a sweaty lard in the pub telling you they had just married a “hot girl” on the Second life.

Not today, of course. This week I learned that luxury processed food guru Elizabeth Solaru made history by being the first to market an NFT cake.

Yes, a cake. Not just any old cake, idiot! It’s an NFT cake – you know, like a real cake but you can’t eat because it doesn’t exist.

It makes perfect sense. It combines two of the western world’s most ridiculous fashions: NFTs themselves, of course, and the inexplicable idea that cake baking could be considered exciting. Or difficult. Or it’s worth watching on TV.

Making cakes is easy. It’s true because I read it. There is a book that Mrs. D bought in the 1980s that explains how easy it is. “Cakes can be made quickly and easily with minimal hassle and hassle,” the author writes, clearly noting that fancy tin cans and piping bags are unnecessary. “There is no great mystery in baking a cake,” she adds. “It’s done when it looks and smells ready.”

Well, I’ve cooked all of the recipes in the book over the years and she’s right: cooking is a pipe dream. How they can turn this into a long-running reality TV competition, I have no idea. Program advisers need to be as mental as viewers – ripe choices for an NFT used seller, if you ask me.

Here is the very dog-eared book in question. Note the author.

Book cover photo: Fast Cakes by Mary Berry

In recent months, post-containment stubbornness has resulted in an increase in the popularity of anti-stress books and wellness / meditation apps.

Now I have to be careful here because last year’s televangelists and app developers who produced kitsch looping recordings of bird songs and ambient yoga life of muzak cod have renamed themselves ” thought leaders in mental health “. Cast any doubt on any of their wild claims and you risk being accused of wanting to drive all bipolar people to death camps. I’ve taken this route before when I recently compared Marcus Rashford’s horribly embarrassing penalty kick in the Euro Final to watching Mr Hulot play Riverdance after holding down Dulcolax.

The first is the “minister and licensed psychotherapist,” Dr Pieter Noomen, who wrote a dozen booklets based on names that came to mind on his late night walks. He doesn’t claim to have written the books himself, however. “I ‘heard’ them inside me when I specifically sat down to ‘hear’ them,” he explains on his website. “I listened as they formed in my head.”

Yes, Pieter, they are called “thoughts”. Now that you’ve erased all of those things from your head, there’s a cake baking TV show that you might be interested in.

On the technology side, I am intrigued by the concept of “bio active listening” from application developer Bio Music One. BMO invented an “active audio technology integrated into an original musical medium” based on “bio active sound vibrations”.

So in other words… music.

No, not just music! Sound vibrations! You can even experience it through several methods. One is the conscious listening mode (i.e. listen to the music). Another is the continuous mode (let it play in a loop). The third is my favorite: the inaudible mode. The latter involves “playing at the lowest volume level to diffuse bioactive sound vibrations without hearing the music”.

I find this intriguing because it evokes the tin foil hat brigade that insists their brains are being manipulated by radio waves. Well maybe they are. The CIA began to seriously investigate the so-called Havana Syndrome, so they or they must think that it is possible. There was a physicist called Dr Elizabeth Rauscher who worked at Stanford Research Institute and NASA, among others, whose research on bioelectromagnetism from the 1960s onwards led her to claim that she had discovered frequency modulation that made people laugh uncontrollably.

She called it the “marijuana frequency”.

Sadly, she passed away in 2019 at the age of 82 and her notebooks have yet to be released. One can only dream of what could have been if she had lived a few more years and had access to app developers. We would all return to the office stoned with sound vibrations.

Speaking of which, you can try BMO’s “active bio listening” for yourself on this page, aimed at stressed-out journalists like, uh, me. Bio active sound vibrations are particularly effective in inaudible mode.

Like the DNA of an Olympian: far away, man. ®

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Alistair Dabbs

Alistair Dabbs is a freelance tech enthusiast, juggling tech journalism, training and digital publishing. Always the type to spot new trends before they go mainstream, I’m baffled to recognize that “bluetooth audio sunglasses” are now a genuine thing and not at all the ridiculous fashion I thought they were. a few weeks ago. More at Autosave is for wimps and @alidabbs.

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