9 Methods of Immortality - How to Survive Them

There are lots of forms of immortality. Humanity loves to think and dream about it above all else. This might be motivated by fearing the oblivion that awaits us when our bodies finally succumb to destruction or inevitable entropy, but once you get past that there’s also the inconvenience. I want to see this crazy ride through to the very end, whether that’s nuclear genocide next week or transcending the material plane a billion years from now. I also want to see everything that comes afterwards, like in that Future Is Wild show. Indeed, being alive is like watching an incredible TV series with dozens of characters that I really care about but knowing that I’ll probably die before I find out how it all ends.

Naming no names…

Of course, for preference I’d rather witness all of human history with a time machine. I could skip all the waiting around for the future to happen and also witness the past too. But if my only option is the slow way then I’ll take it. So let’s have a quick chat about the various slow ways, after the click!

Cars of the Future - Part 2

A while ago I told you how car companies Smart, Renault and Nissan were all releasing electric cars this year. Electric cars with realistic range and power, not just token gestures for showrooms and trade expos. We examined the adverts and ultimately concluded that I want a spaceship. But it has to be a good spaceship with faster-than-light travel and everything.

This will also suffice

Anyway, the paradigm shift continues after the click!

Cars of the Future

If a car isn’t burning precious natural resources and clogging the lungs of small children with noxious, cancerous tar then what good are they? You might as well be on a bicycle! So who the hell would buy an electric car? What kind of pathetic loser would you have to be to get rid of your huge pedestrian-cruncher or midlife-crisis-mobile? What, are you going to ride a bus like some kind of peasant? How will anyone know how big your cock is, unless you drink diesel like lemonade and tear down the road like a bull making sweet, sweet love to a lion – deep and noisy.

...and sensual.

After the click we'll find out about the other, correct side of the argument.

This is where Josh took over

If you’re reading this, then you’re reading it in the future. Probably not so far in the future that you’re reading it in a flying car, while a robot massages your erogenous zones, but you’re certainly not reading it today. This means you read an article on this blog which hasn’t been written yet, from my perspective. It means you liked it so much that you decided to read through the archives. Congratulations, you have excellent taste.

It also means two more things. One possibility is that you’ve been clicking from previous article to previous article, reading backwards through individual posts, lured on step by step by my charm and wit. Congratulations, the proper flow of time means nothing to you now, and you’ve been procrastinating so long that whatever you needed to do is probably no longer relevant. The second possibility is that at some point, you decided to go all the way to the very beginning and read forwards. You’ve just committed to reading over one hundred years’ worth of blog posts, you poor fool (depending on when you’re from).

So you’ll either have been confused, or will be confused very shortly. See, all the posts prior to this one were written by Henneth; my good friend, helicopter pilot, waffle cook and occasional unicorn wrangler. This was a watershed moment, when the blog changed hands. For the sake of continuity and narrative, I’ll say this: Hello, my name is Josh.

To me, the name One Click Too Many implied that I should not only bring you the successful, professional stories that Henneth used to write, but also information that made you wish you could Ctrl+Z your brain. It sounded like a place we can confess the things we found when we surfed too far in the wrong direction. A place where you can find safety after being driven crazy by that one link you shouldn’t have clicked.

So, I’m sorry about doing that to your brain. But you’re partly to blame too. You helped build this. Without you and your precious page views, dear reader, how could I have grown an audience of millions, an empire of flying cars and an army of sex-robots.