Tech Eye: Enter the Snuggery
It seems there was one too many complaints about our late night product-testing sessions and we're finally being evicted. The good news is that we were sick of Grandma Techeye's attic anyway, so we've decided to seize the moment and construct an abode more commensurate with our lifestyle - our very own secret headquarters.
We've given a lot of thought to just what kind of headquarters would be right for us. Techeye definitely needs something less dank and angsty than a Batcave, for example, less remote than a moonbase and less patrician than an X-mansion. Volcano bases scream "phallic insecurity" and submarines leak, so they're out. Generally, we're thinking of something on the scale of Superman's Fortress of Solitude, albeit with less of a geologically misanthropic feel to it.
However, our future hideout will never be complete without Scooby-Doo-style secret passages, a Playboy-Mansionesque grotto and a two-storey outhouse furnished in late Rococo. It also needs (greased) wheelchair ramps and a nougat-filled moat.
Ah, but what to call our secret base? All the best ones have names, but choosing a name that's fits is tough. We considered "Fortress of Debauchery," but apparently Kim Jong Il already has one of those. "The Palace of Technological Depravity" has panache, but it might discourage the ladies from visiting, and the "Gadget Pad" is a mite twee for us. The list of potential names goes on and on.
Finally, just when despair's cruel talons began to sink in, the perfect name came to us: "The Snuggery of Doom." It's evil, yet inviting.
We'll have to furnish our dear Snuggery-to-be appropriately, of course, and we're starting with China Fun Sports' snappily named "Advanced massage chair FOB Ningbo,"
which appears to have been designed by sloth incarnate. Its got back rollers, 16 massaging air bags, an "infrared body scan" to automatically adjust the massage features, a built-in DVD player (with remote), a "convenient drinks tray" and "complementary headphones." All that for only zł.2,130, though the minimum order is a "20-foot container" of them - just enough to furnish a convention center or, for example, a secret base.
