Created either by brilliant scientists or by God himself, depending on your political beliefs, the Internet has given us countless spectacular advances in the way we live — and avoid living — our lives.

Don't worry about buying a gift. Because, really, what do you get for the all-pervasive global system of interconnected computer networks that has, literally, everything?

Back then it was known as the World Wide Web or the Information Superhighway. (Remember?)

I began writing about the Internet back when it was just a toddler. And I have to admit I was highly skeptical and a smidge cynical about this new sci-fi reality called Cyberspace.

"Some say Cyberspace is humanity's next great frontier. Others say it's South Berwick," said me, back in 1998.

Along with some rambling observation that included references to "the Hubble kaleidoscope," "NASA-trained rhesus monkeys" and "the Rev. Demetrius Dotcom," I postulated that perhaps:

"Cyberspace is not a frontier at all, but a complicated online conspiracy designed to make technologically challenged folks feel like the protagonist in the ground-breaking computer illiteracy study "Why Can't Johnny Access his AOL Web Browser with Only 4 Mgs of RAM on his Apple LCIII."

I also made several predictions, forecasting (and I remain confident the announcement will be coming out soon) that computer industry giant Microsoft would team with sports industry giant Nike.

Their new mega-company, Nicrosoft, would unveil a new line of computerized Air Hyperlink basketball shoes — featuring durable coaxial laces connecting a Velcro modem, an advanced toe-action keyboard, a cushioned odor-reducing hard drive and, embedded in the sole, a gum-rubber color monitor with 500 pixels per square inch of traction surface.

This has not yet come to pass, but the idea now sounds just slightly less farfetched than Google Glass — the state-of-the-art eyewear designed to slap a sweet computer interface onto everybody's outer face.

I also predicted that the people at Doritos would unveil a new silicon tortilla chip with a then-unprecedented 56 kilobytes of nacho cheese flavor.

The Internet's 20-year milestone seems like an ideal time to unveil my top six new predictions for 2013:

1. Time Warner Inc. — on behalf of Warner Bros. cartoon icon Tweety Bird — will sue Twitter for $500 million. Attorneys for diminutive yellow bird will charge that Twitter, whose logo is a diminutive blue bird, is guilty of "toppy-white infwinz-ment" and theft of "inta-wectual pwa-puddy." The suit will also request unspecified damages for "pain and tuffawing."

Tweety will demand that Twitter cease and desist from using the term "tweet" in its business practices — citing a negative impact on the Tweety Bird product line of pajamas, bobbleheads and speech impediment DVDs.

2. Yahoo will announce that it has purchased — for elevendy billion dollars — a time-wasting social media site called either Fritter, DillyDally or TimeSuck.com. The deal will include a lucrative option to acquire Yammer, LollyGag and BrainFreeze.

3. In a move certain to "revolutionize" the way people blow money on intensely hyped gadgets, Gillette will unveil a state-of-the-art, five-blade razor featuring a built-in cellphone, wireless hotspot and cool GPS navigation.

Powered by a micro-nuclear core that makes it illegal in most Axis of Evil countries, the device will enable shavers/users to watch a full selection of movies, sports and cat videos on its high-def, 5mm plasma screen.

4. Following in the footsteps of college dropouts (from Bill Gates to Steve Jobs to Mark Zuckerberg) who start billion-dollar companies, a brilliant second-grader will drop out of elementary school to become CEO of a new company after inventing Baby's First Laptop, a durable, lightweight supercomputer fashioned out of a Slinky, Barbie hair filaments and an Easy-Bake Oven — using proprietary Silly Putty circuitry to make it ultra-resistant to saliva, spilled milk and Gerber strained peas.

5. A talented hacker will be imprisoned after developing a protocol to gain wireless access to any human brain that is not protected by cerebral anti-virus software.

6. Google, Yahoo and Facebook will NOT take part in a bidding war to acquire Humor Gazette, a satire Web site a friend and I launched in 2003.

Back in 1993, the Internet was a mysterious curiosity discussed using a new gibberish-based language. And I admit it took me a while to appreciate the linguistic elegance of such terms as "http://www.haha.reboot.fiddlesticksandpomegranates.html." My e-mail might as well have been gimmeabreak@wtf.com.

But now, just two decades later, this young World Wide Whippersnapper affects virtually every aspect of modern human life.

And you can read all about it in my new 140-character, New York Times worst-seller: "Dear Internet: We're All Super-Addicted Now So Please Don't Hurt Us."

* This column appeared in the Sunday, May 26, 2013, Portsmouth Herald. See more.
Twitter: @MrBreneman

Posted by John Breneman at 9:14 AM | Permalink

May 21, 2013

Bicycle commute right in my wheelhouse

Bicycle commute right in my wheelhouse

By John Breneman

Finally rode my bike to work on Thursday — just a man and his trusty iron steed.

We're a couple of old-timers, he and I. Combined age: 84. He's about 33, so that makes me what, 29ish? And though I am pretty sure we weren't the oldest man-cycle combo to saddle up for Bike to Work Week, my vintage Peugeot mountain bike could've been a contender for creakiest contraption on the mean streets of Portsmouth and Newington that day.

At least the creaks, rasps and groans emanating mostly from the crank case drowned out the softer sound of my own knees grinding (though fortunately not yet "bone on bone" as my mom is quick to inquire).

Ever since I ditched my Boston commute to join what is pound-for-pound one of the finest media organizations in the entire Fourth Estate, I've been periodically flapping my gums about riding my bike to work ... one of these days.

Experts say cutting the distance one must travel to "bring home the bacon" has a direct therapeutic impact on one's mental and physical well-being, with additional benefits for the psyche, super ego and soul.

The same is true of bicycling. Good for the heart and lungs, digestion, complexion, muscle tone and, of course, the pancreas. And it significantly reduces the risk of a range of maladies including but not limited to rickets, shingles and premature withering. (Sadly, reports of a more robust and satisfying sex life remain unconfirmed.)

When I worked in Boston, a bicycle commute just didn't seem feasible. Sure, I could've rolled down I-95 to 128, jumped on I-93 south, zipped across the Zakim Bridge and made it to the newsroom just in time for ...; the end of my shift.

But I was eager to escape the Beantown rat race. (Don't get me started on Massachusetts driving. Horns and hand gestures, angry faces on blithering idiots, close calls with the clueless. Ah, those weren't the days ...)

Now, from my humble homestead in downtown Portsmouth, the drive to my post at Pease International Tradeport is a mere 8 to 10 minutes, meaning there are few excuses not to make the commute by cycle.

My discovery that this would be Bike/Walk to Work Week set in motion a date with two-wheeled destiny — a knobby-tired, no-petroleum day of car-free karma.

So Thursday was the big day ... to make my carbon footprint small. Part of the thrill of the round-trip from Market Square to Pease and back is the presence of a very special pedestrian bridge right off Woodbury Avenue that allows walkers and two-wheelers to safely traverse the highway right at the traffic circle.

The bridge was erected around 1999, back when money could still be spent for the public good — long before a bunch of powerful jerks decided that investments in stupid stuff like education and human health was anti-American.

Thanks to this awesome little bridge (find details on it and other local cycling information at seacoastbikes.org) we two-wheeled types can steer clear of the highway.

Of course, I was hoping to see some wildlife. I've spotted deer and turkeys at Pease while driving my horseless carriage. So, surely — freed from the confines of my 2006 Honda Metal Box — I would spy a couple flocks of federally protected bald eagles, maybe a beaver or a porcupine. This is a rich habitat for birds but, truth be told, I probably wouldn't know an upland sandpiper from a pied-billed grebe.

I took it casual and made it to work in about 22 minutes. Felt super all day long and I highly recommend the experience to everyone.

For those who'd like to try it but fear you may have forgotten how to ride a bike, it is, as the saying goes, "like riding a bike."

First, use a damp cloth to wipe most of the cobwebs from your vehicle. Next, pray that the tires have enough air. (They won't, so add some. Don't worry about mixing 1994 air with 2013 air. And if you don't have any air at your house, you can usually buy some for 50 cents at a gas station.) Third, grasp your "handlebars" and assume the position. Once aboard the velocipede — shove off, old sport. Place your feet on the "pedals" and begin moving them in a circular-type motion.

This should cause the bicycle to begin moving. Do not panic. Instead calmly utilize the handlebars to steer yourself in the desired direction, harnessing your innate sense of balance to avoid tumbling onto the pavement and cracking open your face and/or skull.

Contrary to the example set by cycling legend Lance Armstrong, it is not necessary to gobble down fistfuls of steroids or to siphon off your own blood and replace it with higher-octane plasma.

For additional tips on bicycling, check out my new worst-sellers "Road Rash: Friend or Foe" and "Does This Spandex Make My Butt Look Ridiculous?"

(Bonus points for anyone who rides my childhood dream bike — a green Schwinn Sting-Ray with a banana seat, slick rear tire and five-speed stick!)

On the ride home, I opted for a quicker pace and made it back to Market Square in just 15 minutes. Enhancing my exhilaration, just as I was leaving Pease, a rambunctious jackrabbit bounded across my path, just feet from my front tire. (Wildlife sighting: Check.)

Now I'm not the best spokesman for the spoke-wheeled commute — not looking to proselytize the pedal-powered experience. But if biking to work sounds like fun, my advice is do it. And let neither crunchy knees nor creaky derailleurs derail you.

John Breneman, a Herald copy editor and columnist, can be reached at jbreneman@seacoastonline.com (Twitter: @MrBreneman).

Here's the link to my Sunday column at the Portsmouth (N.H.) Herald.

Posted by John Breneman at 3:59 PM | Permalink

May 12, 2013

The mother of all Mother's Days

The mother of all Mother's Days

By John Breneman

Hey, it's Mother's Day. And, like any grown son, I am determined to do whatever it takes to let my mom know how much she means to me.

After all, over the last half-century, she has put up with a lot from her first-born — pranks, wisecracks, tantrums on topics ranging from lima beans (but I hate them) to high-top sneakers (pleeeaase) — as she gracefully guided my metamorphosis from cranky baby to cranky man. (Look how beautiful she is in the photo above, posing with yours truly sporting my favorite Sunday bonnet.)

But enough talk. Let's get to it.

Consistently voted one of the top mothers on the planet by an independent panel of people to whom she has given birth, my mom awakens to the intoxicating aroma of the finest Turkish coffee in all of Portsmouth.

The menu for my custom "breakfast in bed" Extreme Mother's Day amenity features a dizzying array of culinary delicacies, including but not limited to French toast imported from Paris, her beloved lobster mac and cheese, and a mimosa made with hand-squeezed oranges from the finest Hannaford's in the land.

Maybe even a pound of eels harvested in Hampton. You probably heard these little buggers go for as much as $3,000 a pound in parts of Asia. They sure must be delicious.

Now I know poaching eels is, as they say, eel-legal. But I figure a real son ought to be able to handle a short jail term to treat his mom to the mother of all Mother's Days. On second thought, scratch the eels. And while we're at it, let's say "no" to the escargot.

But the abnormally large fresh raspberries are served with a fondue medley featuring melted brown gold from the state-of-the-art Lindt & Sprungli chocolate factory.

Of course, there will be flowers. But not just the kind that grow in the dirt and smell pretty. Every mom gets those. I'm busting out a bouquet hand-blown by Dale Chihuly, the legendary glass artist whose work she enjoys.

After Leonard Cohen wraps up his personal mini-concert in her living room, I whisk my mom aboard a hired chopper for the quick flight down to New York, where we will enjoy VIP seating at a Broadway play I have written and staged recounting her remarkable life. (Vanity Fair: "Helen Mirren is mesmerizing!")

From there, we'll luxuriate in the stretch limo I've hired to roll up at her choice of Manhattan hotspots — the Gramercy Tavern, Trump's Diner or Forkie's Charcuterie.

Her spa treatment at Ohm is nothing fancy — just a typical full-body avocado immersion bath and hot-gemstone massage with the usual assortment of brick oven-warmed diamonds, emeralds and rubies.

While in New York, we visit United Nations headquarters, where our impassioned plea for world peace — a two-person interpretive drama featuring the elements of modern dance, opera, hiphop and Kung Fu — brought the ambassadors of East Korea and Malawi to tears.

I don't know if we'll have time to squeeze in tea (and sweet-buttered marmalade scones) with Hillary Clinton and Maya Angelou, but I hope so.

From there we skip, hand in hand, to my rented Gulfstream luxury jet for a quick jaunt to Africa to fulfill my mother's lifelong dream of frolicking with the meerkats. (Or was it the dolphins?)

After quick stops at the Pyramids and the Great Wall, we soar up to Kennebunkport where former president George H.W. Bush has promised us a ride on one of his cigarette boats. Swell guy, that Bush.

From there, we submarine it down the coast, up the Piscataqua and back to Portsmouth. (What, you forgot to rent your mom a private, submersible watercraft? Mmm.)

Now my mom is not particularly fond of heights so we err on the side of NOT tandem bungee jumping off the I-95 bridge.

Back home, it is the perfect time to unveil my two-hour documentary about her remarkable life as a wife, mother and children's store entrepreneur.

Titled simply "Jill," and narrated of course by Robert Redford and Jon Hamm, it traces her life story from her idyllic childhood in Crafton, Pa., to her epic pilgrimage to York, Maine, and then on to Portsmouth. The piece concludes with never-before-seen footage of her high school graduation — the most emotionally evocative piece of film I have ever seen.

So, as you have probably already surmised, the above itinerary has been slightly exaggerated. (But G. Willikers! It's her fault really, and my dad's, for sticking me with somewhat of a wild imagination.)

Though my mom might enjoy a whirlwind, multi-state Mom Day tour de force, I suspect she would rather spend Mother's Day what she calls the "traditional" way.

That means working at the family business with her daughter, then zipping across town to see her daughter's daughter (my niece if you do the math) in the internationally acclaimed Portsmouth High School production of "Hansel and Gretel." (Vanity Fair: "Zoe Sprankle is mesmerizing!")

Hollywood ending: During the standing ovation — as the entire theater echoes with applause, pride and joy — I hug my mom and tell her that I love her. Happy Mother's Day.

-- 30 --

* This column appeared in the Sunday, May 12, 2013, Portsmouth Herald. See more.
Twitter: @MrBreneman

Posted by John Breneman at 10:03 PM | Permalink

May 8, 2013

Kim Kardashian does NOT endorse miracle sex pill

Kim Kardashian does NOT endorse miracle sex pill

Posted by John Breneman at 9:12 AM | Permalink

May 5, 2013

Is Sen. Ayotte representing N.H. or NRA?

Is Sen. Ayotte representing N.H. or NRA?

By John Breneman

I swear to God, the Senate's infuriating decision to reject expanded background checks for firearms' purchases despite 90 percent public approval is making me want to shoot (calm down) my mouth off — on this most divisive and vitally important issue.

As if more evidence was needed that guns can be extremely harmful, now poor Sen. Kelly Ayotte has shot herself in the foot trying to prove what a hard-core Republican she is.

I'm sorry, but I don't know what else you call it. She apparently analyzed the political landscape in the aftermath of the Newtown massacre (and all those before it, next one coming soon), absorbed the data that 90 percent of the public wanted background checks ... and then voted against the people who elected her.

And since doing so she's been all over the national news.

You've probably seen some headlines and poll numbers. "Ayotte approval rating plunges 15 percent." "Newtown victim's daughter confronts Ayotte at town hall event." "Ayotte's calculated allegiance to extreme right is wrong for N.H."

Actually, that last one is just my humble opinion.

Look, Kelly Ayotte is from New Hampshire so she's got that going for her. I'd much rather like her than have to write about how she's blowing it. I'm thinking maybe she's just been getting some bad advice.

Flash back to the Republican National Convention last August. As part of the payoff for buddying up with John McCain and Lindsey Graham, Republican "rising star" Ayotte was awarded a nice speaking spot.

Sadly, her most memorable line was pure political dreck. "President Obama has never even run a lemonade stand — and it shows."

Really? The bush-league lemonade stand quip leaves a sour taste as one of the least original lines ever (Louisiana Gov. Bobby Jindal used it last May and RNC Chairman Reince Priebus about a week later).

Coincidentally, one of the men whose approval she was courting — GOP nominee Mitt Romney — also had never run a lemonade stand. However, records show he did liquidate several lemonade operations and issued pink slips to their pre-teen proprietors.

Ayotte's vote and subsequent blowback provides a new window into the long-held Republican strategy of making sure absolutely nothing gets accomplished under President Obama — his opponents have not disguised the fact that they would rather deny the president any political victories than do their jobs working for the American people.

This strategy is reprehensible to me.

However, there are examples of Republicans working for the public good. One is Sen. Pat Toomey, R-Pa., who teamed up with Sen. Joe Manchin, D-W.Va., to craft the compromise background-check legislation known as the Manchin-Toomey proposal.

Sen. Toomey, whose approval numbers have risen in the wake of his advocacy for this modest gun safety measure, shared his view of Republican motives after the bill failed to pass the Senate.

"In the end it didn't pass because we're so politicized," he said. "There were some on my side who did not want to be seen helping the president do something he wanted to get done, just because the president wanted to do it."

Sen. Ayotte's explanation on why she voted against the bill, against 90 percent of the populace, defies credulity.

Confronted at a town hall event by a man who said he had read her four-page explanation of the vote and still did not understand, Ayotte said, "In terms of a universal background check, as it's been framed, I have a lot of concerns of that leading to a registry that will create a privacy situation for lawful firearms owners."

Kelly Ayotte knows that is bull. She knows that, in an attempt to achieve compromise, Manchin and Toomey specifically ban the creation of a federal registry and establish harsh penalties for doing so. And her attempt to snooker New Hampshire voters with the far right's "federal registry" talking point was positively cringe-inducing.

Sen. Ayotte's real answer to the gentleman's simple question — "What's wrong with universal background checks?" — is this: "Powerful people whose money and support I believe I need do not want background checks or any gun-safety measures, and their support is more important to me than working to create a safer world."

Meanwhile, the National Rifle Association holds its annual meeting this weekend in Houston — and the "cold dead hands" people are, uh, bringing out the big guns.

Ted Cruz. Rick Perry. Bobby Jindal. Rick Santorum. Glenn Beck!

And, of course, Sarah Palin. (Remember when she featured Rep. Gabby Giffords and other Democrats on a hit list and mapped their districts with bull's-eyes? That was before Giffords was shot in January 2011.)

But the speeches — part of what's being billed as a "Stand and Fight" rally — are all a prelude to the keynote hater. Bullet-brained rock star Ted Nugent.

Back in 2007, Nugent was quoted as saying, "Barack Obama, he's a piece of (dung). I told him to suck on my machine gun" and telling Hillary Clinton, while brandishing two machine guns onstage, "You might want to ride one of these into the sunset you worthless (witch)."

Yes, that is the man the NRA has chosen to make the big speech on the closing day of its big convention.

As I said before, I really want to like Sen. Kelly Ayotte.

But first I'm afraid she'll have to chose another path than rolling with the Ted Nugent wing of the Republican Party.

-- 30 --

* This column appeared in the Sunday, May 5, 2013, Portsmouth Herald. See more.
Follow on Twitter: @MrBreneman

Related stories:
Value the human race over the arms race
(Dec. 30, 2102, commentary on Newtown)

Posted by John Breneman at 9:10 AM | Permalink