Back To The Future

I spend a lot of time whining about the fact that the year after we supposedly "made contact," we are still wandering around without such staples as personal jet packs and robot maids. Sometimes the future is hard to see when you're standing in it. Here is an example of just such a phenomenon.
My wife had decided that it was time to show my son the original "Star Trek" series. It is only now that, upon reflection, I can understand from whence his mild disdain flows. I take for granted that when he is in trouble on some matte-painted planet, Captain Kirk will pop open his communicator and shout, "two to beam up, Scotty." I never questioned how such a thing might be possible because this was the future. That was easy enough to ascertain by the length of the female crew members' skirts. My son remained unaffected because, on my desk, sat his own personal communicator. Not only does it flip open with a pleasing chirp, it is also smaller than the handful issued to the officers of the Enterprise. So Jim can tweet Spock about this rockin' green babe from Talos IV. Apparently sexism will still be rampant in the future.
There are no plans in 2011 to go boldly where no man, or one, has gone before. NASA has done a great job of populating the surface of Mars with robots who will no doubt evolve into some evil cyber-race and return intent on enslaving their former masters. Meanwhile, back here in the past, I will consult my wife's on-line wish list, where I find that I can shop for items using my home computer or handheld computing device. And what will I buy for her? Maybe a robot maid. As long as I don't have to walk the dog on one of those scary space treadmills.