You are all Jet Pack people.

You are a Jet Pack person, because you're tolerant of pointlessly rad things, otherwise you wouldn't be here.

You see, at least on a theoretical level, the inherent joy, value, greatness of strapping on a box of a highly unstable liquid and letting in blow up in such a way that you can sort of control the trajectory and flip the bird at the surly bonds of the Earth and not die, or if you do die, it will be amazing and everybody will say that, while it's sad you died horribly, you died the most awesomest way.

I know, know, know in my heart of hearts that is true about you, you amazing sociopathic genius.

My friend Mac is a Jet Pack person to a fault. Like, he HAS WRITTEN A BOOK ABOUT HIS QUEST TO STRAP THAT SHIT ON FOR REALS.

And he's written a book on his descent (Joke! You ascend in a Jet Pack. Heh. God, I'm sorry) into the world of the Jet Pack, or more properly, rocket belts. Mac spent a year or so hanging in this weird subculture made up of human being who refuse to accept that future that promised to us on The Jetsons isn't coming. They are making their own future. Neat.

Mac interviewed me for the book, and I think I gave long, boring answers, so I might not have made the final cut.

But still, pick up a copy. You're the type.

The book is called Jetpack Dreams: One Man's Up and Down (But Mostly Down) Search for the Greatest Invention That Never Was. You can also read about the book here.

I interviewed Hank, Mac's lunatic liberal gun freak father, here.