Here's my idea for a dream exercise machine: I input my weight, the number of calories I want to burn and how much time I have. Then I power up the gleaming, multigeared thing--and it goes to work by itself while I return to my favorite chair, play online poker and eat maple-glazed doughnuts.
Sadly, that Utopian scenario will arrive around the same time as the flying car. Meanwhile, my waistline is expanding in proportion to the national debt. A recent checkup confirmed my worst suspicions: I'm borderline everything, from diabetes to elephantiasis. Luckily, there's a raft of new gadgets on...
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