“Oh no…they’re back…”
~Former friends/associates/relatives of American patent holders
We’ve tried to warn you, time and time again, about the insanity you can discover when you delve into the murky world of American’s Patent Holders. You might ask yourself, “AFFotD, why do you keep doing this to us? Over and over again, you expose us to the horrific psyches of deranged men and women who create terrifying products, and for what reason?” To that we can only ask, do you know why the Saw franchise has seven titles to its name? Because you keep coming back asking for more!
And as much as we value your sanity, it appears we can’t stop until we’ve turned you all into the singular patent holder that haunts every nightmare a psychologist will ever have. So let’s dive into the murky, murky muck.
An Extended Examination Of More of America’s Strangest Patents
Hey, wait a minute, inventor Fu-hu Hsieh. You know women aren’t allowed to golf. Change your silhouette right away.
But moving on from that, let’s just take a look at the logicstic feat that’s occurred here. Someone basically made a big ass golf putter that you hold under your chin…and swivel with. Maybe we don’t understand the finer points of golf, but how does this actually do anything in the, you know, game of golf? Because we can’t for the life of us figure out how this product would make you a better putter. Look at that thing. You realize you’d have to keep your head perfectly still to get that damn thing to operate. Look at that women, she’s grabbing the top of that rod in a…well actually sort of unfortunate placement if you look at it phallically but hey, maybe we understand now why Hsieh decided to make the drawing that of a woman.
So anyway, as the woman is grasping onto the top of the upper rod (God, once you see it you can’t unsee it), while grabbing the swinging portion awkwardly with one hand and sort of flailing it forward. Listen we know that it’d be racist to make a joke about how since this was invented by an Asian individual, it would make sense that this looks like it’s intended less for Golf and more for some kinky kind of sex the internet hasn’t invented yet, but come on. The inventor of this product either has a very flimsy grasp of the game of Golf, or a very firm grasp on their own member as they breath heavily over this picture.
…No it’s okay you can let out that scream you’re stifling. We might join you as well.
Remember the name “Charles E. Willard.” Because when you find the body with this terror protruding from its solar plexus like a goddamn scene from Alien, that is the name of the killer. This product is so intrinsically wrong it just convinced our staff that moral relativism isn’t real and was just invented by people who want to be assholes. To clarify, Charles E. Willard, assumed serial killer, had a problem on his hands (ha, puns). His nose was always getting stuffed up, and no matter what your third grade teacher tells you when you’re repeating the grade for the fifth time, you can’t always totally clear your nose by blowing into a tissue.
So, Charles E. Willard would pick his nose. But he was tired of all the other students teasing him, telling him things like “why do you have hair on your face?” and “how old are you, 30?” so he decided to invent a product that he could use to pick his nose, without it being his actual finger. Eureka! What a loophole! But wait, what would make that different than any other finger-sized rod or piece of metal (or, ouch, wood)? How about you design it to be a double sided finger! So that no matter what side you use, you are using a finger to pick your nose without using your finger!
In a way, it will distract people from the fact that you’re picking your nose. Unfortunately, instead of saying, “Ha, you’re picking your nose? What a loser” they’ll be saying, “What is that sticking out of your OH MY GOD HE HAS A KNIFE! I SOMEHOW ALWAYS KNEW IT WOULD END LIKE THIS!”
So, uh, in that sense…good invention we guess?
John Richard Daugherty invented this product relatively recently, and we don’t care how many times he insists that he invented a “Finger Mounted Insect Dissuasion Device and Method of Use” this product is clearly meant to be a sex toy. We’re not saying it’s meant to be an enjoyable sex toy. Or even a safe one. But someone will buy this product, and will buy it solely for use in sexual situations. We’re not saying that the inventor of the product intended that to be the case, but we absolutely are saying that.
Think about this rationally- why would this be a good idea as a fly swatter? Fly swatters are supposed to be the grenades of fly-killing products—it doesn’t matter if you miss, so long as it’s close. So if you want to kill a fly with this product, you basically have to pull a Daniel-San on that fucker. But the product description says it’s a “dissuasion device.” It tells you that you flick your fingers, with this on, at the flies, and it’ll make them leave you alone. You know what else shoos flies away? Flicking your fingers normally. Without this sex toy on the end of it.
Toddler-Disposal Device Tricycle Lawnmower
“Phew, this article about patents isn’t going to be nearly as disturbing as I expected,” you say as you pour yourself a tall glass of relief bourbon. “I mean, sure that finger will haunt my dreams forever, but the other ones were mainly a bunch of crass sex jokes. It’s not like someone, like, made a product where a toddler pedals away with their tiny feet just inches away from sharp, spinning, grass-cutting blades, right? Oh God, I hope the fact that I just said that aloud isn’t enough to make it so. PLEASE DON’T TELL ME IT MADE IT SO!”
“OH GOD WHAT EVILS HAVE I UNLEASHED ON THIS EARTH!?”
Yes, that’s right. Deanna F. Porath heard you, and decided to unleash this terrifying patent on the world. Because if your damn kid is going to keep pedaling on the damn lawn, you might as well get the grass cut while you’re at it. And if your damn kid gets caught under the damn blades, well, you can’t get in trouble for something no one can find, isn’t that right, Mr. van der Sloot?
While we’d continue to make off color jokes about this very-literal death trap, we actually don’t want to waste any more time than already has been wasted by going to Mrs. Porath, grabbing her by the shoulders, and demanding what are the wood chips in her garden made of. WHERE DID YOU GET THE WOOD CHIPS, DEANNA!?