Face it; we've all been there. We've all asked the questions:

• How can I best dissuade a mole from venturing into my yard, but in a way that minimizes my carbon footprint?
• What is the latest high-tech gizmo available to me in my tireless battle against the onslaught of savage microorganisms left behind by legions of filth-ridden hands to fester on everything from doorknobs to restaurant forks?
• I need a new alarm clock, but not just any alarm clock; I need an absolutely absurd alarm clock. Where can I find one?

The answer to all these questions, of course, can be found in SkyMall, the publication of superfluous technology-run-amok, located in the seat pocket in front of you, right next your emergency instruction pamphlet, which presumably tells you how to maximize your chances of surviving disaster at 35,000 feet but actually serves no other purpose than to stand as a stark counterpoint to SkyMall, rendering undeniable the magazine's absurdity.

To wit, right there, on page 56: a solar-powered mole repeller. That bears repeating: a solar-powered mole repeller. Not a diesel-powered mole grinder or a stainless steel mole eviscerator. No smoke-belching implements of war worthy of a voracious and uncaring foe. A solar-powered mole repeller.

You see, SkyMall knows our society is presently hip-deep in a "green" frenzy, and we're forever wringing our hands about being sufficiently empathetic to our fellow animals, so SkyMall is there to help us as we scour our lives for ways to make Al Gore smile and show moles we mean them no harm. That's how one ends up with carbon-neutral mole repellers.

So, by plunking down $39.99 on perhaps the most contrived application of solar technology since George Hamilton engineered a reflective device to tan the inner linings of his nostrils in 1953, you can gently redirect your mole scourge to the yard next door, leaving the killing to your knuckle-dragging neighbor.

Next, assuming germaphobes can muster the courage to actually touch a copy of SkyMall in the first place, they can breath a sigh of relief upon reaching page 166...assuming germaphobes can view a breath as anything other than a game of Russian Roulette in a world of invisible floating biohazards.

On page 166—just below the wireless sensor that mounts to your mailbox door and sends both audio and video signals to a remote receiver in your home the very instant your mail arrives (an absolute must, I would think, for any one of the 1.4 million finalists in the Publishers Clearinghouse sweepstakes)—is the Hubble Telescope of the Michael Jackson crowd, a Nano UV Disinfection Scanner.

This virus-killer finds those nasty microorganisms wherever they hide and emits a UV light, which "produces sufficient energy to destroy (their) DNA." Yow. That's some serious firepower for an implement that "folds and fits easily into your pocket or purse." (Note to male germaphobes: you might want to keep your Nano UV Disinfection Scanner out of your front trouser pockets if you have any desire to hear the pitter-patter of contaminated little footsteps on your biologically pristine floors anytime down the road.)

But SkyMall doesn't stop there. It solidifies its position as the go-to magazine for technological pornography on page 22, with "The Flying Alarm Clock," a digital alarm clock that launches a flying rotor into the air as the alarm sounds. The rotor will eventually land somewhere within a 9' radius of the alarm clock base, which will not stop ringing until the rotor is returned to the base.

I kid you not; buy this doozy and your first activity each morning will be playing fetch with an inanimate object—and you're the dog. Your second, third, and fourth activities will be—in order—stubbing your toe, cursing the inanimate object you stubbed your toe on, and visualizing in disturbingly clear detail the many ways you'd like to maim the designers of this atrocious bastardization of Frisbee technology. Now, I'm no psychologist, but I can't help but think there are healthier ways of greeting the day.

My purpose here is not to pick a fight with technology. Technology is indifferent, like a blank sheet of paper. My purpose is to pick a fight with inane applications of technology. When a self-proclaimed performance artist writes a haiku about his uvula on that sheet of paper in invisible ink and puts a price tag on it, or when a manufacturer uses technology to harness the power of the sun so as to...uh...repel a mole and advertises it to travel-addled business people in SkyMall, well then, it's open season in my book.

Michael Stuhlreyer is a business writer, a graphic designer, and president of Stuhlreyer Business Instruments, LLC., a Nashville-based firm specializing in the creation of marketing and sales support materials, as well as articles, case studies, and product profiles for technology companies. Contact Mike at bizinstruments@comcast.net or visit his Web site, www.bizinstruments.com.