They were the future. There was Laserdiscs, Laser Tag… They even had an American Gladiator named after them.

Now look what tasks the once-mighty laser’s been reduced to: Zapping hirsute women’s mustaches off, entertaining domestic cats, and parking cars.

Honestly, parking cars? This is a job for burnout teens, not for lasers.

That’s not to say that lasers don’t do it well. They do it great. This system here, it automatically activates when you open your garage door, then it guides you to the absolute perfect parking spot with—what else? Laser precision.

It’s just kind of depressing, you know? It’s like if you went into a restroom and discovered John Glenn was working there as the attendant. Don’t get us wrong, restroom attendant is a perfectly honorable job. But John Glenn? Or—it’s what it must have been like to see Joe Louis in his pro wrestling stage. Or Johnny Rotten on Judge Judy.

Our grandpa had an excellent parking system that he used for decades. It was a tennis ball he hung from the rafters in his garage at just the right spot so that when it bumped his windshield, he was all the way pulled in. It worked great. Just think about that. Lasers. Lasers. Doing a job that a tennis ball is qualified for.

We weep, man, we really do.

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