This is charming — in 1925, William Huffman patented a “jumping balloon” that could carry its operator hundreds of feet into the air. He foresaw a whole new world:

The balloon is particularly useful in jumping over natural or artificial barriers, such as buildings, trees, rivers, chasms and the like; as a convenient means for quickly obtaining considerable altitude for photographic and observation purposes; as a convenient and safe way to practice parachute landings and give preliminary instructions in lighter-than-air craft to students; as a convenient means of quickly and easily ascending to the tops of trees, houses and the like for inspection; and other purposes.

With that in view, the sport became a fad of sorts in the 1920s. Time magazine wrote, “Walk along the ground with a breeze at your back, approach a fence, bend your knees, spring lightly into the air when you feel the tug of the balloon. You will sail over the fence so easily and land so gently that you will be surprised.”

“All the legislatures will be busily engaged in passing laws prohibiting people from leaving the earth too freely, or rules for the right of way up and down and sideways,” predicted enthusiast Frederick S. Hoppin. “And then there will be all the new rules of etiquette: should you pass over or around a lady?”

Bicycles are great for exercising the lower body, but what about the back? In 1900 Louis S. Burbank had a bright idea — by mounting a pair of sculls on the frame, the modern cyclist can row his way to total fitness.

The levers are used for both pedaling and steering. The patent says nothing about brakes.

We may safely suppose that the ocean ships of a hundred years hence will be driven by energy of some kind transmitted from the shores on either side. It is absolutely unquestionable that no marine engine in the least resembling what we know to-day can meet the requirements of the new age. The expense of driving a steamship increases in such a ratio to its size and speed that the economic limits of steam propulsion are foreseen. Probably the ships of A.D. 2000 will differ entirely in appearance from those we know. Just as road friction is the bugbear of the railway engineer, so water-resistance is the bugbear of the marine engineer. The ships of a hundred years hence will not lie in the water. They will tower above the surface, merely skimming it with their keels, and the only engines they will carry will be those which receive and utilise the energy transmitted to them from the power-houses ashore — perhaps worked by the force of the very tides of the conquered ocean itself.

— T. Baron Russell, A Hundred Years Hence, 1906

Thomas Cane’s “Santa Claus detector,” patented in 1996, combines yuletide spirit with cold-hearted espionage. Kids booby-trap the hearth as shown on Christmas Eve, and if the decorative ribbon is pulled during the night, the stockings light up, giving proof of the fat man’s visit. “This is particularly important to young children, providing reassurance that the child’s good behavior has in fact been rewarded by Santa Claus.”

The patent abstract says that the same technology can be used to monitor the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy. Presumably they’re working on countermeasures.

A trap for gullible tapeworms, patented in 1854 by Alpheus Myers.

The capsule is baited and swallowed by the patient, after a fast “to make the worm hungry.” The worm seizes the bait, the trap closes on its head, and the doctor withdraws the whole length of the parasite from the patient’s stomach, presumably with a magician’s flourish.

“In constructing the trap, care should be taken that the spring g, is only strong enough to hold the worm, and not strong enough to cause his head to be cut off.”

This ought to work — in 1966, D.R. Petrik proposed replacing the wheels of trains with blocks of ice.

More precisely, the wheels (101) would be bracketed by ice blocks (102), which are pressed downward against the heated track and assume the weight of the train. As the blocks melt they can be replaced with fresh ones from refrigerated compartments in the car (103) “without stopping the train or engaging the wheels.”

If it’s not pulled by a locomotive, the whole business can be propelled by jet or rocket thrust, or perhaps propellers. “Of course the wheels could be eliminated altogether in suitable cases, although their retention may be persuaded by the desire to provide an emergency or reserve means of support.” Happy landings.

The first navigable submarine appeared in 1620. Dutch inventor Cornelius Drebbel covered a wooden frame with greased leather to make a watertight, steerable craft for the Royal Navy; within four years he’d produced an “invisible eel” large enough to accommodate 12 oarsmen and remain 15 feet underwater for three hours. It’s said he even took James I on a test dive in the Thames, making him the first monarch to travel underwater.

It’s not clear how Drebbel avoided carbon dioxide buildup. An acquaintance of Robert Boyle who had sailed on the sub said the inventor produced a “chemical liquor” that would “cherish the vital flame residing in the heart.” Possibly he had found a way to produce oxygen gas by heating nitre.

Drebbel’s sub never saw action, but it was centuries ahead of its time. As late as 1901 H.G. Wells wrote, “I must confess that my imagination, in spite even of spurring, refuses to see any sort of submarine doing anything but suffocate its crew and founder at sea.”

In 2002 Lester Clancy patented an exercise apparatus that “simulates the effects of jumping rope, but does not utilize an actual rope.”

“To use the invention, a user holds a handle in each hand, and begins to simulate jumping rope while moving the handles in a circle with their hands and arms. The weighted ball or gear simulates the centrifugal action of a jump rope, thus delivering all the health benefits of jumping rope without any of the disadvantages of stumbling on the rope, having the rope hit the ceiling or the like.”

Another workout: Mail one handle to a partner in Japan and you can have an 8,000-mile tug of war.

In July 1979, Horace A. Knowles applied for a patent for a “novelty toy which assists the user in twiddling his thumbs”:

Heretofore no equipment has been available to the thumb twiddler to assist him in the twiddling procedure. To those twiddlers who lack sufficient coordination, not only is the repose and peace of mind which thumb twiddling normally brings not available, but the inability to carry out the twiddling successfully, including the inadvertent bumping of the thumbs against one another during the twiddling motion, causes additional frustration.

Is this satire? I can’t tell, and neither could the Patent Office — they approved Knowles’ application the following year.