For every technology journalist, CES is ‘a very ominous assignment – with overtones of extreme personal danger‘, usually involving running around like a pantyless, coked-up Britney Spears following an inevitable divorce announcement, hyped up on whatever caffienated goods you can get your pasty RSI-ridden hands on, taking a quick harassed perve on whatever plastic treats were to be lusted after for the next 12 months. ‘Free lunch, final wisdom, total coverage…Why not? I tell you, my man, this is the American Dream in action! We’d be fools not to ride this strange torpedo all the way out to the end!‘ Of course, the lure of Krispy Kreme, $9.99 buffets, fruit machines, and scantily-clad waitresses passing ’round every form of lethal concoction known to man was a mighty distraction, but being five able-bodied technology journalists who hadn’t yet succombed to the temptation of lounging around our Mothers’ basements, twiddling our thumbs on the latest Halo mission, we were guaranteed to succeed in bringing our readers top notch, hyper-speed reports on the latest in consumer electronics – or were we?