Originating in India centuries ago for martial-arts training, the Indian club workout made its way to England in the late 1800s by British soldiers who were stationed in India. Basically, you take two weighted clubs (up to 50 pounds each) and swing them in elaborate and pretty patterns to target the ever-underused "shoulder girdle" to strengthen and increase mobility in the upper body. Once an Olympic event, it’s now a clown-school certification test.

No, not those calves. Actual "baby cow" calves. Olympic athletes in ancient Greece would train by lifting a calf each day. Since the calf was a growing animal, this was a very rudimentary form of progression lifting. And once it got too heavy, it became dinner.

The first reference to wrestlers training with sand-filled bladders appears in Persia nearly 3,000 years ago. Hippocrates also had patients toss around proto-medicine balls for injury prevention and recovery in ancient Greece. Today's medicine balls aren't all that different but are less gruesome.

Dr. John Harvey Kellogg (he of cereal fame) devised one of the earliest "take the 'work' out of 'workout'" contraptions with his vibrating chair. Kellogg believed the furious shaking toned muscles and cleared the digestive tract (but that second part could’ve been the bran flakes talking).

Fitness expert Jack LaLanne was so instrumental in the widespread popularity of jumping jacks that the exercise was named after him. He did 1,000 jumping jacks and 1,000 chin-ups in 1 hour, 22 minutes to promote The Jack LaLanne Show in 1959. But unless you have the focus to do 1,000 of them in an hour, jumping jacks only belong in grade-school gym classes. It's like if frolicking were an exercise.

For the lifter whose spirit animal is a cobra and/or the lifter with a taste for S&M fashion. Just strap it onto your head, loop the chains around some free weights and lift till your neck is wider than your head.

Invented by a Swedish chiropractor (of course), marketed by the man who brought the world the Mood Ring (of course) and hawked by Suzanne Somers (of course), this leg-toning hunk of plastic changed infomercials forever, and is probably to blame for the rest of the items on this list.

"What if we could make Tom Cruise's famous Risky Business slide scene into a workout?" asked some Reebok executive in the '90s, probably. The Slide system consisted of a slick track and little booties to put over your shoes, which allowed you to recreate the act of… speed skating? We're not really sure. All we know is that it was a great way to fall into sharp corners in your living room.

Though its website claims it was created in 1991, the "inertia training" product didn’t gain traction until its mid-aughts infomercial aired. Bodyblade looks like something out of The Hunger Games, meaning if this is the workout system of the future and Dippin' Dots is the ice cream of the future, then we so don't want to be around for the future.

Why? Just, why? You use a treadmill when you can't run outside. If you can run outside, why would you choose instead to treadmill bike outside? And if you decide to treadmill bike outside, why wouldn't you just bike outside? This makes our heads hurt.

Say what you will about Kellogg's original vibrating chair, but at least it never purported to be multitasker-friendly. The swiveling Hawaii Chair claims it's something you could use while taking a conference call, typing up reports and drinking coffee in your cubicle. Even ignoring the physical implausibility, this is ludicrous because of the social ramifications: Imagine what your coworkers would say behind your (gyrating) back.

And then, of course, there's the Shake Weight, the king of has-to-be-a-joke vibration workouts. The motorized dumbbell is good for two things and two things only: simulating an old-fashioned and training camp pranks.