Hydrogen: That guy's down-home country doctor-scientist police chief mannerism is deeply calming to me, much like the sedative they use for lethal injections.
Trillaphon: "Well I'll tell you what pardner, here I was a-monologuin' this and a-soliloquizin' that, right clear 'til that there machine apocalypse done came on."
Hydrogen: "Now see here, miss, I'm going to have to go ahead and take a little pinch of exception with your use of the word "murder" to describe the actions of an artificial life form, from an ontological standpoint, that is."
Trillaphon: Barrett Coldyron: brilliant but mumbly loose cannon science-cop and bumpkin philosopher.
Trillaphon: This seems like a good point to mention that he's in charge of the R.O.T.O.R. program, which involves creating a psychotic cyborg Judge Dredd knockoff with a thick, luscious porn mustache to wander around murdering speeders, reaching for things dramatically, and barking in people's faces.
Hydrogen: The astute viewer may have noticed that they already have one robot on the police force, but it's only programmed to hit on the secretaries and perform bizarre, Twin Peaks-esque dance numbers with the janitor, so it's not likely to put much of a dent in the local criminal underworld.
Trillaphon: It's also pretty good at wearing hats and grumbling to itself about its job like a Flintstones Crappersaurus.
TOTAL WRECK - crazy-eyed hound is covered in cobwebs, has a vespiary on back, graffiti on side and savage thirst for boat fuel. Frankly, I'm in over my head. He's in room 115 at Motel 6, yours free. 555-2851
Yes, it's the perfect form for surviving a car crash. But it's also the perfect form for so much more, like surviving the trauma of reading any news headline in 2016.
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