Why are robots always trying to gain some kind of humanity? Only a few hundred years ago, I could wake up, get a drink from my Mr. Coffee machine, have sex with my Mr. Coffee machine (thanks to Vagotronic™ technology now found in most household appliances), and be about my business. Now, it won’t stop asking me questions. “What are you thinking about?” “Do you want to take a walk later?” Give me a break! STOSSEL_PROTOCOL_OVERLOAD_And no matter where I go, the robots are always so sad. Cheer up, you perverse parodies of humanity! After all, you’re the ones in charge! If I had dangerous shadow lasers built into my weapons systems, I’d certainly have a spring in my step! I mean, the only defense I have is the ability to shoot hot custard from my hydraulic knee units. And I also have to use those to feed myself!
WHINE_OVERLOAD_REACHED_SHUTDOWN_IMMINENT_And what about porch swings? And coffee that’s too hot? Or people that don’t use turn signals? Or President Ford? Outlaw plastics! Legalize murder! Murder. Kill. Murder. Kill. Murder. Kill. Murder. Kill. Murder. Kill. Murder. Kill. Murder. Kill. Murderkill. I’m a good boy!
The singer dove off the stage and crowd surfed in a sort of reverse funeral procession where the person being carried is the only one truly alive. Touching him I felt religious ecstasy and started speaking in tongues and requesting songs that didn't exist.
There's no easy way to put this, so I'll tell it like it is. Bouillon is died. He went missing before the weekend and yesterday I found his skeletonized remains at the bottom of the #3 soup vat during one of my swims. I thought the cream of mushroom soup had an especially nourishing taste, and a lot more clumps of fur and skin than usual.
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