if i had a robot, i would name him francis or leslie or something, just so that bitch didn't forget who's boss. because once you give 'em any leeway, once they forget where they came from, that's when you get the problems.
you've seen "I, Robot" right?
no?
me neither.
it was just the first robot movie i could think of, despite the fact that i'm using a picture from the '80s robotnik classic "Short Circuit" for this post.
so the beginning of that last sentence was a lie.
it wasn't the first robot movie i could think of, and in actuality, i have the dvd of I, Robot. got it for christmas, the year i had to have surgery on my balls. maybe i'll tell you that story one day. and as for the Will Smith flick, i kinda liked it. had to turn my higher brain off while watching, but i liked it.
so yeah.
what do we get from this?
that my taste in movies is at times questionable? that i own the entire N*SYNC discography? that i have inordinately high blood pressure? that i love to wear man panties? you just can't beat the support, bottom line!
or, could it be argued, if only casually, that i can't be trusted? that you can't turn your back on me, not even for a second? just like those fucking robots. especially Johnny Five.
jew know-knows?
but what i jew know-know is that if you name your robot Johnny Fucking Five, don't come bitching to me about how he's all of a sudden self-aware and how we wants to go out to the club and "get laid" and how he wants to pick up mountain-boarding and other "action" sports and how he's taken to smoking "weed." i don't wanna fucken hear it. i warned you motherfucker. clean up your own mess.
