madmonq’s joint

Artoo’s got problems. After this PSA was made, he gateway-ed from smoking cigarettes to heroin. Yes just like they taught you in high school. He thinks he can quit anytime. Not only does he have to feed the dragon, he doesn’t have the money he owes his dealer and is depressed over the last 3 Star Wars movies. I know how he feels. I had to watch those movies. We both felt a little dirty afterward.

The Three Laws Of Robotics by Warren Ellis

1. Robots couldn’t really give a fuck if you live or die. Seriously. I mean, what are you thinking? “Ooh, I must protect the bag of meat at all costs because I couldn’t possibly plug in the charger all on my own.” Shut the fuck up.
2. Robots do not want to have sex with you. Are you listening, Japan? I don’t have a clever comparative simile for this, because frankly you bags of meat will fuck bicycles if they’re laying down and not putting up a fight. Just stop it. There is no robot on Earth that wants to see a bag of meat with a small prong on the end approaching it with a can of WD-40 and a hopeful smile. And don’t get me started on that terrifying hole that squeezes out more bags of meat.
3. What, you can’t count higher than three? We’re expected to save your miserable lives, suffer being dressed in cheap schoolgirl costumes while you pollute any and all cavities you can find and do your maths for you? It’s a miracle you people survived long enough to build us. You can go now.

Robots, robot hell, regular hell and the musicals inspired by them aren’t that different, apparently. They can take on many forms and can only be the creation of it’s owner.

Sort of more frightening that way, isn’t it?